I am moving to Brooklyn, NY in 21 days. And while the thrill of it is enough to make me want to jump up and down like a 5-year-old who is happily awaiting her biggest birthday gift – it also makes me want to throw up…
Because I am horrified. I have lived in Miami for 7 years and have made some of the best friends in the world here. And I don’t mean the kind of friends who will meet me for coffee and chat my ear off about their problems; I mean the kind of friends who will sit with me for 12-hours in the ER while I get my broken toe set. Or the kind of friends that will scoop me up off my bathroom floor when we’ve had too much fun that night. The kind of people who will be there in a minute if I need them. The kind of bffs who love and support me and want more than anything for me to see me succeed.
Leaving these wonderful people who know me upside down and sideways is terrifying. So is figuring out the subway system in New York City.
On my most horrified days I sit here wondering: “Why am I going to leave the sunny warm weather of South Florida for the chilly, grey skies of the North East?” ”What the F was I thinking?!” The thing about leaving Miami is that for the first time in my life I’m moving totally for myself. This was a decision I made, I had total control over it, and suddenly moving day is around the corner of the calendar and I have no one to blame for this paralyzing fear but myself.
But here’s the thing about fear: You don’t get anywhere without it. You don’t learn, you don’t evolve, you don’t grow or change unless you make yourself uncomfortable. It would be easy for me to stay in Miami, just like it would be easy for me to practice headstands all day. I get headstands, I can float into them no problem, they’re easy and safe. I do them on rooftops.
New York City is my handstand. I’m scared of it. It’s a challenge. There’s failure waiting for me around every skyscraper and every strange face. And while I’m currently experiencing the calm before the moving boxes and logistics of change, I still know that all the hard things that come with picking up your life and moving it hundreds of miles are waiting for me up the East Coast in one of the most expensive and intimidating cities on earth – not in the U.S., in the world. And guess what – that’s a good thing.
Still, I’ve had to devise ways to assure myself that I’m going to be just fine. There’s a couple of things I tell myself daily to ease the fearful feeling in my stomach that is worsening by the hour.
- I’m never in it alone. I have family and friends all over the world who have my back.
- I’m doing it for all the right reasons. To better my career, to improve my future, to challenge myself.
- I’m being smart about it (for the most part). I have jobs lined up, I’m living with my sister, I gave myself plenty of time to prepare.
- But mostly, I remind myself that I’m scared shitless; because as uncomfortable as that may be, as worrisome and restless as this mind numbing concern over every single changing detail in my life has become I have to wonder: who the hell would want to spend their entire life doing the same thing forever?
New stuff is scary, but that can never (and will never) be the reason I refuse to do it. When I was a teenager I decided New York was the city for me… I guess now I just have to see if I was right the only way I can. By packing up my yoga mat, luon pants and novel outlines and setting up shop in Park Slope.
Remember: If you’re not living life on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.
Stay scared, yogis!