When everything is about to change

Reflections from that in-between space when everything is still the same but soon nothing will be.

shagey_

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It’s an awfully human experience to be in that liminal space where you know everything is about to change, but nothing is really happening yet — on the brink of a major upheaval, yet everything, for now is still, shockingly, the same..?

A few months ago, I decided I wanted to move back to New York City. Babies have a way of changing everything (not mine!!), and my one-year-old niece Antonia (we call her Toni) is currently a magnet bringing my family back together from our far-out corners of the country. My brother and sister-in-law live in Brooklyn, and I’ve been visiting a bit more often ever since she was born. I don’t want to miss everything, and I want to be a part of her life, so that’s a big factor. But I’m also just feeling ready to go back home.

Home, though, can be a complicated word. For me, relocating so many times growing up, I never had that quintessential “childhood home,” with the magazines taped to the walls and the relics of school years past. Moving every couple of years, we were forced to purge often and start anew, which I think all turned out fine in the end. It just meant I didn’t have the same house I grew up in to return to, but rather a few different houses in different places that acted as vessels for my upbringing at different phases of my life. I grew up in both Florida and Georgia, but neither house in neither place is still ours, so those don’t quite call me home like New York does.

A corner of my East Village apartment in… 2018?

I’ve never lived anywhere longer than I lived in NYC, so New York, to me, is home. I hit 9 years there before Covid led me to Los Angeles — dating someone here in LA at the time, and knowing whatever was happening didn’t seem to be ending soon, I pulled the plug and had all my stuff sent here without ever giving New York a proper goodbye. And for most of the last almost-5 years, I’ll admit, I haven’t really missed NYC. I enjoyed a change of scenery, a slower pace, and a more laid-back lifestyle that included things like surfing and hiking. I wasn’t always planning to go back to New York, but I also never counted it out.

Then the fires happened. A few weeks ago, anyone with a place to call home in LA became one of the lucky ones. When so many lost so much, it really put things into perspective. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to have a roof over my head, my things that smell like me and the ones I love, my wardrobe I’ve curated over so many years, my old photo strips and handwritten cards and stuffed animals from claw machines in Japan. It was made very clear not to take any of that for granted.

I had already made my mind up about moving back before my current home city went up in flames, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t feel like a pretty clear sign to follow that gut instinct. I’ve loved my time here, and have come to love so much about this city, but in all honesty I’m not sure it’s ever fully felt like home to me. I’m not even saying that in a aw-sad-that’s-a-bummer kind of way — I’m thankful for everything it’s brought me (love, heartbreak, immense personal evolution, to name a few). I guess I’m just ready to turn the page.

Apartment hunting in New York, though, has been nothing short of the nightmare everyone always warns it will be. I oscillate between being hopeful I can find a space there that speaks to me within my budget (I admittedly have a long list of needs to check — natural light, closet space, dog-friendly, character would be nice…), and feeling hopeless that I never will. I’ve been rejected from three places that I’ve applied to, but most say it might happen after the sixth or eighth. I don’t have wealthy parents, a partner in finance, or an uncle in real estate, so I’m literally just a self-employed girl doing her best.

Quiet moments at my LA apartment.

After getting back to LA last week defeated by a fruitless NYC apartment hunt, I couldn’t help but feel a future-nostalgia for the safe space I’ve created here, even if I’ve somewhat refused to ever fully call this city my home. As humans, there’s such a natural resistance to change. It’s so much easier and more comfortable when things stay the same. Am I forcing this?, I thought. Why mess with a good thing?

I looked around at the way I’ve painted every room a color I love, the way the golden LA light spills in through every window, the vintage green tiles in the bathroom, the plants… They’re so happy here! Am I an absolute fool to give any of this up? Sure, LA is in a rough patch right now, but it’s still one of the greatest cities on Earth. Though surely, I can also create another beautiful home in the other greatest city I already know and love so much.

Basically, I don’t know what this next NYC chapter will look like for me. I keep convincing myself I’m not going backwards, even though it can feel like I am (definitely downsizing, going back to the place where I hustled through my 20s, probably saying goodbye to my dishwasher, etc). I’m fully trying to keep moving toward what I want, while also staying present and grateful and trusting the process. My mom told me life is way more peaceful and enjoyable when we’re not trying to control everything.

So I don’t know in which borough we’ll end up, or when (luckily, I’m not on a strict timeline, so it could be in a month, or six). There’s more I don’t know right now than I do.

All I know is that everything is about to change. And what a bizarre, beautiful, conflicting, confusing, unsettling, exciting place that is to be.