We all have that one friend who has been there through thick and thin—someone who knew us during our awkward childhood days, complete with oversized glasses and braces. For me, that friend is Sarah. Two years ago, she and her family relocated from New York City to London, promising to return for a month each summer. Then the pandemic hit, and they missed their chance to visit.
Finally, thanks to vaccines and testing, they were able to make the trip this summer. However, the time flew by, and with only a few days left, we had only managed a single reunion. We both understood the whirlwind of life that kept us busy—she was catching up with family and friends, while I was navigating my own challenges after the loss of my husband three years ago.
When Sarah suggested we meet up on Wednesday, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. My initial instinct was to decline. I expressed how much I wanted to see her, but the thought of heading into the city triggered my anxiety. In the past, I might have conjured an excuse—work commitments or pet care—but with someone who knows me so well, that felt unnecessary.
After a moment, I decided to take some time to think about it.
Anxiety often prompts me to say “no.” This tendency has intensified since becoming a widow. I’ve learned the hard way that life can be unpredictable and that the more you have to lose, the scarier it can feel to step outside your comfort zone. I’ve come to accept that it’s okay to say “no” sometimes, but I also knew that this time might be different.
Reflecting on the situation, I realized that if I missed this chance, it could be another year before we connected again. I didn’t want to live with regret. So, I began to analyze the reasons behind my anxiety.
First, there was transportation. Normally, I’d take public transit, but this time I needed to drive. Driving in New York City is notoriously chaotic, but I reminded myself that I had done it before. The pandemic had not changed my ability to navigate the streets safely.
Then, I considered the potential for traffic. I planned to leave after the morning rush hour, which would help. I also reassured myself that even if I faced delays, it wouldn’t be catastrophic; my kids weren’t home, and my dog would be thrilled to see me regardless of when I returned.
Parking was another concern. The mere thought of it usually sends me into a panic. But what if I allowed myself to park in a lot this time? A small splurge for a long-awaited reunion didn’t seem unreasonable.
Finally, there was the fundamental discomfort of leaving my safe space. But I understood that even within my comfort zone, unpredictability exists.
Ultimately, I realized that I would regret not going more than I would regret any worries I had. I called Sarah and told her I’d join her.
The journey wasn’t without its hurdles. A sudden downpour hit as I merged onto the highway, and navigating through city traffic was nerve-wracking. Yet, amidst the chaos, I spent precious moments with my oldest friend, enjoyed lunch outdoors, and shared stories that had been lost over two years of virtual communication.
While I may not suddenly start saying “yes” to everything, that day served as a reminder that sometimes pushing through anxiety can lead to unexpectedly joyful experiences. Plus, my dog was delighted to receive a long walk and extra treats when I got home.
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