Though I love it when it rains in New York, I’m almost always without a umbrella.
You would think since I’m always checking the weather and I walk the dog before walking myself to work, I’d be better about grabbing one. But more often than not, I find myself staring out my desk window, willing the heavens to part the clouds just long enough for me to catch the 1 train. But the funny thing is, unless I have somewhere important to be, the subtle, often sudden, rainfall doesn’t bother me. I find it surprising, and when I just let my hair down to savor the mist, exhilarating. It makes my mind stop racing and rushing, and I enjoy the hush of the city, the splendor of a slower pace.
But on this blog — and if I’m honest, with my heart — I’m constantly sheltering myself with some sort of an umbrella, physically or emotionally. Though love looks like it trickles down steadily, and hope washes these pages and this girl, clean of our bitter stain — the truth is, I’m still kind of in hiding. I’m afraid of really getting out there. Really making a change. Really, truly, letting myself go. Letting myself grow up.
I started this blog more than three years ago, sitting in an old Victorian tub, bathing in my own misery, wishing love would find me. Now, I’m still betting on pennies and first stars that a wonderful man is in my cards and will be part of my fate, but I’m not sad. I’m bitter at times, yes. But I’m not angry at the universe, and I certainly enjoy the independence that I have. I go from date to date, and though the terrible ones still get to me, I’m better about brushing it off and moving on, chalking it up to experience and paying my dues. I’m a bolder, brighter and (in my eyes) more beautiful woman than I was when I first scribbled this blog. I’m more accustomed to myself, far more accepting of my flaws and my freedoms, willing to take it all in stride, all with a lot of self-love.
Now, I don’t need protection or shelter, so like I usually do every day, anyway, I’m forgetting the umbrella. I’m stepping out from underneath the storm and the rain, to dance in it and eventually, enjoy the sun that comes after.
I’m kissing this beautiful city that’s brought me so much love — and all of you, who have made this blog so well-read. I hope you’ll like the new look – and the new direction of Love Addict.
Though I’ll still write confessional blogs, I’ll also show you more of the things that I love. And more of the things I’m doing and risks I’m taking that are shaping my life. So much of this blog is about love, having it, making it, getting over it, wanting it, believing in it — but even once you’ve stumbled into the person you’ll share your life with, you (hopefully) don’t stop being you. You don’t stop loving things other than that man. There are many more things I love other than men (like great food, fun travel, new restaurants, music, beauty and art!), and I want to share them.
And I want you to share your confessionals, too.
This space wouldn’t be what it is without your loyal reading and commenting and tweeting. I’m blessed that you continue to click my posts and share your thoughts, so I invite you to share them in a bigger way. (Read how here.)
Though part of me will miss the umbrella and the shower of love that layered the love addict, I think I’ll enjoy the freedom, the fresh air, and the fun that comes from letting go and starting fresh. I don’t want to shield myself from a downpour of the good stuff — the love, the trial, the hurt, the Louie Armstrong moments, the dreams, the days, and yes, the men — that make my New York life everything that it is:
Unexpected. Exhilarating. Inconvenient. Lovely. A lot like rain, a lot like me.