Sometimes I blame NYC for all my problems. There is truth to the idea that a city itself is a living being. A character unto itself. The composite all of its inhabitants, environmental features, and history. Different places and people draw out different sides and versions of yourself. For me, it has been a drinking city. A workaholic city and a drinking city. Time and funds are quickly drained with the carousing, socializing, rents, and the constant temptation to do and sample everything. You can make millions and still feel poor.

I went through a 60-day period without drinking once, and it was amazing. I had to actually face things. There was distinct continuity of time. I had a lot of time. I felt good in the morning. One drawback – honestly, it was a bit too restrictive to never be able to go out and have a single drink with someone. What else do you do socially in NYC?! I’m joking, but I’m also serious.

I lived uptown then, so it was much easier. I ran, did yoga, and chilled at home. I kept it pretty simple.

This time it’s going to be harder. Inebriation is a lot of fun too. But I’ve been back in NYC five nights, and I’ve had at least five drinks every night. Many of those nights ended hazily. One night involved someone sexually assaulting me. Another night ended with me feeling a lot of resentment. Am I trying to erase myself?

Last night ended with me in tears gulping extremely expensive scotch from the bottle at an office reception desk at midnight. A 23-year-old girl petted my hair and arm to comfort me and shared some of her views and experiences on life and herself. It was all so sad and true and wise. And somehow, she is also extremely joyful. A fighter.

Rewind a bit. I am at a happy hour goodbye party for a friend (my 11-year-relationship ex’s sister) who works at my other friend’s startup. Drinks. Missed my 8pm dinner. Didn’t even call the restaurant. So rude. Shuffleboard (is that what I was playing?).

An argument breaks out regarding payment of 6 quarters for the shuffleboard. One of the patrons is insisting that we pay. My friend gets extremely aggressive and refuses. Rageful. I try to butt in myself, and everyone is getting physical at this point. People wedging themselves in between people to separate them, and another person filing in to be the next wedge and say their piece.

Eventually, I hear that my friend jumped into the subway car and ran away saying nothing. The happy hour honoree and my dear friend is pissed and going home.

It’s now just myself and the 23-year-old unsure of what to do exactly. We have a drink at the bar. She is absolutely gorgeous (stunning!), so every guy is ogling her. This prompts us to leave. We go back to the office to snack and have some more drinks. I tried calling a few people, including my best friend who vanished mysteriously into the subway. No answers all around.

Then my phone rings. Aha, my best friend! Yes, he drinks WAY too much and has crossed the line many times, but we usually recover from it. And I have forgiven him and looked past many pretty bad incidents. He calmly informs me that I had taken the wrong side in the bar fight (which is not true!) and that he is putting the things I’ve stowed at his place into two bags and leaving them in his lobby. (Given that I’m without a real home at the moment, I had left some things in his closet.) He no longer wants to be friends and believes we should part ways. This is not the first time this has happened. The drunken friendship-ending. Once, we were on vacation in Las Vegas, and I had taken several (brief) work calls. While drunk, this drove him into a fury, and he even booked a flight back (which he canceled after I apologized while weeping and begged him to stay). Too much drama. Obviously, he is a wonderful person when he is sober. Otherwise, he would not be my friend.

However, this time it is too much, or maybe I’m different. I cannot keep tolerating this kind of pain, the feeling of being thrown away like trash. I sobbed while the 23-year-old co-worker of my best friend petted me and encouraged me to drink more. With a big heart, she said I could stay with her until September. She was staying at her aunt’s place in the West Village, right by me.

The reason I came back to NYC was for my friends, especially my best friend, who really needs me I think. I don’t know how this will play out, but I don’t need abusive or negative friendships. No one does. You can’t hold people accountable for what they do when they are drunk to some extent. But you can hold them accountable for drinking to extents where they habitually do harm to others.

I am going to try to create a new New York for myself while I am here. I am really going to try sobriety. I am going to explore another part of the NYC mosaic, one that doesn’t involve happy hours. I believe it exists. No more blaming the city.

I’m a bit worn out from nurturing others so much, and I really think I need to nurture myself.