Tell Momma I Made It…Kinda

Thanks for joining me! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

Reporting live from New York, it’s me with crippling anxiety and no idea how the hell to adult or use the damn subway…

I had a previous blog (, but I figured if I were to be an adult or at the very least attempt to be an adult, I should upgrade to WordPress like the rest of functioning society.

Just a disclaimer, this is just a way for me to organize my thoughts and maybe one day have validation from one reader that I’m not alone. But for now I know it’s mayyybeee just my mom reading (hi).

You know in those movies where the main character does something really messed up and the frame freezes and it’s like “you’re probably wondering how I got in this position…” that’s me every single morning. Standing, half asleep on a very crowded A train, heading to Midtown only after realizing I left my rheumatoid arthritis medication on the counter, and only half consumed my coffee due to participating in the I wonder how long I can sleep before being late game.

Cut to Journey singing Just a small town girl…who moved 200miles from comfort, family, and friends to explore some energy much bigger than her ego (and trust me, that’s a fucking feat). I went from knowing the rules of the game, how to play them to get where I want, who to talk to, and where to go to this weird sensory issue and crippling social anxiety that makes zero fucking sense if you knew me pre-risky decision. Ya girl moved from New England to Long Island, thought it was a snooze, to the queen city herself – New York motherfucking City.

Don’t get me wrong, this city is everything you want it to be. Brave, vibrant, owning it’s shit no matter what happens – but something in me…snapped? I guess?

Pre-risky decision (aka moving here), I was partying and would come home to my 800sqft apartment to many friends just hanging out and vibing. To late nights full of board games, jam sessions, and the booze infused life chats after an adventurous bar crawl.

Now, I’ve developed this social anxiety where: Yes, I want to go out. Yes, I want to do things and be reckless and young and crazy and make terrible poor decisions.BUT, my entire body just screams NOOOOO WE NEED TO GO HOME OR ELSE BAD THINGS. So I go through this routine of work, home, shower, dinner, bed, repeat and sulk in this overwhelming sense of FOMO (mom, that means fear of missing out). I’m sorry, but do you realize how absolutely sad that is? I just turned 24 and rather than drink at a bar having a good time, I’m drinking on my couch next to my cat.

I’m not 100% sure where it stemmed from, to be honest. I did read an article that the phycological effects of giving up a car is similar to the feeling of losing control and that Type A personalities tend to engage in a depression like state when this occurs. Wow, like the WebMD of articles, amirite? I’m sure if I read the whole thing it would have stated that most side effects can be weight gain due to influx in ice cream consumption (true) and death (only on the inside so far but…). Maybe it is a sense of losing control? I mean, I take a timed subway to work, work on a scheduled bases, take a timed lunch, then get back on a timed subway surrounded by crazies, and go home. There’s a routine, but not much control there. But, I also think it’s a sense of “I want to do xyz, but I’ve heard the horror stories and don’t want to die on my walk home” which, to be fair, is dramatic as fuck, however, no matter how many times people tell me to get over it (but, in kinder words) it’s still there.

I think I just need a girl gang again. One to check my ego, and not be afraid to stop at my building and be like “get in the car bitch, we’re going shopping” (that was a MeanGirls reference if you didn’t catch it).

But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was my sarcastic attitude so I guess I can’t expect this to be solved overnight…hopefully in the second month though.

Until next time,




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