Last fall, I made a plan to get through the dark, cold days of winter. During the previous two years, I’d traveled between Denver and Florida every other weekend to spend time with my sun-loving spouse, while maintaining a full roster of in-person and telehealth clients in Colorado. Although I had no interest in spending the entire winter in Florida, I was weary of the constant air travel and decided it was time for a change. So, last October, I left my job in Denver to embark on an adventure in New York City.
Some folks questioned my timing of the move to coincide with winter in NYC. I’ll admit, I was slightly apprehensive about choosing somewhere that is damp, gray, and bone-chilling. But, in the city that never sleeps, with its bright lights, constant buzz, and endless places to explore, fighting the seasonal blues was remarkably easy.
My apartment faced a middle school, and while the students’ voices often reached piercing levels through my single-pane first-floor window, I loved watching their adolescent antics on the adjacent field. High school students crowded the other end of the street. I frequently found myself surrounded by them when returning from a museum or tour. I’d also pass waiters setting up for dinner service in the corner restaurant’s outside shed, a few homeless guys smoking weed in a doorway, spandex-clad twenty-somethings on their way to the gym, old folks from a nearby senior center shuffling behind grocery push carts, moms and dads with strollers, and an occasional dog walker juggling multiple leashes. There was a pet store, deli, bakery, nail salon, liquor store, and Goodwill, all within a block.
When asked about safety concerns, I can honestly say I only felt vulnerable during early Sunday morning walks to buy the Times. At that hour, the streets were occupied solely by those who’d slept there, and I missed the usual security of crowds. Most nights, I’d walk home late from shows or dinner with friends, finding the streets as vibrant at 10 PM as they were at noon. A sprawling produce stand on Eighth Avenue operated 24/7—apparently more practical than opening and closing daily—offering fresh apples and broccoli even at midnight.
Despite the trash, noise, traffic, sirens, crowds, and high cost of living, New York’s magnetic pull persists. Manhattan alone houses nearly 1.7 million people, each with their own unique story. Every age, size, gender, color, ability, and capacity was on display, on every street, at every hour. And that’s just what was visible, most of which probably had very little to do with all that wasn’t visible in each of those individuals. I couldn’t help but wonder about their inner lives.
While some might struggle with the anonymity of such a vast city, I’ve always cherished it. There’s a profound freedom in realizing you’re wonderfully insignificant – that no one cares what you wear or how you look, how you walk or talk, whom you love or hate. Your origins, occupation, thoughts, hopes, beliefs, and fears all fade into the city’s endless symphony of lives being lived.
It was a remarkable experience. Of course, renting an apartment in NYC is not something I can do every year, as fun as that sounds. So, as that dreaded slide towards winter began approaching again…I wondered what proactive steps I could take this year to get me through the season. Going back to work feels like a good choice; it’s just another way of embracing that endless symphony of lives being lived, this time back in Colorado. As a therapist and parenting coach, I have the rare privilege of learning about people’s inner worlds, hearing their stories and learning about their experiences, of both love and loss. Bearing witness to the lives of others, gives purpose to my own. It was a wonderful sabbatical… and now I’m glad to be back.
