April 9th began as an ordinary Tuesday, actually, a spectacular one. I wrapped a fantastic work project on Sunday evening, Monday was the solar eclipse, and that Tuesday it was so warm, sunny and bright that it called for a walk and visit to Mr. Softee. A perfect NYC spring day after much rain and gray skies. I left the house wearing a billowy floral dress and brand new white sneakers. Starring in my own sitcom as I exited my building, cherry blossoms floating over my head, I popped in my headphones put on my favorite corny song, Unwritten. Don’t judge me, you know you have a corny walking song too - the one that gives you hope and inspires you to live your dream? Yes, that one.

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips

Natasha was interrupted by a phone call. The name of my management company popped up on my phone. There I was, thinking I was receiving a call to confirm that we were all set with my new lease and sublessee paperwork.

Nope.

Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

(RING)

“Hey Tina, I had to call and tell you you that you can’t sublet the apartment anymore. Building insurance is changing and there’s no subletting allowed.”

(SILENCE)

“But nothing, I can’t, no exceptions?”
“No, I’m sorry, absolutely not.”
(This is a truncated conversation)
“Well, can I rescind my signature on the new lease that starts May 1?”
“I guess, but I hope you won’t do that.”
“Ok, I need a minute to think about this.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, be in touch.”

There was no Mr. Softee that Tuesday. There was no ice cream or sprinkles. No soft sweetness. The sunshine left my body. I walked in silence. Dead silence. My billowy floral dress turned into a straight jacket and my brand new white sneakers became leaden with weight. I was paralyzed with overwhelming fear. I called 3 friends and no one picked up the phone. I stood in silence. Dead silence. I took my straight jacket body and leaden feet to a tanning bed. In that moment of emptiness I needed to burn and be enclosed in a UV coffin. I walked in to Beach Bum tanning, got a room, tore off all of my clothes and laid down, naked, on lightbulbs.

After 12 minutes, the lights went off. I continued to lay there, crying in the dark, realizing I had 1 of 3 options 1) change my ticket and postpone the trip to Oaxaca, shortening it to 2 weeks vacation, and stay in New York for another full year working in production 2) suck it up, pay 6 months of rent to hold an unused apartment with my things while I’m in Oaxaca, then return to production work and make up for all of the saved money spent 3) let go of the apartment completely

The recognition that I needed to let go of the apartment was immediate. Staying in NY for a year, or postponing the trip, would’ve meant delaying moving forward because I might be scared to move on. I had been working towards letting go for the last two years, little by little downsizing my life and simplifying my space. How could I, in good conscience, hang on any longer to something that was no longer completely serving me? I realized, also in that moment, that I wasn’t scared anymore. I mean, I was petrified, but not enough to hang on or spend my savings on staying still. I recalled the numerous conversations I’d had with God over the last 7 years, “when you want me to leave this apartment, you’ll let me know, right?” And, so, he did.

On April 10th I woke up and took 15 photos of my apartment. I walked to the Hour Children Shops in my neighborhood, an organization that raises money to help support formerly incarcerated women and their families as they reunite. There was something poetic about my belongings going somewhere to support women getting a second chance to rebuild their lives. And, as luck would have it, as soon as I arrived at the shop, I was met by Pat who runs and curates the store. She’s usually not working in the front, but that day she was.

Pat and I spoke for a few moments and she instantly approved the photos of my furniture, emphatically saying “I’ll take everything.”

I walked out and I emailed the moving coordinator with my information. In less than 48 hours I had a confirmed pickup date for April 26th.

Was this God’s help? His timing? Dumb luck? An organization seeing my goods and thinking, “SCORE, MONEY MONEY MONEY?” Maybe it was all of it, but it helped to think it was the hand of God. It made it easier to let go. To let go of my apartment, things, clothes, belongings, possessions.

The letting go of my NY apartment might have been my greatest production event to date. It took me 21 years to build a life in Queens, and I lived in this very apartment for 14 of them.

The undoing of my prized NYC apartment took 1 visit to a thrift store and 6 days of packing boxes round the clock - alongside help and visits from friends. The only thing I was left reminded of was Thanksgiving dinner. Weeks of labor, preparation, planning … all for 1 meal that is devoured in moments. It felt like my life had been devoured in moments.

But was my life devoured, or was I on a path to freedom? A reason to be angry or, simply, a message from God? This is what I was left asking myself as I packed my apartment for good.

I walked past the thrift store on April 27th and all of my belongings were on display, tagged and ready for sale. It was unsettling, unnerving and, most of all, real. It was strange to see my furniture and pieces of my life scattered throughout the store. I took it all in, passing the butcher block where I would stand for hours - chopping and preparing meals. Taking photos of food; some meals made only for me - toast with mozzarella and olive oil - or homemade pastas, breads and cakes. Turning vegetables into something magical, almost holy and, elevated in their use - from stuffed squashes to vegetable pastas and 50 ways to use a sweet potato. The dates, the good and the bad, flashed before me in the timeline of my life. 14 years.

I heard Channon’s voice in my mind, words she said as she walked through my kitchen for the last time on Saturday night, “to think about all of the delicious food that came out of this kitchen.” Her words went right to my heart, molten lava chocolate cake burst open with sweet delight - and the sadness when it’s done and gone. That’s how I felt. Like I had my final, delicious bite here in this apartment. In that same moment she reminded me to also remember what I would be leaving behind and moving on from. In that, I felt relief.

On April 30th I packed 3 suitcases. The belongings I did keep, including artwork, books, journals, photos, sentimental items; along with some winter clothes - added up to 12 boxes. 12 boxes that were spread amongst friends and family for safe keeping. I couldn’t have undone my life so quickly without their help. Or God’s, to be honest. And, if you don’t believe in God, well, I suggest it might be worth it to think about how the pieces of our lives, ultimately, fit together like a giant puzzle. But, now I know that we can only see this when looking back. When our hearts are ready to experience a higher demand, en route to healing, and ready for what’s next. Sure, you might disagree, and that’s fine. But, as for me, there have been one too many signs in my life; and to ignore their presence would be to ignore a higher power. A higher power that lives, well, inside all of us. Now, I know this much to be true.

Ordinary Days Turned into New Beginnings