Get up. Get up. Get out.
I was staring at the window for hours. Not out, at. The sun was streaming through far too brightly to actually see anything outside the window (a rare occurrence in a New York City apartment as it is usually either too close to the building next door for any light to make its way through, or you’ve taped the curtains shut to keep your curious neighbor from watching you shamefully eat Spaghetti-O’s). This was about the third day of my having complete arresting anxiety. I was unable to leave my apartment, let alone my couch, because my head and heart were spinning so fast they made the tilt-a-whirl look like a kiddie ride.
I had graduated college about a month ago and moved to a completely new neighborhood, miles away from my friends, most of whom had either gotten jobs or partners and were able to escape the existential crisis of life and the future thereof. I call them The Lucky Ones.
I had never experienced anxiety before, or at least not like this. Perhaps when I describe this phase as “arresting,” I’m being pleasant. More accurate descriptors would be catatonic or comatose. I began to repeat negative mantras to myself. Mostly about needing to get on with my life in a completely new career (despite having just spend thousands of dollars on a diploma), hell, even getting on in a completely new city. I repeated these mantras to myself so many times I had convinced myself I hated New York and it hated me. I had decided I was going to leave after a year, tops. So what was the point of getting off the couch? I would just let the rent run out…
After day two, I found myself changing the mantra. “Just get up. Just get off the couch. Get out.” By day three, that was all that was in my head. I was obsessively repeating, “Get up. Get up. Get out. But where?”
Where would I go? What was worth my time? What could possibly be better than the seventh season of a twenty-year-old sitcom, stale cheese balls, and a couch that had perfectly contoured to my body shape? “That new smoothie place opened up across the street… Let’s just try it. Just move. Just one block. You can do it.” And so I did.
The smoothie was incredible. Few things beat the first taste of Vitamin C after living off of chemically engineered foods for a week. I needed more. So, I began to walk. I didn’t care where I was going, or how far away I wandered. I just went. And that walk changed my life.
I remember zig-zagging up and down avenues, walking across every numbered street, counting them one by one. 14…15…16… Every time the light changed, so did my direction. I discovered places I had never seen, mere blocks away from my apartment: a taxidermy shop that held classes on weekends, a French bakery hidden around the corner in an alley, a speakeasy in the basement of an apartment building, the cutest chandelier art gallery, and an authentic Cajun supermarket that was the only place you could legally buy alligator meat in the city. (Something I had weirdly been craving since I went to New Orleans the year before.)
Every small place I wandered into made me smile. It was something new. Something exciting. Something so extremely unique to this city. Each and every place made me fall in love with New York all over again. How could I have ever thought I wanted to leave this city? How could I have ever thought I was done with this town, when there was so much more to explore?
That was about five years ago now. And, I’m still living in New York. Every now and then, I get down or my anxiety flares up and I feel that negative mantra come back to me. So, I take a walk. I discover places I never explored before. Tiny shops. Local dives. Pop up galleries. And I always feel better. My anxiety dissipates and I fall back in love with New York.
When I contribute to Google Maps, I always try to hi-light places that reignite that feeling of love for my city. Whether that’s by creating a list of of the best food, art, or music venues, or giving a five star rating boost to a less attended, underrated spot, or giving a helpful review on what makes the thirty-first Caribbean restaurant in Crown Heights uniquely special. My hope is that my contributions help someone, visiting or local, fall in love with this city the way I am able to every day. These places change my life and cure me from spiraling into nothingness. I want them to do the same for others out there struggling.
Go for a walk.
Get up. Get up. Get out.