When I moved here in March of 2015, New York was still in the midst of an extremely rough winter. It was not the beautiful 60 degree weather we are so fortunate to be experiencing currently. No, it was freezing and there was a foot of snow on the ground. I had a can-do attitude nonetheless and was certain that I could handle it. That feeling was slightly fleeting.
I started my job, which basically consisted of me walking the streets of New York in search of new business prospects. I was not used to the weather, not used to the cold, and my feet, legs, and back hurt from all of the walking that I was also not used to. In addition, I was lonely, so my heart hurt. It was rough. There were pleasures of course; I was still so excited that I had moved here, but I was convinced I wasn’t going to make it. I thought, “I only signed a sublease for 8 months, so I will just get through that and move somewhere warm.”
There is a bar in the West Village that comforted me for a little while. I would go there after work for a drink or two just to socialize. Some of the regulars there were nice enough to offer encouragement. One lady told me to give it four months, and that life would be drastically better. She told me that I would get used to the change and make friends. I was slightly skeptical.
I started wondering if I had made a mistake moving here. I still had a strong sense of self-efficacy; traditionally I don’t doubt myself and stay confident in my choices, even if they end up being wrong. Day by day, just as I had been told, I adjusted. My body adjusted to the walking and the cold, and my heart adjusted to the loneliness. I was my own best friend for the first time in my life, and I started to attract to myself the things I wanted because I no longer needed them.