Robot life in NYC


I am the stereotypical Aquarius: A freedom loving person with a creative mind-set, that doesn’t like adhering to rules or following orders. Someone who needs long adventures, globetrotting our lovely earth. But somehow my nature has been locked into a very unsuitable set of living conditions, that are making me flat-out depressed. When I track back my path, it started with the strong desire to becoming a mother. All I cared about is finding the right guy to have a child with. The future? What’s that? My mind couldn’t process anything further than the next step to become pregnant as my child-bearing age advanced scarily beyond the the risk-free lines. I found my love, I became a mom and after the brain fog slowly faded I realized: I am stuck in NYC! How could I have not thought of this obstacle at all when planning for a family? My husband – an interior design entrepreneur whose entire workshop and clientele are based here has roots that can’t easily be severed. I never thought about this until I realized that maternity leave in the States consists of 3 months off – if you’re lucky and take all your year’s vacation time – and that child care costs an arm and a leg. Why bother working you wonder, if childcare might equal one person’s monthly salary, but what about the company benefits? Health-care, 401k with company contributions? My family is insured thanks to my employment and if I am old and broken I might get private retirement funds if economics allow. All the sudden I found myself incarcerated by my choices. We can’t move, because my husband’s on-going fruit of labor is in the city – that’s it. BAM. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. (And believe me I would, if not for a weed pollen allergy.) It’s been almost 4 years now since we had a baby and I am starting to get mental, like someone locked up in a maximum security prison. I am not someone who deals well with restrictions and not being able to move is killing me inside out. I have no roots. I am not loyal to a single place. The world is my oyster. I see nothing wrong with traveling the world for a few years and omit schooling altogether. Having been pinned down in NYC for 11 years has become like a death sentence. All that has once been fabulous and exciting has turned stale and overwhelming. In order for me to think and create and find my happiness I need solitude, nature and space. But ultimately it’s the lack of open spaces, big skies and the wild, fresh air that is causing me to collapse and fold inward. As I get older I prefer to station myself in-midst the earth’s true form, with short, temporary visits to large metropoles, instead of the opposite. The weekend trips to national parks Upstate and bi-annual vacations are not providing enough mental adjustment time. I am worried about my four-year old son, and that he won’t have the opportunity to properly bond with nature, not able to explore, venture out, tumble and fall, play in earthy dirt, examine bugs, and animals, enjoy the fresh smell of hay or witness the rising and setting of the sun, swing above a clean river, fish with a hand-made rod, and all these fond memories I have from my own childhood, that gave me stability throughout my life. This article sums it up quite well:

Various studies have found that urban dwellers with little access to green spaces have a higher incidence of psychological problems than people living near parks and that city dwellers who visit natural environments have lower levels of stress hormones immediately afterward than people who have not recently been outside.




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