Tag Archives: NYC

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A Single Soulmate?

I’ve never really liked the word soulmate.

Some may claim it’s because I haven’t met mine but I would argue that there is no such thing. A soulmate, by definition, is someone who is perfectly, identically, and spiritually aligned with your soul. Your everything because something you share, sparks fly the second you lay eyes on one another, and your interests, you values, your ideas are all in sync. If they are not matching, they at least compliment one another, and they fit the space that was never filled before.

Oh and of course, you can only have one. Soulmates don’t come in packs of 4 for a better-bang-for-your-buck deal and you can’t get a month-by-month subscription that you can cancel for a small fee. Nope, you only get one shot, one make-it-or-break-it decision, and you only have one individual who gets this special title.

And, frankly, that’s pretty limiting.

Over the weekend, I had a few friends in town – one I’ve known for over five years through the good, the bad, and all of it, and one who is the founder of a magazine that I’ve worked for since my sophomore year of college, but I had never actually met her in person until this weekend.

Both of these ladies I consider my soulmates. Along with a handful of other people, including old boyfriends and guys I dated (or made out with) for barely six weeks. And my mom. The list goes on-and-on –and I’ve always believed a person gets more than one soulmate in a lifetime.

Somehow seeing my old friend and meeting this new friend, who are both so full of beauty, integrity, wisdom, and vivid sincerity, solidified my thoughts towards soulmates (which, by the way, is taken from American writer, Richard Bach): a soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.

And the people who light up your life –they include more than a romantic interest. They include more than someone we go to bed with and more than someone we wonder how their last name will fit with our first.

You may not feel butterflies with a best friend, but you’ll feel that feeling –the incredible, incomparable notion that something is just right. That this person was meant to come into your life, meant to teach you something, and meant to be part of your happiness.

C and I were sitting across the table at this lovely restaurant, sipping champagne and wine, and catching up on years’ worth of stories and memories –and something just clicked. Deep inside of me, I felt like the stars had aligned, and this woman was sent to me to guide me, mentor me, and advise me. And of course, for me to listen to as well. Even though we had never had cocktails, as we were then, we had shared so many delicate and private details about our lives and struggles –and more often than not, we both knew exactly what to say to one another to ease the pain.

And then, there was my friend, R, who is a few years younger than me, but ten times stronger. We walked, arm-in-arm, with a few beers lagging behind us, as the chilly city fall air blowing against us, and something else clicked. I had been talking, analyzing, dreaming, doodling, and writing about living in Manhattan ever since I’ve known this girl. She gave me a sweatshirt and mints that said “New York” on them when I graduated from high school, created countless mixed CDs about city-living, made me posters, and given me encouragement when nothing else seemed to be a fix. And here she was, walking with me on our way to Columbus Circle to catch the train that would take her to my NYC apartment. It’s like again, the universe decided to lend a hand and put some pieces together.

I couldn’t imagine my life without either of these women. And they do make my life come alive. Just like my mother does. Just like my puppy Suzie, for that matter.

So what’s this talk about a soulmate by happily-ever-after definition? Why are we so hung up on finding that one person, when we can have several? Surrender those thoughts of a singular soulmate – and let those lovely ladies you adore so much to light up your life.

(To be overly cliché, isn’t it Carrie from Sex & the City (yes, I love this show, total confession that I will never try to hide) –who says “our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just who we have fun with.”)

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Baby on the B Train

Yesterday morning, I was completely hung-over on my way to work (hey, we had our Small Business Awards, I was allowed to be) and generally, not in a great mood. I didn’t get any sleep, the buckle on my red coat broke, my head hurt, and I was convinced my ass was looking a little wide in my new black sweater dress –isn’t that supposed to be a slimming color?

I always grab a paper on the way into the subway to read on my ride and as I was turning to page two, I heard the cutest laugh known to man. I looked up and saw a little girl (whom I later learned is named Olivia) bouncing in her stroller as her mother and father smiled down at her.

She looked over to me and giggled and waved, and of course, like any other woman, I waved and giggled back. I was admiring how insanely adorable she was –when suddenly, she looked at her mom and just burst into tears. And then she was screaming and attempting to get out of her stroller. The whole train was watching and her little face turned bright, bright red.

I instantly felt awful for her and felt the need to scoop her up, hold her close, and tell her that everything is going to be alright. Which is exactly what her mom did in one swift movement. Within a matter of seconds, Olivia was back to her beautiful, cooing-self, and was again baby-flirting at me.

For the rest of my train ride, Olivia and I waved and smiled and played peek-a-boo, along with other straphangers sitting near me. She watched me with her big brown eyes as she left the train, and once she was gone, it occurred to me how little we change from the time we’re babies until we’re adults.

I mean, every once in a while, don’t we all feel like bursting into tears in the middle of the subway (or anywhere, really) for no apparent reason, just because we want to?

And when we get ridiculously upset because it feels necessary at the time, don’t we want to get up from where we are, bury ourselves into someone (preferably handsome, tall, and strong) who will tell us that, “Baby, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

Isn’t that kind of why being a single gal is hard?

Say, hypothetically, I did burst into tears while riding from the Upper Upper West Side (Alright, Harlem, fine.) to Chelsea. And before I decided to let the floodgates open, I was just sittin’, smilin’, and gigglin’ at some cute stranger. What would happen?

I’d be considered crazy and someone, probably an older woman of sorts, would come and pat my back and tell me to calm down, that it’s alright, and ask me if I needed help. Someone might even throw some change at my boots.

But somehow, that kind of comfort doesn’t seem liberating. It doesn’t relieve the sadness or stop the tears –it just provides attention. What we really want is just to be held by someone we know loves us.

Part of being single is learning how to comfort yourself. It’s about learning how to stay strong, stay grounded, and have coping mechanisms that don’t involve a love interest. Sure, my friends receive ridiculous text messages randomly at all times of the day or night –but in general, I handle most of my emotions on my own.

What I want to be able to do is surrender all of those feelings: the wanting to cry, the feeling awful, feeling ugly, feeling disheartened, feeling discouraged, and feeling like my days of being a single will last forever. That I will never get my version of a darling little Olivia.

I hope my higher power can just take all of it away. Please, just take it away. Make it not as heavy on my heart and free me.

I can’t burst into tears on the middle of the B train. Just not a great idea.

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The Battle of Belief

The beauty of a new life. New York’s ability to give me a glimpse of hope in the most unusual places.  The comfort of my father’s chicken noodle soup. The smell of my mom’s hair when she gives me a heart-to-heart hug. The lines on my best friend’s face when she smiles. My puppy’s ever-lasting and faithful playful spirit. The peacefulness of the first leaf falling in Autumn, first bloom in Spring, first tiny fluttering flake in winter, and the first warm ray from the summer sky. The feeling of reaching something you thought was unattainable.

There are many, many things I believe in.

And in myself, I also believe in many truths. I believe I was born to be a writer. I believe I am brave, diligent, and strong. I believe in the power of my dreams and my power to turn my dreams into realities. I believe I am capable of doing anything I put my mind to –physically or emotionally. I believe I am blessed in so many different ways. I believe I can turn even tiny spaces into homes and I believe I was given the heart of a humanitarian.

Step 2 is about belief. I have to believe all negativity and fears of being single forever or being hard on myself can be lifted away. I have to believe that something higher than me can lighten my load and ease my worries.

I have to believe.  And I don’t.

This isn’t to say I will always feel this way –but Step 2 is going slower and is full of more difficulty than Step 1. I get to a point where I start to feel like everything will change, that I will grow and mature, and not let self-defeating thoughts and fears get to me. I’ll have a day where I feel completely secure with just being me-and-only-me, and then the next day, I see something that makes me lonely…and the sense of longing is right back where it was –the pit of my heart rocking my everything.

How do I make myself have that sincere feeling of complete trust all the time? Why can’t I just believe that a higher being can just take all of this away? Is a feeling of contentment something that’s not constant? Is it always just going to come and go, make me hopeful and then scared, together and then messy?

Belief in something out of our hands. Why is that so much more difficult than things we see, things we touch, things we’ve experienced to be true and real? Why is belief in something that is not proven, not guaranteed, not a matter of fate –so difficult to retain?

Why is the constant battle between faith and fear a fight we have to go through? Why can’t we just believe that all that is meant to be, all that’s meant to happen, all that we’re meant to be part of, feel, and endure –will just happen.

Why can’t we just let the control go? Why can’t I believe?

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Why’d You Write a Love Story?

Every other Friday I volunteer as a Young Author Mentor for 4th and 5th graders who have difficulty with writing. It’s been one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had in the city, and while they are extremely rowdy -I look forward to seeing them and teaching them the skills of the trade.

Yesterday, we were showing the kids how to create an outline for a story. We read a short story out loud to them and then asked them to identify the different parts of the story: the setting, the conflict, the characters, the theme, etc. Then, of course, they had to write their own outlines so they could put what they just learned in practice.

This particular session, I’m paired with two girls and a boy. The girls are writing their outlines, which happen to be about “not fitting in” or “being part of the popular crowd” or “being pretty”, and the boy is in the process of writing his outline that had something to do with scaring people on Halloween, someone wanting him to stop scaring people, and he wouldn’t, and then something big happened? I’m still not quite sure.

As they are writing and I’m answering their questions, the boy sweetly asked, “Ms. Tigar, where’s your outline?”

I hadn’t been writing anything because I was too preoccupied helping them, so I decided to make something up off the top of my head (that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?). I started scribbling down some story about a guy named Adam and a girl named Lucy and how every Saturday they would go running in Central Park and then get coffee at this cute little corner shop. Then one day, Adam trips and falls and they have to rush him to the emergency room, and in a panic, because Lucy is so upset, she professes her undying love for him.

As I describe this story, all three of them look at me confused, and the rather smarty-pants girl says, “Your story is a love story?” I nodded, and the other girl asked, “But they end up happily ever after, right?” I nodded again, and they both seemed satisfied. The boy in true typical man fashion asked, “Why did you want to write a love story?”

That’s a good question, kid.

Back when I was their age, I probably would have written about not fitting in or not feeling pretty (I really doubt I’d ever write about something scary) -but the first thing that popped into my head was to write a story about two people who have to find their way to each other and then they fall in love and end up in perfect bliss. So realistic, right?

Hmm. Maybe I need to take a writing lesson from the kids I’m teaching, eh?

My current chapter in the story of my life isn’t about romance or intrigue or passion. It’s not even about lust or crushes or incredible sex (although, I wouldn’t complain). This time in my life is more like this:

Lindsay’s Outline

Character(s): Lindsay

Setting: NYC

Conflict: Lindsay has an internal conflict where she hates being single, doesn’t love herself how she should, and has to learn how to be content as an individual before finding Prince Charming.

Plot: Lindsay moves to NYC, finds a job and an apartment, goes on lots of dates, breaks up with her ex-boyfriend in a dramatic series of unfortunate fights, realizes she sincerely has a problem, embarks on the journey of 12-steps to solve her issue…

Theme: No matter where you are, who you’re with, what adversary you’re facing, or what happens in your life -you have to have faith in and love yourself.

The Beginning.

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The City of Love

Manhattan is coined as a pretty dirty place -full of grime and crime, thugs and lugs –and everything in between. The streets are aligned with trash, and the city changes with the wind –one block can be completely high-rise and luxurious, while the next will make you hold your bag a little closer.

I’ve been asked (mainly by my Southern relatives) why “on God’s green Earth would you ever move to New York City?” In fact, why did I decide to move away from North Carolina in the first place –away from the back winding roads, the calm nights with fireflies, and miles away from my alma mater, making it impossible for me to come to homecoming?

Why didn’t I, like all of the other girls in my family, settle down, find a good country boy, and get married? Why did I decide to go to this huge, scary, and dangerous place…alone?

To them, I reply, “I love New York.” They will smile, tell me they are praying for me, and then whisper amongst themselves about my absurdity.

Eh –maybe I’m a little crazy. I think to willingly choose to move to NYC, you’d have to be a tad out of your mind. But, the city draws in the crazies, the out-of-the-boxers, the strange-and-the-beautiful, the very-talented and the overly ambitious.

But if you look closely, slow down, pay attention, and examine everything going on around you –you’ll find the city is full of love. It’s not just that I adore the city –it’s that the city itself provokes kindness.

 

Written on the street outside my office :)

 

When you cross the street –you’re never alone. There’s always someone on one side of you, if not on both. When you sit down on a subway car, leave it, or enter it –there are always people near you. When you go grocery shopping, buy new shoes, pay for deodorant, or even just wipe your nose -you’re always surrounded by someone else. Even riding home in the taxi after a night of drinking –the cab driver sits right in front of you.

And while it’s not typical to speak to strangers (unless you’re from NC, like me) –you will catch yourself leaning up against the person on the subway, or find them lingering on you a while longer after the initial jolt of a stop. Or when you cross the street, sometimes, you’ll notice someone step with you –a little cautious of the cars that may forget to stop. Or when you’re sitting alone reading a book, it’s not uncommon to notice someone looking at you, caught in their own world of thoughts –only using you as a focus point.

You’ll find people helping each other by carrying heavy bags up stairs or opening doors or waiting for you to pass by. You’ll find an old woman bring her husband lunch to his office on the same block they’ve lived and worked for 50 years. You’ll find children kissing their parents and running through the streets like it’s their playground. You’ll find a couple you just know are on their first date –completely awkward, but somewhat enthralled, drinking a few beers, and wondering what’s next.

Sometimes you’ll pass friends comforting  each other on the side of the street, as one cries, and one remains strong –looking around to make sure no one messes with them. You’ll find yourself sharing glances with someone else who is responding the same way you are to a strange occurrence, a sudden sound, or a funny conversation.

The city makes you interact with other people –regardless if you want to or not. It forces you to come out of your shell and see what’s going on around you. It shows you that even in the most ordinary and most random of places –there is friendlessness and love all around.

I’ve been worrying that this process would somehow make me stop believing in love. It would make me cool and confident, but not warm and loving. However –as I wondered the streets today, both with a friend, and then alone –I realized that New York would never let that happen.

Gaining faith in myself and relaxing about being single doesn’t mean that my faith in love goes away. It doesn’t mean I have to stop enjoying seeing examples of love in everyday life or be inspired by seeing real love exist. Being okay single doesn’t mean I have to stop dreaming.

It simply means that the constant quest for love, the constant search, and longing for a relationship needs to fall later in my list of priorities. It means that I just let go of pushing and pulling for happily ever after, and allow something bigger than me take care of things for me. For now, watching love in the city fills my heart up with so much hope and peace –I can’t even put it into words.

I always knew I loved you New York, but I didn’t know you loved me this much, too.