In my March contribution to The Pastry Box Project, Searching for Space, I share the story of why I left NY to find what I was looking for, and how I eventually found it within myself.
[Read more at The Pastry Box Project]
My heart started racing. My palms got sweaty. I couldn’t breathe. I felt faint. Out of nowhere I screamed to Fredrick to get out of the cab. He jumped and I stumbled out after him, panting on the curb between two parked cars. He was baffled, but I couldn’t get myself together enough to explain what was going on. I saw a restaurant across the street and ran, throwing open the door and begging the cleaning staff to let me use the restroom. I raced in and locked the door behind me, and there in a dirty unisex restaurant bathroom, I lost myself.
When I finally emerged to Fredrick’s looks of concern, I only had one thing to say: “I have to get out of New York.”
With everything I had in life, I didn’t have the one thing I so desperately needed — my space.
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