The Version of Me in NYC 🗽
2017-2019: Chaos in Heels
Steam curled up from subway grates as I power-walked Broadway in rain-soaked stilettos crying, under eating, sleepless, yet still nailing every lecture, two internships, and endless dance classes. Friends saw a grin; Mom and my brother saw the cracks. It was heartbreak + feeling “behind” + “not good enough” the full quarter-life cocktail.
Dorm-Room Floor Confessions
Alone in my tiny single, I’d face-plant on cold tile, sob, then yank myself up for heel workshops with Ksyn, The Dollhouse, Aisha Francis all queens who slowly reignited my spark and reminded me my body could still live inside the music.
Walk, Breathe, Repeat
I skipped the subway, clocking miles instead earbuds pumping therapy playlists. When panic spiked, I’d duck into a bathroom, plunge my hands under icy water, inhale four counts, exhale four counts, and keep it moving. That trick saved more nights than I can count.
The Night Tank DMed
One evening, fresh off work, I caught Tank’s Sex, Love & Pain II tour at BB King’s. He joked about me filming (“Sis, you making a bootleg?”), then slid into my Instagram DMs after the show “ All love, just playing.” Serotonin unlocked.
Dating While Unhinged
Funny truth: rock-bottom energy is apparently magnetic. My DMs overflowed, dates lined up like taxis at Penn Station. Healed me gets crickets; chaotic me got invites. Therapy sessions became weekly deep dives into self-worth, love, and why attention ≠ affection. Wednesdays blurred into late-night hangs with Uncle Carlos Tommy’s crew life advice served with greasy diner fries.
The Quiet Turning Point
Between 6 AM lifts, heel bruises, and those frost-breath city walks, I stacked accomplishments I was too anxious to celebrate. Only later did I realize NYC had held both my breakdown and my breakthrough.
2026: Same City, New Nervous System
Anxiety? Basically ghosted thank you, weekly therapy, journaling, lifting, dance, and miles of fresh air. My blog the dusty side project from eight years ago is now a thriving home for intentional stories on healing from anxiety and creative purpose. Mind, spirit, body: healthier than ever, and the goals keep stacking.
I’m living proof you can chase a dream, shatter, glue yourself back together, and still hit publish glitter everywhere, stilettos on.
Call to Heart
💌 Share this with your favorite mess in progress
Because if you’re knee-deep in your own concrete jungle spiral, remember: the cold water resets, the midnight walks, and the sweat-drenched studio lights are carving the stronger version of you right now. Keep breathing. You’re not lost you’re under construction.
Sessi. Dancing Corners 
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