Every Day a Post, Every Day a Lesson

In coffee shops, uptown a few blocks and here. On my bed, at my desk, on my friend’s phone. At my computer, on Mr. P’s laptop, in Penn Station waiting on a train. Sitting in the airport days before Christmas. In my living room, on the couch, at the kitchen table. In Bryant Park at night, at Columbia University, sitting cross-legged on the cold hardwood floors.

Wrapped up in blankets as the snow came down, while looking out dirty windows at some cafe in Williamsburg as I watched Mr.P concentrate with his tongue out across from me. In a rush, with days to spare, when it was way too rainy to set foot outside. Lounging naked in front of my air conditioner, rushing in after a busy day to beat the clock, standing in the corner on one leg so I could have enough signal in the back of a Southern-themed bar on the Upper West Side.

For the last 364 days, I’ve published this blog from dozens of places.

The ideas and the fodder have been just as diverse. From conversations with friends and family to experiences I’ve had with Mr. P and all the others. While trying to sort through emotions, while watching people in love, people falling apart, people being messy and complicated, as people often are. In dark instances where the world seemed too big, in bright, sunny days that gave me Louie Armstrong memories and made me feel like the world was actually quite small. During times I couldn’t understand and through days where I felt like I had it all figured out. While feeling my heart expand to welcome a possible love in and then while feeling it shrink when feelings weren’t mutual. Through months of feeling lost and uncertain, questioning everything I ever knew, and throughout the hours where everything felt so right that it was scary. When inspired by people I meet or books I read, or places I’ve been or things I’ve seen, but also when nothing at all made me want to write other than knowing I’d regret it at 12:01 a.m.

And now, as I write this, knowing that tomorrow will come and go, that the final post that I’ve yet to write will go live and then the day will pass, I can’t decide if I feel sad or thoroughly impressed with myself. To be honest, it’s probably a bit of both.

My intentions changed as the blog continued, as I progressed and I noticed loyal readers like Larry who comments nearly every day, and girls who remind me of myself, like Katie, Christina and Suzie. Or some beautiful soul who lives where it rains all the time, drinking coffee and giving superb, heartfelt advice. And then there’s the ladies from Tel Aviv and Ms. Lexamantis from South Africa. Or Jenny from Philly who is quite tweety, and Moose Michaels who inspired one of my most well-trafficked blogs. And Dear Ex-Girlfriend who provides cheeky, sarcastic advice from a real dude’s point of view. Or my San Fran gal who is talented and ever-so-kind, even sending me a real-life Valentine. And Kacey, Marlee and Stephanie who update Facebook regularly with cute pictures that remind me of my life in New York. And Lovephool from London and Cat from this city, and Divorcing Mr. Wrong who’s red dress I’d love to borrow. I couldn’t even begin to explain how many more there are, too.

This blog has been my personal journey, but it’s also been the journey of so many people. Most of which, I’ll never meet. But somehow, there is something about being open and honest, allowing my raw emotions and candid thoughts to have an open forum and space for people to relate…that has made LoveAddictNYC.com what it is. It’s the first domain name I’ve ever bought, and it was worth every penny.

I’ve grown so much over the past year, through each of those 12 steps, through all of the changes that have made my current life what it is, and I’m so thankful that others could find comfort in what I wrote. I can now promise without any doubt whatsoever that anything you’ve felt, anything you’ve wondered, anything that’s caused you tremendous pain or any worry you thought was ridiculous about love or about how you look or about being a 20-something…someone else has had too. And someone will again.

Nothing I’ve said on these pages is original or unique, they are just my struggles and my achievements, my analysis of the wonder and the bewilderment that love often brings. They don’t give insight into a true addict’s nature, just into the obsessive and scary dangers of being someone who tries for love, who tries to be their own greatest fan, who tries to be all that they can, and sometimes fails. Without those moments of crazy, we could never have those visions of clarity.

Thank you all for being there with me, for your honesty and your advice. For sharing my work with others, for helping me land my dream job (yes, this blog was part of it!), for sending me Tweets and emails, liking me on Facebook and liking me in real life. For being my friend, even though we may be oceans away. For helping me learn a lesson with ever post I wrote. This journey may be coming to a close in a matter of hours, but you will all forever be part of my journey.

And tomorrow, come back for your final daily visit at 2 p.m. EST.

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4 thoughts on “Every Day a Post, Every Day a Lesson

  1. Was that my first kudos ? Maybe some other Larry ?. And I know I only wrote back sporadically by weeks, then more frequently. Well, don’t be a stranger. There are a few different beasts all wear the same coats of men. Some are flexible, adapt for a woman, some don’t. Find a man who appreciates you. Don’t ever tolerate an introduction by name , and not title of girlfriend, first. The implication is NOT classy. At least be the guy’s “date”, and that’s not so great a title either.

    I’ll miss your musings. I’m a bit the love addict, too. But a lot more nerdy, and I nearly always let some bright woman with delightful physical needs hold on to me for extended periods, as long as we can have other things to talk about and other activities, too. But they always have to stay nice,

    I’m now fortunate to have four ladies at a distance interested: a teacher, a doctor, an accountant, and a very hot perfume store sales manager. Never expected that to happen.

    Larry

  2. Linds, Its been wonderful taking this journey with you. It never felt like a year and definately didnt feel like it was only a good read if youre 20-something. And maybe things youve said or felt were not unique, yes we all fall in love and back out, and all of us have felt at some point or another that our life is falling apart and then falling back into place again, but its the way you said it that touched us. The way you wrote it that was intriguing, fascinating, full of passion and so real.

    You are a great writer and I hope, scratch that, I’m sure that one day I’ll be reading your daily articles in some magazine, or mabe a book. Until then or until you start some new blog, I’ll re-read your blog, or at least the posts that especially touched me.

    I truly wish you all the best that life can bring in all areas of your life. Xxx

  3. Dear Lindsay,

    It’s scary how I find myself in between your sentences and your words. I was guided here by an anonymous person who posted on my blog in the early hours of the morning after I’ve been struggling with yet another horrible break up. I just turned 21 over the summer and it’s hard for me to believe that my life is only just beginning because I feel like it’s pretty much over now.

    I am excited to read more about life in NYC and being a love addict myself, hopefully gaining some insights from your blog.

    You and that anonymous person have both been a blessing for me and I just wanted to leave a small thank you.

  4. Pingback: More great reading « east.bay.writer

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