**PLEASE NOTE** THIS POST CONTAINS ADULT LANGUAGE AND MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR YOUNG READERS. 

So, at midnight a pretty cool thing happens: I’ll “officially” become a New Yorker. That’s what everyone around here says, anyway, that someone must live in NYC for 5 years before they can say they are a NYer.

Tomorrow, April 5, is my five year anniversary since I arrived in NYC. 

For back story that I don’t need to repeat, check out my essay in DEAR TEEN ME if none of what I’m saying makes any sense to you. 😀

*DTM was given a very cool award such as the one above

This year, for various reasons, makes me more emotional than years past. On April 5, I will be celebrating my freedom alone. Alone in a city of 8.4 million people. So many people that you either feel swallowed by them, drowned out, or like you’re the only person who has a 212 or 646 or 718 or 631 or the zillion other area codes. I find myself among the latter.

I am human–my life both past and present isn’t bubble-gum, rainbows, unicorns, glitter, pink, and kittens all of the time. I’m battling depression and anxiety and struggle with inner demons just like anyone else.

My response that I say aloud when I get paralyzed from panic or sunk under water from depression is that I HAVE to pull myself out. I borrow words from Eminem of all people. I say,

I say these words over and over until I believe them. Because really, if I I don’t, why should anyone else? Like my agent, publishing houses, editors, readers, friends?

A very sensitive and kind of untouchable thing happened last fall. That’s what makes part of April 5th very raw and hard to swallow.

Moving on . . .

I am so, so (how many times can I write “so”?) grateful to every single person who has touched my life in a tiny or big way since 2009. Everyone from the guys from Fresh Direct who bring me groceries, to my neighbor Frank that I can call at 4am if I don’t feel well, to my amazing, beyond words awesome best friend, Bri. B, you could have chosen Path A. But you chose me and Path B. Thank you for waking me up in the morning, Skype writing with me so I don’t feel alone, and being there 24/7. I’m sorry that I’ve beaten you so many times at Words with Friends. I’ll try to ease up a little. 😀

Freedom can come in so many different ways. For me, like I said in my essay, I was sort of like Cady Heron from MEAN GIRLS plunked into a Brooklyn apartment with two cats and two writers. (Bailey and Pacey RIP <3)

Bailey and Pacey passed on to give us the chance to adopt two new babies. Enter Niro and TortiBelle.

After settling Niro and Torti, it was time for me to build my family. I went to a shelter’s foster mom’s house at first only to see Bliss. But Bella had just arrived minutes prior to my arrival. She was super spunky and then was an immediate lap cat. So well developed for a kitten. She stole my heart and I went home with two babies in December 2012.   

Look how tiny!! Precious!

         And Bliss couldn’t even walk! She had been hit by something and fractured her pelvis. The vet wanted to amputate her hind leg and tail because the dragged behind Bliss as she crawled. Instead, I rehabbed B and she walks like a normal kitty and her tail is only a little kinky. 🙂

I’m sad because the family I thought I would have for life has evaporated. I’m thankful that I have Bella, Bliss, and Khaleesi. (Found in streets April 2013) I couldn’t be luckier to have my West Coast family. They are everything to me!

I know it’s SOOO cliche, but the old “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere” quote truly seems accurate.

I want answers that I may never get. I have to work every day on letting go bit by bit of the past and live in the present. I don’t want to waste my 27th year by being stuck. I have too many projects to conquer. Too many works that I want to share with all of you.

I am ready.

Bring it. I am a New Yorker, after all.