It’s 2021. It’s my first week at a new job. And I look like a discount pirate with my eye patch I am wearing thanks to a stye from crying too much. What a great first week.
Let’s zoom out a bit. I never dreamt of living in New York. It wasn't on my vision board. I didn't have the Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. New York pursued me. My first date with New York was in 2010. I was living in China when I met an American boy. It felt like love at first sight. Our first kiss? Pure magic in the middle of a rainstorm. Six months later, I was packing my bags for the Big Apple, stars in my eyes, ready for happily ever after. Spoiler alert: there was another rainstorm, but this time it was the tears I was sobbing, nursing a broken heart. I dumped New York faster than you can say "tourist at Times Square."
Five blissful years passed, I now lived in California – my actual dream location – when the universe decided to play matchmaker again. Another New York boy. Because apparently, my dating pool needed to be restricted to a five-borough radius 3,000 miles away from where I lived. Since we all love long-distance relationships and scheduling your romantic nights on a Google Calendar, eventually, I caved. I moved back to New York. For a man. Again.
Fast forward back to that week with my stye. That same man, years later, would make me cry so much during our breakup that I developed a stye in my eye during my first week at a new job. Great. I was ready to dumb New York. Again. But my friend Stefan dropped this wisdom bomb: "Caro, there are three things in life – who you're with, what you do, and where you live. You just changed your job, you were forced to change your partner. Don't also change where you live! Give it six months." I took that advice.
So I stayed... and became an obsessive runner instead. Every morning, no exceptions. Running became my therapy to forget – forget that I stayed too long in a relationship that I wasn’t valued in.
After two months though, I asked myself: what am I running for? What's my goal?
The answer: I would climb Kilimanjaro. Because 2021 would not be remembered as the year I got dumped, but as the year I conquered a mountain.
Of course, because the universe loves a good plot twist, my sister gave me tonsillitis right before the climb, and Mother Nature blessed me with my period halfway up the mountain. Nothing says "female empowerment" like changing a tampon in a frozen tent at 15,000 feet.
Those six days were pure pain – but somewhere between the altitude sickness and the existential crisis, I forgave myself. I forgave myself for staying with someone who didn't see me, for staying too long. I grew from heartbreak in ways I never would have in couples therapy.
But self-love isn't what kept me in New York. Every six months like clockwork, my friends had to hear about my latest escape plan. "I'm moving to Portugal!" "Spain is calling my name!" "LA is where I belong!"
Cut to 2023: me buying an apartment in New York on a casual walk home from the subway. As one does.
Why did I stay? It wasn't the fancy restaurants or Broadway shows. It was the incredible women I befriended after my breakup. While I was rejecting New York, these badass women refused to reject me.
Their strength became my strength. On days when I wanted to hide under my blanket fortress of despair, I'd remember: Astrid is crushing a presentation today. Erin is closing a deal. Lea is standing up to that mansplaining colleague.
These women don't hide when life gets tough. They put on their metaphorical armor (and literal power suits), march into battle every day, and then take themselves out for the fun they deserve.
Breakups are hard when you’re in them. But honestly, I got over every guy, every relationship, every situationship. Men come and go. But these female friendships - they sustain me - on the good and the bad days. When we're old and our lovers are long gone, I know these women will be there, espresso martinis in hand.
New York and I? We're complicated - the best love stories always are. But, for real this time, I am taking a break from you. Thank you for what you’ve given me. You gave me the power of loving myself. And showed me the power of female friendships and belonging. You’ll stay in my memory.