NYC Kicked My Ass - by Lauren Scarlett
Field Trip is a homebase for the research and references that inform the work and life of designer Lauren Scarlett.
[RESEARCH ©FT]
Sometimes it’s sitting comfortably on a plane, in awe of the world and what you’re about to do. Sometimes it’s eating good food, going to bars and wandering the streets of a city you can’t believe you’re in. Sometimes it’s getting overwhelmed in stores that don’t stock brands you know. Sometimes it’s being close to tears in your hotel, wishing the people you love were awake. Sometimes it’s all too much and at the same time, not nearly enough.
I’ve tried to write about this trip many times. There are some embarrassingly emotional drafts, some nsfw notes and a list of things I found funny about America. I’ve written about this a bunch of different ways because the way I feel about it seems to change by the hour. It was one of the most intense weeks of my life but it did exactly what I needed it to do.
After a year of feeling pushed about, going to New York felt like pushing back. It felt like demanding more from life, and from myself. I was going to wait to write about it, but I know I’ll board the plane home and my romantic, reminiscent self will kick in. I’ll only think about the highlights and how alive I felt in the good moments. I’ll think about great conversation in Roberta’s Pizza, two strangers lucky enough to find friendship across the world. I’ll think about the buildings and the galleries I got lost in. I’ll think about calling my mum from Central Park, the sun shining on me as she tells me about the rain back in England.
But as I sit in the airport and write this, I can still feel it all. I can still feel the heaviness I felt half way through it. If this trip has taught me anything it’s that I can’t pretend. While it was one of the most rewarding weeks of my life it was equally one of the hardest. On Wednesday morning I woke up and wrote this:
I thought it would clear my senses. I thought it would reset me; inspire me beyond belief. Instead I’ve never been more in my head. I can confirm that feelings of doubt, missing out and insecurity translate perfectly over seas. I can’t help but think that everywhere is better than wherever I am because I’m not there. After pretending to be fine for days I let myself cry tonight. Engulfed in confusion, already feeling pathetic, it felt like a good time to wallow in self pity. I’m in the most opportunistic city in the world with no plans, I know I’m doing it wrong. The time difference doesn’t change how hard these early hour thoughts hurt. I hope to god I sleep it off.
Every fibre of my being was letting me know I was alone and I didn’t want to be. I was ashamed I wasn’t having the time of my life, disappointed I was finding it more difficult than I thought I would. But I’m glad I found it hard. I’m glad it made me realise my relentless need to be independent won’t always protect me the way I think it will. Stubborn to a fault but humbled by a newfound need for company, I let myself wish I had more people around; more people who also want to squeeze the life out of life.
I came to New York to find out. I arrived with a lot of questions and feel like I’m leaving with the answers I needed. I know now that I’m capable of everything. I know that I deserve more than what I’ve let myself settle for. I’m going home proud, excited to pour everything I have into getting all that I want. I know now if I can catch my first long-haul flight to go to a foreign city alone, I can do anything.
And despite all the turbulent emotions I’d do it again instantly. I’d let it all hurt so I could sit in the back of a car watching the sun set over Manhattan after having a great day. I’d feel it all again so I could stroll around Brooklyn at night and be proud of the band. I’m returning to England ready to lean into my life and stop living in my head. New York City kicked my ass, wore me down, woke me up and reminded me who the fuck I am. I’ve never felt more ready for whatever’s coming next.
[REFERENCES ©FT]
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