Not so long ago I found my name plastered on the front page of the New York Times. Described as “tired, but eager,” I never truly lived that tag down. Granted, the reasons I am now tired and eager are much different than they were in the year 2000-something when it was first used. Amy Harmon, a well-respected journalist wrote about my days as a drug user and abuser. She played up my usage of street drugs and downplayed my actual accomplishments in life. Instead she thought it better to focus on the negatives: overworked, in debt, and kicked out of nursing school. This makes sense if you want to highlight the negative effects of drugs, and certainly those of drug abuse. The thing is, she didn’t paint a queer clear picture of me. And while I have moved past the intial hostility I have had towards Ms. Harmon for, in a sense, throwing me under the bus, I feel it necessary to clear a few things up.
This first entry for my new blog is not for anyone, but myself. This idea leads people in my head to ask
- Q: What is the purpose for putting these thoughts on such a public forum?
- A: Because I am tired of answering the question:
Q: What are you going to do when you grow up?”
Spoiler alert: I am grown up. This is actually what life looks like.
Granted, I will be the first to admit that my life trajectory has not resembled linear or coherent, especially for those whom have known me the longest.
- I am a free bird.
- I go where the wind takes me.
- I try new things.
- I change careers.
- I let people break my heart.
It took time to develop the openness and the willingness to allow change to play out. I still struggle on the daily with being open to new experiences– I struggle with not correcting improper grammar usage, especially via text– I cringe and wish I could accept the wrong other methods of doing things– I play out the worst case scenario in my head far too often– I create chaos where chaos doesn’t exist. Some have called me insane; others have called me a dry drunk; and others manic and irrational. To those people, I say– you’re probably not completely wrong. In order to adapt, a certain amount of detachment from reality must be negotiated. If not, we would not only be insane, but we would be consumed by insanity. There’s a fine line between committable and neurotic. For a brief moment, I toyed with the former idea– it did one great thing for me. It gave me perspective. My time at the looney bin therapeutic retreat was a moment in time when I remember feeling completely at ease with the person I had become: an obsessive, compulsive, self-destructive, self-loathing, delusional, a sad person. There was nothing left to do, other than change.
We have a tendency to get so caught up in other people’s lives and behaviors that we forget to look at ourselves– life doesn’t have to make sense to anyone, except to the one living it. I have a super fun habit of overthinking, hyper-analyzing, and obsessing over the details, all of which have more than proven to be alienating attributes and not helpful in the development of friendships and relationships, both of the personal and professional variety.
So what am I saying? Right? Seriously. Get it together, Nay. Today is the day I start choosing my choice.
I CHOOSE MY CHOICE!
Nayrotica is not just a place to dump my deepest thoughts– that’s boring. Look here for snippets of city life, tales of Nayventures as only Nay can tell them, and watch as New York City is transformed into Nay York City!