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The other day, I posted this as my Facebook status:
“My dream life pretty much consists of me sipping margies, reading my horoscope, and petting a dog in my backyard, while wearing a trashy orange bathing suit and listening to the sweet sounds of my wind chime collection jangling in the gentle breeze. Sadly, I don’t think that NYC can support my slutty grandma lifestyle aspirations.”
I was having a New York downer moment. I get a lot of those. They’re usually brought on by the constant crowds, the dirt, the overpriced everything, or, most commonly, the East Coast change-of-seasons (I’m a California girl, and any forecast that’s not “sunny with a chance of more sunny” seriously bums me out). The thing is, up until I moved to NYC two and a half years ago, this place was My Dream City. I wanted nothing more than to be here. The energy of the constant crowds! The edgy grit of the dirty streets! The bohemian hipness of living in an expensive loft with five roommates! And, OMG, the East Coast change-of-seasons! New York City is the center of everything, and, classic overachiever that I am, I just had to be the center of that center.
But, like most things that we romanticize the shit out of, NYC hasn’t exactly lived up to the skyscraper-high pedestal that I placed it on. I could tell you stories upon stories about why (example 1: I got punched in the face on the subway for saying that I didn’t like Science Fiction), but I digress. The point is, we all deal with disappointment at some point in our lives. Like me, sometimes we make a big move– changing schools, going away to college, studying abroad, or just ‘cause– and we get so excited and build up the experience in our minds so much, only to find that the transition is not as seamless as we hoped it would be. Sometimes we break up with the person we sincerely thought we would be with for the rest of our lives. Sometimes our parents break up, or do things that hurt us and show us that they are not the flawless superhumans that we thought they were. Sometimes the disappointment is smaller– like, we order a beyond adorable, stretchy, daisy print dress off Etsy hoping to channel 90s Drew Barrymore, and we realize that super-clingy spandex floral prints are indeed not everyone’s best friend.
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We’re crushed. We want to cry. We feel trapped, and restricted by the skin-tight lycra fabric that we just squeezed ourselves into. What the hell do we do? We have to learn to deal with the disappointment, that’s what.
Photo credits: Etsy
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
