Sometimes, a quick post is all we need. One to highlight the chaos around us all and how we can manage said chaos using the baby step advice we ask our therapist from time to time.
For the past six days, I left New York City (gasp). I left it for the mountainous region of Vermont, what I later found out to be a destination for the urban elites of both New York City and it’s cousin, Boston. What I later found out to be a lovely place filled with semi-decently priced ski passes, underpriced ski rentals, and gondolas that were quite spacious .
As a perennial average and 2x every 3 years skier, I marvel at the activity. The way putting on boots takes over an hour and immense pain & suffering for at least two of your toes. The way the views from your ascent on the chairlift take your breath away you forget about skiing itself. And of course, the way apres ski brings out your most masculine & bougie attributes all in one (by masculine, bringing in the snow-covered firewood from the porch & by bougie, of course I’m referring to the glass of merlot, Calvin Klein turtleneck, and Whole Foods Brie cheese & fig/raspberry crackers by the kitchen counter). Not to mention, the attention of a kind, wonderful romantic partner to warm up with & toast the day’s successes i.e. not having a major fall or mental breakdown before I dove down the Blackbear black diamond slope earlier that day.
Leaving the city, New York City, was long overdue. Without the parental suburban retreat (my parental retreat is simply walking to the 1 subway line and zooming to the Upper West, a retreat, but far from suburban), I’ve been caved into my 500 sq ft Casper mattress encompassed Manhattan abode for over a year. I needed to breathe. I needed space. I needed to be around a real Sheepadoodle (Shoutout Norman) and become invigorated by the way he becomes one with nature, overspreading his joyous emotions (care-free to others). I even needed to be without my gold Silk eye mask & Amazon-ordered ear plugs to get a good night sleep (I forgot both, naturally). With Norman, Vermont, and this newfound girlfriend of mine, I was armed with the mechanisms needed to get away and comfortably, happily be away mentally & physically.
Sometimes, we have to shut up those unhelpful thoughts holding us back. Those unhelpful “I can’t leave the city because…” or “I can’t wear this Calvin Klein turtle neck two days in a row” have no place here. Breaking through my comfort zone — an understatement during a year dubbed “prison if you are an extroverted, energetic producer in the live show scene” was nothing short of remarkable. I feel relieved, energized, amazed that I was able to do laundry for free (without having to search under my bed for one of the three laundry cards I’ve lost), and most importantly, ready to do it again. Florida? I’ll wear a mask. LA? Get me ten masks. Idaho? Sure, I’ll sit in the lodge when someone else skies. I forgot how much I missed this Area 51 of my life — the growth outside of the high maintenance (or is it just particular) comfort Zone of Harrison Forman (slip Silk eye mask et al).