Posthip

You forget, living in Manhattan, that you are actually living on an island. Until I drove from Brooklyn, through Manhattan and into New Jersey on Saturday morning, it never really felt like an island. Driving across the Brooklyn Bridge and then through the Holland Tunnel gave me, for the first time, a sense of the separation.

Back in Texas now for 3 days, I’ve started to realize how much my sense of self is defined by being separate. I grew up poor in an affluent community. I had a weird religion. I was the liberal among conservative church friends. The plainly dressed one among my new wave school friends. The young one at my first job. A native Texan with no accent. The token straight.

I couldn’t figure out who I was in New York. I lost my sense of self, my sense of purpose. The last year or so I’ve become comfortable with who I am, even my obvious flaws. I tried to be perfect for a long time, to repress all my wayward desires and questionable impulses, but you can’t really repress all that forever. Eventually you have to realize that we all play the asshole in someone’s movie, and there isn’t really anything you can do about it.

So having made what felt like progress in the struggle to know myself, it was discouraging to lose that sense over the last few months in New York. “Rootless” is how I’ve been describing it. I couldn’t find anything to hold onto and I didn’t know where the waves were taking me. I felt desperate and dark at times. It wasn’t until I started thinking seriously about leaving that my mood lightened. As things converged, the decision to leave New York got easier and easier and in the end, the decision practically made itself.

It’s only been 3 days, but I feel better. My sense of self is returning. To me, the unexamined life really is not worth living, and New York didn’t really lend itself to self-examination. Maybe that’s why there are so many douchebags in New York.

So, for now, I’m here. I’m starting to feel motivated and purposeful again. The solid ground feels good, and the familiar faces are beautiful. As hard as it was to walk away, it feels even better coming back. I always wanted to move to New York, and I did it, and I’m glad I did. Instead of defining myself as something I’m not, I can define myself as something I am.

(Originally posted March 28, 2007)