Enjoy The Tunnel

I came to NYC to work for a production company three years ago.  The limo picked me up & took me through the Lincoln Tunnel.  

Little did I know that was yet another metaphor for my life.  Going through the tunnel would lead me to a life I never imagined.  Or maybe I did imagine it, i just never never imagined I’d act on it.

 I remember feeling nervous excitement during that ride through the tunnel.  I soaked it up knowing that as soon as I hit the end of the tunnel my life would never be the same.

I recently went through that same tunnel.  All the feelings of my first time through came flooding back.  The only difference is this time at the end of the tunnel was my home.  

I found my way through the darkness & not only found the light, but also found my home.  I realized the light waiting for me at the end of the tunnel was coming from inside me, not anything or anyone outside of me.

 I am the light.

My true self has been waiting for me at the end of every dark tunnel I’ve ever been through. 

The light always comes.  This I promise you.  The tunnel won’t last forever.  Some are longer, some are shorter, but there’s always a light at the end.  You are the light.

 Don’t walk.

Run to your high beam brilliance.


On This Day One Year Ago...

Every morning since we moved to NYC from Arizona feels like I’m Nicolas Cage in the movie “Family Man”.  Nothing is familiar even after 10 months of living here.  

I wake up in a queen size bed, horns & sirens blaring outside that my noisy window a/c unit can’t even drown out.

 I wait for my teen daughter to be done in our one bathroom before I can even pee.  I go out to our dining room/living room/office to my hubby talking loud on a biz call and cook in a hot kitchen with no a/c toppling everything over in the cramped space.

My dog has to go outside which means I have to put on a bra, shoes & actual clothes since I train clients in my building who I run Into.  I wait forever for her to pee since she still isn’t used to relieving herself publicly on the sidewalk.  

No one is familiar even after 10 months.  I see clients & think “You are very nice but where are all my Az BAMs?” I facetime my Az clients & hate the barrier of the phone between us wishing I could walk thru my Apple iPhone portal to give them a hug.

I somehow got myself elected as PA President of Beacon High school.  I run board meetings hearing all the demands & think  “Who are you people & what do you want from me?”  

The one familiar person I knew here who actually wanted me to come here has declared “I am dead” to him.  He’s correct: the Az Lis is dead.  

NYC Lis has been resurrected in her place.  Even though that friendship turned out to be toxic I still miss him.  He was the only familiar person besides my family here.  

There are times I feel so homesick for my former life, my tribe, that it physically hurts.  I long for our small tight knit catholic school community who prayed for us & openly talked about God.  I don’t hear the “G” word mentioned much & get the feeling it’s a taboo subject here.  

I get into my via carpool service enduring smells & conversations I do not wish to have.  I endure the subway & all its cattle car qualities complete with a myriad of distinct odors  

I lug my laundry down to the basement hoping there is an open washer & dryer. There are times when I just break down & sob telling my family let’s go back home.  Everything in NYC is harder, takes longer, is a fight.  

Yet...I have no regrets.  

As difficult as it is here, it would be much more difficult sittting in my 3,000 sq ft house with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, letting my dog out to relieve herself in her spacious backyard complete with a pool, my central a/c,  a kitchen the size of my entire nyc apt, driving my car around enjoying the solitude & lovely fresh new car scent, doing laundry in my own washing machine, waking up in my king size bed & lingering in my private jacuzzi tub. 

The trade off of seeing all my familiar, loving people and keeping all the comforts of my former life would have been the nagging question that we would have been asking every day:  “What would have happened if we had said yes to Beacon High school & moved to NYC?”

I’d be disappointed in myself that I chose to stay comfortable, that I chose convenience over challenge, that I chose to not grow.

So yes it’s fucking hard since I moved here but not nearly as hard as the regrets I’d have if we hadn’t moved. 

IMG_7723.PNG