“I wouldn't trade it for the world:” Living in NYC During COVID-19
Estefi working from her apartment in Kips Bay, Manhattan.
Estefi Herrera is a high-achieving enneagram 3 and proud Venezuelan who is not afraid to put in the hard work to make her dreams a reality— and that’s exactly what she did after college graduation. On February 27th, she kissed her family of six goodbye and flew to New York City with four suitcases and a dream job at Fullscreen, a social media content agency. Trading rural Georgia for the concrete jungle, she found herself living the life most 22-year-olds drool over.
This is Estefi’s story of how she found herself living alone in a sea of over eight million New Yorkers, in the heart of the United States’ COVID-19 outbreak.
The beginning.
Estefi moved into an apartment she had never even seen before, located in Kips Bay, Manhattan. On March 3rd, she started her job at an office just fifteen minutes away by foot.
“Everything was good. Totally good. Then towards the end of the week, people were starting to like, not get on the subway. Then, the weekend goes by and things were just getting weird.”
When Estefi returned to work on Monday, March 9th, she noticed fewer people in the office. “They were like, you know, if you feel more comfortable working from home, you can. And my boss told me to take my computer home just in case we work from home.”
Sure enough, on Tuesday, March 10th, just a week after Estefi started her new job, she was ordered to stay at home. “And we haven't been back since. We thought it was going to be about a week at first. It still seemed like we were just taking the proper precautions. It still wasn't real.”
Sometime the following week, an emergency alert from the State of New York, similar to an amber alert, lit up her phone. And that’s when it hit; The second sign that made her realize things were getting serious was the closure of the elementary school across the street from her apartment.
“I'm not in this area, but in a lot of public school areas, it's very low income. So it's a very big decision for the state to call school off. And that's when I think I really was like, okay, this is real. This is the real deal.”
Estefi lives between 2nd and 3rd avenue, and on 1st avenue, there are three hospitals: a children's hospital, a regular hospital and a Veterans Affairs hospital.
“You live by a hospital, it's precedented that you're going to constantly be hearing sirens. But the fact that I hear sirens more often than I get text messages is a little alarming. And the first day that we did the clapping at 7pm I was like, oh, this is cute. And then the second day, I actually stood on my fire escape and I looked to my right. I could see the hospital and it really hit me, that I was so close to a reality that I had been living so far from. And that's when like I realized this clapping isn't just like symbolic, like, they can hear me from here— they truly, if I am banging on a pan, and they're doing shift change, they can hear me. And I just got full body chills, and I remember crying and calling my mom because I was like, this is just insane. At first, Italy, China— all these places seemed so far away. And now I have to avoid the news because I see that there are cooler trucks full of dead bodies a block away.”
Estefi on top of the Facebook building in SoHo, Manhattan.
Adjusting into her “new normal.”
“I wake up every morning and I just thank God that I'm alive.” That’s how Estefi starts her day off, along with sending up a prayer for anyone who may be taking their last breath. Gratitude is an essential practice that’s helped her adjust into her new normal, and so is her daily routine.
“I've never been a routine person. I’ve never kept an agenda. When there's no end in sight, that doesn't work. You can't watch Sex in the City for six hours, like you cannot. That's not healthy. And so as of two weeks ago, I have very strict routine.”
Now, Estefi starts her day with a cup of coffee and gets to work. When six o’clock hits, she shuts off her computer and hops on Zoom to work out with her friends. At seven o’clock sharp, she goes out onto the fire escape and waves to the little man with the “beautiful white hair” on the rooftop banging on his green bucket with a spoon. Estefi joins the applause by clapping. She’ll hear a stranger yell, “I love New York,” and one time, she heard Elsa’s call from Frozen Two. And of course, someone answered back. Then she showers, eats dinner, and takes care of herself by FaceTiming a friend, journaling, reading her Bible, or simply watching TV. Sometimes, all she can manage is a good, hard cry.
“It's so important for your mental health to cry it out. You have to tread this fine line, where you can't pretend this isn't happening. You can't block it all out, because that's ignorance and you need to be aware of your surroundings. On the other hand, I can't have the news on every second of the day. I can't pretend that I have the perfect grasp on all this, like today has been a much better day. Last Saturday— I'm gonna be 100% transparent with you— I slept all day because I was low key, you know, depressed, and that's a word that I use very lightly.”
Waiting in line for Trader Joe’s.
Breaking the silence with humanity.
On Saturday, April 3rd, Estefi left her apartment for the first time in three weeks. Her destination? Trader Joe’s. She told herself, “You want avocados because avocados make you happy. And if you have the means to go and stand in line at Trader Joe's for half an hour to get some avocados, why not? So many people see that as a blessing— to be able to go to the store, and I'm seeing it as a problem.”
And so, off she went, standing in a 90-minute line, six feet apart from everyone else. What Estefi wasn’t prepared for, however, was the overwhelming sense of emotional connection she felt with everyone else waiting in line with her.
“You go past that human level, and it's like souls, and it's one of the first times that everyone's on the same understanding, to some degree, of what's going on. You have differences— people have different religious beliefs, political beliefs, come from different cultures, backgrounds, but when you come to something of this magnitude, that’s solid ground that everyone is standing on. So, it's almost like you have a connection with every single person that you're surrounded with, which sounds so weird, but it was such a cool experience.”
One of the other most profound experiences, Estefi explains, is seeing which people have chosen to reach out to her, knowing she had just moved to New York.
“I had my 11th grade AP English teacher reach out to me on Facebook. Some of my closest friends haven't reached out, you know, and so it's very interesting to see— not that I'm expecting anybody to reach out. But, especially when you're alone, to have those random moments of your 11th grade AP English teacher being like, hey Estefi, just wanted to check in on you and let you know that we've been praying for you. Or yesterday, my godmother sent me a text and she's in a completely different country, but she wanted to make sure that I was okay. That's what reminds me that I'm not alone. Because yes, physically, I'm alone. But I've never felt truly, truly alone, because there's constantly people telling me you know, I'm praying for you, and I'm a firm believer in the power of prayer. I don't go to bed at night feeling alone. I said I was scared of silence, but when I go to bed and it's quiet, I'm not scared because I know, at the end of the day, that there are other people thinking of me.”
Advice and an ending.
I asked Estefi what advice she would give to those in situations similar to her own, and this is how she replied.
“I would say love yourself, because you come to learn a lot about yourself. And I know that sounds so cliche, but just love yourself. Instead of hating on yourself or being sick of being with yourself, just try to be at peace with yourself.
Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid to reach out to people. Don't be afraid to put yourself out there. Don't be afraid to be vulnerable. Don't be afraid of tomorrow.” Estefi and her dad share a favorite song— “Live Like You’re Dying” by Kris Allen. The whole premise of the lyrics is to ask yourself: if something were to happen tomorrow, would you be satisfied with your actions of today? Or would you be full of regret?
Lastly, Estefi says to “remember, you're not alone, because there's always someone who's living a very similar life as you. There's always someone that you least expect that's thinking of you. And so just remembering that, even in the toughest times, you're not alone.”
She cautions us all not to forget— the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful, and to stay empathetic and aware of the lessons each one of us are learning.
“My biggest hope is that, after all of this, there's still some understanding of what happened. There's still some mourning for everyone who was lost, but also taking that mourn and using it to motivate us to change our lives, to change the way we think, to change the way we live just slightly, to be a little bit more appreciative of the world around us, because this is wild. I think it's something that we didn't know we could learn a lesson from, but we definitely can. There's not a single person on planet earth that is not having some sort of impact by this, whether it be economic, physical, or emotional. That's what I keep reminding myself. And so, being conscious of the impact this is having on everyone else, and understanding that impact on yourself, while learning to deal with it is the biggest thing.”
What I love most about Estefi, is that despite this crazy series of catastrophic events during one of the most thrilling seasons of her life, Estefi still acknowledges that she’s living out her dream.
“I always knew that what I was doing was a big deal. A lot of people dream of being able to move to a big city. For me, the idea of New York was so far fetched, and then everything kind of aligned, and I was here. And right now, today— April 14, I'm living out my dream, regardless of the fact that I'm not living out what I've always wanted to live out. I think it'll just make those summer or fall or winter days that much sweeter, and I think there will be a much bigger appreciation for the city and for our lives.”
When all this is over, Estefi’s first wish is simple. It involves a book, a bench, and her favorite place in the city: Union Square Park.
“Some people told me that I moved to New York at the worst possible time. And to that, I say no. I didn't. I moved at the perfect time for me and for what God wanted in my life. This is exactly what needed to happen, because I'm growing as an individual. If you told me that I could backtrack a month ago and buy a plane ticket home, I wouldn't. To be able to experience all of this, I wouldn't trade it for the world.”
Hey you, thanks for reading. Every story is important. Want to share yours? Email me at olivia.frances.biz@gmail.com and let’s write it together.