Last Tuesday marked one year since I started my job. Not placing much weight on a work-iversary, I was happy to proceed with business as usual, but my roommate (and #1 cheerleader) insisted we celebrate.
That very evening, I dashed out still sweaty from my weekly ballet class to meet her at Semma, a trendy South Indian restaurant in our neighbourhood she had managed to snag us a walk-in table at. Despite being roommates with my best friend, our days are so busy we often forget we actually live together — only having time to quickly hey what’s up and see you later in between our respective routines. Going out just the two of us was a luxury we intended to relish in.
We found ourselves seated one table over from a father-daughter duo visiting from Austin, who after ordering their own dishes politely struck up a conversation with us about the restaurant compared to other Indian spots in the area (amazing btw, couldn’t recommend more). Food talk turned into New York talk which turned into life talk, and long story short — less than 30 minutes into the dinner — waiters were called over to push together our tables and bring out sharing plates for the meal. My best friend and I laughed as we realised our catch-up time was quickly turning into a fabulous, if not impromptu, group dinner with strangers.
With the daughter, I bonded over the silly TikTok video critiquing Semma for not serving Chicken Tikka Masala (if you know, you know) and how we both hate when people say they want to make plans and then never follow through (we should grab coffee next week — AKA see you never).
With the father, I accidentally had an hour-long conversation about healing after the recent end of my relationship. I say ‘accidentally,’ even though I definitely bring it up all the time and to everyone I meet (read here), because I didn’t think he would actually care or engage with my off-handed breakup comments. Obviously, I should’ve expected that after raising three confident daughters (we heard the whole family’s life story) he would know a thing or two about dealing with heartbreak. So, not only did I leave the restaurant at 11.30pm on a weeknight having sampled the most mouth-watering Gunpowder Dosa, but freshly armed with a plethora of meditation recs, metaphors on life and grief (learn to stand still when a wave comes), and three new breathing techniques for stress and anxiety.
A big believer in signs, I knew this couldn’t be a coincidence.
Exactly one year ago to the day, I not only started my job, but what I can safely say has been the most exciting year of my life: I moved into an apartment with my best friend (in our quaint little hometown of New York — have you heard of it?). Together, we met a whole group of new people, and I also finally let go of some people who weren’t good for me. I created new habits and routines, and found comfort in old customs I thought I had outgrown (the return of ballet in my life!).
Achievements from this past year which have made my life what it is:
ticked off at least 7 recipes from my cookbook, many of which were force-fed to my friends at various themed dinner parties.
wrote (!!!) more than I ever have before.
introduced friends who are now friends independently of me, and feel secure in the community I have around me.
honoured traditions to myself (fresh flowers in my room every week, no exceptions).
attended events alone.
made spontaneous (for the first time ever) going-out plans.
cracked into the literary scene and met people with the same hobbies as me.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The day prior to my work-iversary also happened to mark one month since my breakup, and the combination of surviving a whole 31 days (who’s counting, am I right?) of my first heartbreak with surviving my first year in adulthood had me teeming with emotions I didn’t know how to navigate. I couldn’t understand how to feel grateful for the life I created while in a period so deeply tinged with sadness.
What I’m learning, and was prompted by my deep and meaningful conversation with strangers at Semma (in between mouthfuls of banana leaf-wrapped branzino the duo so generously offered I try), is that multiple things can be true at once: sometimes, our celebrations and milestones will come alongside some of our most gut-wrenching and devastating obstacles. These ‘down’ moments don’t negate our happiness, but highlight it.
Last Saturday night during NYC’s first major Spring thunderstorm, my best friend and I found ourselves in our home cooking a spicy spaghetti alla norma and drinking red wine. Gazing at the outpour beyond our kitchen window, she turned to me said, “we’re going to miss this apartment so much when we leave,” to which I immediately replied, “thank god we’re here right now.” Every good phase in our lives is inevitably accompanied by the chasm of eventual loss — a fact that only increases our dire need to celebrate the present. Whether it’s at a table with new faces or in a kitchen with old ones, I’m just happy to be here at all.
We had a blast! Thanks for sharing your time with us. Glad I could share what I had access to. I keep trying to practice “don’t become your emotion”. The day is the same. It is how we choose to experience it. Observe don’t become 😊! Easy to say. Takes time to heal and practice. Life is beautiful because of the journey.
the way you live your life and the way you view life influences me, for lack of a better word. thank god we're here right now indeed. p.s. congratulations on one year working!