the new 'hood, via iphone
I've long believed that the best measure of patience is how long you're willing to hold out for the right thing- be it a job, a living space, a relationship, etc.
By that measure, I am a very, very patient person. I waited a long time to land a great first job. I waited a long time find the right house for my senior year of college. And I'm still waiting for the right significant other.
And yet, I find myself feeling particularly impatient with my adjustment to this new life of mine. The transition from old to new was swift and dramatic: one day I was unemployed and living at home in the woods with my parents and by the next week, I was working a 9-5 job in Manhattan and living in a walk-up apartment with 3 random roommates. I got the package deal: 3 major life changes, 1 low price (actually, one very high price- moving is expensive). A new job, new city, and a new living situation.
Almost every day that I've been here in New York, I've felt as if I am living out someone else's life. I've been wearing someone else's shoes while my own life just sits off to the side, waiting for me to return and resume it. But this life that feels so foreign is my life now. I just need to let myself adjust and grow into it, and that will take time. Perhaps a lot of time.
On the day before I left home for college in 2007, an older relative of mine gave my apprehensive self a wise piece of advice. She told me not to think of life in terms of losses and gains, but as an ever-expanding basket of experiences that you're constantly adding to. Everything that you've ever done is right there in your arms, she said. You lose nothing. This wasn't exactly a revolutionary thought, but it was just the shift in perspective that I needed in that moment. I've carried her words with me ever since.
Today, I took a walk in the park with a friend (and new neighbor) before work. We bought ridiculous chocolate brioche from a nearby bakery and meandered beneath the autumn-hued trees while eating our breakfast. Sun filtered through the leaves and cut through the fog that shrouded the riverbank below us. I was far too involved with my pastry and the conversation to pause and take a photo, but the image is in my head. Another item to add to my basket.