“The Most Exciting, challenging, and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone to love the you you love, well that’s just fabulous.”- Carrie Bradshaw

Two Days ago in NYC, dressed in a white dress with perfectly matching white Louboutin Iriza pumps, I had my “Carrie Bradshaw” moment. For those who are unfamiliar with the reference and didn’t grow up believing that living in New York City as a single woman is EXACTLY how Sex and the City portrays it, Carrie Bradshaw is the protagonist of said TV program. Much of her storyline is marked with the struggles of dating in the “Big Apple”, trying to find her own way despite frequently entangling herself with the wrong men, enjoying a good cosmopolitan and night out with her closest girlfriends in the city, and having a deep affinity for expensive designer shoes. And while that entire previous statement practically mirrors my own life, there are some significant differences between Carrie and I. Unfortunately, I do not own a brownstone on the Upper East Side nor have a career as a columnist/socialite that can somehow afford a wardrobe based entirely on $500 Manolo Blahnik pumps. Also, for the record… if I ever allowed myself to end up with a man like Mr. Big, someone please take me out of my misery because I will have officially lost my marbles. However, as a single female in her mid-20’s who has recently moved to downtown Chicago, I can find myself relating to Carrie and her cohorts. I’ve found that while the women on the show are vastly different, face different struggles, and embark down different life paths, without a doubt there are bits and pieces of myself in Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. Although the show originally premiered 20 years ago, much of the lessons and struggles regarding life and love still ring true in 2019. So true, in fact, that I shamelessly own all six seasons of the show and Season 1 is currently playing in the background as I write.

I’ve always been somewhat of a dreamer and a romantic. Often, I find myself envisioning my life and what it will entail, getting lost in the thrill of the “what if’s” and “what’s yet to come. Grandiose vacations around the world, nights spent staying up laughing with my girlfriends drinking wine, adventures with like-minded people who challenge me personally and spiritually, a wild and passionate love affair with an undeniably handsome man (If you’re reading this…. sorry mom and dad), exc. are the types of scenes that I picture when I look forward to the next 10+ years.  I have an idea of what my heart desires, what it should feel like, and the idea lives in my head; A life that I love that loves me back. It is larger than life, a highlight reel of excitement, opulence, and splendor, filled with so much promise. And while I realize that life is guaranteed to not be “perfect” nor what I will always expect, I know that as long as I am happy and follow my heart, I will always live a life well lived. The issue however, is that when some thing good happens to me or comes along, I immediately second guess myself and whether or not I actually deserve it. My anxiety ridden, Catholic guilted self immediately hits the panic button and bunkers down for inevitable disappointment. I find myself asking, “Well all is going splendid for now… but when will the rug get pulled out from out of me this time?!”. I begin to enter the negative feedback loop and start believing that whatever I had manifested into my life was only placed there to be taken away, to punish me for whatever I had unknowingly done wrong in some lifetime or another. That somehow the Universe is actually working against me, not in my favor, and that everything I dream of will never happen because I don’t deserve it. I should spare my happiness because if history repeats itself, it will be fleeting and I should protect myself from the inevitable disaster to come.

Just rereading that previous paragraph out loud was painful and further validates that I have so much to still work on. My paranoia is clearly getting the best of me and my own self sabotaging narrative will be my downfall, not some karmic plot set in motion by a higher power to rectify my “sins”. My higher self knows that this type of thinking is toxic and simply based on fear and feelings of inadequacy, yet here I am thinking these awful things. In fact, if one of my closest girlfriends ever dare to say those types of things in front of me, I would shake her silly and scream, “REPEAT AFTER ME: YOU DESERVE THE BEST BECAUSE YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND RESPECT AND EVERYTHING YOU DREAM OF. WHAT YOU MANIFEST WILL COME TRUE IF YOU BELIEVE IN IT ENOUGH!” I would shake her long and hard and only stop when she would either pass out or actually believe that she was worthy enough of a life that she deserves. However, based on my experience, my friend would most likely pass out first because often times we are conditioned to believe that wanting “too much” is a bad thing and that  dreaming too big will only result in failure and disappointment. That in life you cannot have it all and that even believing that you can is a fallacy and borderline selfish. We are taught that we should be happy with “what we get” and that settling is not wrong, just a natural progression of life. That there is happiness in living a life less fulfilled, just as long as all the bases are covered and you can go through the motions without too much of a fuss. For some people, the idea of that doesn’t scare them and that’s absolutely OK! There is no right or wrong way to live and view life, in fact, it’s healthy to have differing viewpoints and perspectives. However, when I think about my life and what I want it to feel like and look like, I have a few opinions. What scares me even more than the idea of waking up one morning with a life that I had manifested suddenly turned upside-down and everything that I’ve ever wanted taken away from me, is the idea of waking up one morning and realizing that I settled with an unfulfilling life because I believed that I didn’t deserve anything more than that. I simply cannot accept this destiny and I am learning to love myself enough to recognize that I am worthy of all that I dream of.

Even more so than me badgering myself with this Truth, I had the most poetic and perfect reminder of this in an unexpected, yet magical place. On Monday April 15, at noon in NYC, I walked into Tiffany & Co. on Fifth Ave. Dressed in my nicest shoes and a “Tiffany Blue” trench coat, I entered the store filled with jewelry many women dream of wearing one day. The midday rain and soaked streets of New York wore down the red soles of my Louboutins (rookie mistake ladies… don’t ever wear them in the rain!), and I quietly headed upstairs to the fourth floor for an iconic breakfast at The Blue Box Cafe. I looked the part, almost to a fault, in my perfectly matched outfit, an homage to the brand. However, despite my outfit that depicted a quintessential “Tiffany Girl” and the endless praise I was receiving from staff and customers alike for my fashion choices, I couldn’t shake the underlying uneasiness that accompanied eating alone in such a spectacular place. I felt like a well dressed fraud, who despite the sales associate’s initial impression, could not afford the $3,000 luggage they were trying to sell, nor the pleasure of another’s company to enjoy this experience with.

While my experience was nothing short of phenomenal at The Blue Box Cafe and the staff at Tiffany and Co. made me feel like a million dollars by dressing me up and accessorizing me in their finest leather goods (seriously you made my dream come true and I will never forget this feeling. You know how to make a girl feel so incredibly special), I still had a sense of unfinished business to attend to. Before departing from my trip on Cloud 9, there was one person I had yet to visit. As I stepped off the elevator and onto the second floor, I immediately saw her, my old friend Sandra. I met Sandra a year an a half ago during my trip to New York while in town for the 2017 NYC Marathon. I was  with my mother in Tiffany and Co. looking at rings, laughing about my lack of a love life and attempting to convince her that by the grace of God I will find someone who doesn’t want to vomit at the thought of sharing their life with mine/purchasing a ring that’s the price of a new of a Ford Fiesta. Sandra must have heard my mother and I’s banter (it’s hard to miss considering her and I are a very entertaining and expressive duo), and came over to address and advise the long-winded, yet jovial discussion. After convincing my mother that it was quite alright that I tried some rings on, Sandra graciously pulled out my ring so that I could show her what I’ve always wanted, so that she knew if/when the day ever comes where to send the lucky, (or unlucky, depending on your viewpoint) fella. From that day forward, my information has stayed with Sandra in her little black book on Park Ave., waiting for diving timing to intercede.

Most people don’t consider a “friend” to be a ring specialist who happens to work at the Flagship store of a designer brand, selling rings that cost as much as cars/homes, but Sandra is someone who is special to me. She is an honest and blunt, motherly like woman, who speaks to me the same way she speaks to her own two daughters. From the moment I met her and tried on my dream ring in 2017, I knew that Sandra would have a significant impact on my life in one way or another. Even a year an a half later, without any contact since, she remembered me, down to the ring size and style. I don’t know what possessed me to ask or why I had the strong notion to, but I wanted to make sure that this was still the right one for me. So I asked to try it on, just to be safe, of course. I’d be lying if I didn’t get a tiny bit emotional when I looked in the small mirror at my reflection in that moment. Without a shadow of a doubt that ring was meant for me to wear, regardless of who gives it to me; even if I end up giving it to myself. Sandra looked at me, with small tears in my eyes, and gave me some much-needed, motherly advice. She reminded me to stop feeling guilty for knowing what I want and to not be afraid to ask for it honestly. That I should be unwavering about what I deserve and to never settle for anything or anyone who doesn’t listen or isn’t willing to assist me in creating the life I dream of. To not compromise on “big” things in life in order to suit other people and make myself smaller for convenience. That moment became so much bigger than the 1.5  carat ring on my unengaged left finger, it was a testament to my life and the accordance to which I should hold myself.

Monday at noon, I entered Tiffany and Co. melancholy from the rain and from the unforseen shoe ruining fiasco.  A few hours later, I left their revolving doors feeling confident, empowered, and a new woman. I stood a little taller, had a sparkle in my eye, and a strut in my step. I took a deep breath and made a vow to myself and to Sandra that day that I would never again settle and I would always honor myself, even if that means buying my own damn ring one day.  As I hailed a cab on Fifth Ave. and looked back at building that now held so many amazing moments of growth, I knew that I was given such an incredible gift. I had my “Carrie Bradshaw ” moment in the most quintessential, fabulous way, and not a thing in the world could ever take that away from me ❤ 

 

Xoxo,

Emily