We all have those days. The ones that knock you down. Or leave you feeling like the last crispy french fry in a McDonald’s brown paper bag that we all tend to eat around. Well, today was one of those days for yours truly.

Nothing seemed to go right. And everything inevitable went wrong.

Most of this was due to work. I dropped the ball on a few things, did a poor job at prioritizing my tasks, and let the attitudes of those around me affect me personally. This resulted in me staying at the office until 8:30 PM, ending a 12 hour day by walking into the pouring rain without an umbrella.

When it rains, it pours.

And I mean pours. It was as if I was starring in my own movie and I had just walked into a scene requiring a fake rain machine. You know, where it is fake-raining so hard that it’s laughable to think it looks even somewhat realistic?  The producers must get their inspiration from a stormy New York evening. With raindrops so large it felt as though I was receiving a gentle massage from a small foreign woman.

I was soaked by the time I arrived at the doorstep of my apartment building. I felt about as destroyed as the multiple umbrellas left on the side of the pavement, damaged and turned inside-out from the rain. I wanted to bring one inside, make it a cup of tea,  and vent about the awful day we had. But alas, I returned home to an eerily empty, and unforgivingly cold apartment that was confused about the sudden drop in temperatures outside.

I made myself a cup of tea, warmed up a bowl of vegetable soup on the stovetop, and did what all grown adults do when they have a shitty day. I called my Mom.

We talked about the upcoming trip her and my Dad just recently booked to visit me here in the big apple. We spoke briefly about the debt I am in, the unrealistic idea of finding a new job altogether {the dream job, not the pay-the-bills job}, and the fact that it’s okay to be wrong sometimes. We are only human, after all.

I knew this year would be tough. I wrote about it in an earlier blog post discussing my initial move to New York. So motivated. So innocent to the grit of the concrete jungle. And fearless of the future. But even then, I prepared myself as best as I could for what was in store. I’d been warned of the beast that is New York City.

Since then I have learned a lot. I am astounded at the amount of things unfamiliar to me, that I assumed I had already figured out by this point in my life. My life is so different than I had imagined it would be. And that’s just the honest truth.

In no way am I denying my love for this city. I love New York. But New York is tough. It’s colossal, it’s aggressive, it’s unwavering. New York doesn’t stop, or even slow down, for anyone. There is a lot to be said for this. After all, it was one of the reasons I moved here in the first place.

But it is tough.

After hanging up the phone, I took a long drink of my peppermint tea {even my preference in tea has been altered by this city}. I reflected on my day and asked the question we never want to ask ourselves when feeling like the pea under the princess’s mattresses.

Will this day truly matter a year from now?

The answer, quite simply, is no.

Sure, it feels like I’ve lost control of the last 24 hours. But life goes on. New York will make sure of that.

If my plans go accordingly, I won’t even be in the same country a year from now. Let alone worrying about whether my boss thinks I am illiterate a few weeks into the job.

There is so much more to life than the things we find ourselves consumed with. I never wanted to be this person. The one that carried work home with her. Or at least the negative feelings connected to the work.

It’s hard to pull yourself out of your hole when you’ve been digging it so consistently that you are almost proud of how fucked up things have become, and how deep you really are. It’s hard until you see something of beauty. Something that reminds you of the other things in life. The things beyond the dirt walls you find yourself in.

Things like New York in spring. Because nothing really matters after experiencing a day laying on a park bench along the waterfront, sun bathing. Or walking through Central Park with a stranger, watching lovers row along the lake in their tin boats. Or standing under a cherry blossom tree with the pink and white petals surrounding you like snow.

April showers bring May flowers.

In this case, we get some April flowers too. Which only reminds me that walking home in the pouring rain is not what I will remember a year from now. I will remember the tulips blooming in Tribeca. I will remember waking up each morning with windows wide open, breathing in the warm, moist air. I will remember laughing on the subway with my dearest friends.

You will always find something blooming after a bit of rain. For flowers cannot survive without it. I hope that like these flowers, I too will find necessity in the strenuous days. The days full of doubt, distress, and relentless real-fake-rain.

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