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Too often, we place limitations on the logistics of what’s in our reach and forget to expand our limits of thinking that happiness and fulfillment do not always appear in our life incidentally.

If you ask ChatGPT, summertime in NYC feels like…

a kaleidoscope of moments, a mosaic of stories, where the city's energy intertwines with the boundless potential of a sunlit day, igniting a fire of possibility that burns bright until the stars take their place in the urban night sky.

But, when the sweat rolls down your neck and is splattered on your face like a sheet of bubble wrap, as you tread down the streets, just to walk up to a line of people who are also joining you to view the same apartment that you flagged on StreetEasy, NYC ends up feeling like the road that should be less traveled. 

Unfortunately, I kicked off this summer to take on that dreaded task. From creating a budget, to filtering through desired neighborhoods, to pinning down a list of my must-have amenities, I was determined to find a bigger and better space, a space that would fulfill me.  

To no avail, I did not find an apartment and the overwhelming feeling of defeat led me to the decision to defer my hunt for another year. After days of self pity, I retired my feelings of melancholy and finally swallowed the grim reality that this studio apartment would continue to be a part of my journey for my immediate future. I knew the only way to see the light in my temporary place of darkness was to revitalize my space. I figured this new sense of energy, albeit temporary or not, had to be put to use. And so, it was time to build a new home.

I started scouring the internet for images of home decor to remodel my apartment. I allowed myself to gawk at multi-million dollar homes; some in New York, some in LA, and some even overseas. I looked for massive areas with surrounding plants. I targeted homes that sat in places where the sun beamed down their ceilings. I filtered for places that were near a pond, swimming pool, or some body of water.

I took each pinned image and curated a list of non-negotiable amenities for my future home. So far, my notes were piled with things like outdoor space, an extra room for an office, access to a wellness or fitness space, a spa-like bathroom, a chef’s kitchen, massive storage space and to top it off, a beautiful view. 

Lost in the vault of my imagination, I put aside practicalities – money for a down payment, credit, and lending resources. Distracted by frivolous excitement, I shared my aspirations with some friends and family. Most of them thought I was tapping into my lofty libra thoughts and false sense of reality, per usual. They tried to bring me down to reality and let me know that what I was searching for was out of reach and nonsensical.

Though, I wasn’t deterred. What they didn’t realize was that my dream house was not merely a physical manifestation of where I wanted to live, but it truly reflected the blueprint of the life that I was building for my own fulfillment. 

While I was well aware that the results returned were economically out of my reach, I realized that regardless, I could curate the essence of what I was searching for: a place of retreat. And this home was and is my retreat. It didn’t have to be a replica of the picturesque homes I had pinned on my mood board. All it needed was to feel like my mood board. 

As I continued my search, I was even more motivated by the realization that my dreams and aspirations were not meant to be understood by every single person. In fact the only person who would genuinely understand such a sky-scraping dream would be me. 

I think too often, we place limitations on the logistics of what’s in our reach and forget to expand our limits of thinking that happiness and fulfillment do not always appear in our life incidentally. You determine what fulfills you and get to decide to move towards such fulfillment. When you pick and choose what events and components make up a desirable life specific to you, you set up the blueprint to how you want to navigate life. And, my dream house is just one element in my blueprint of how I want to navigate life. 

For now, while I stay in my studio, my outdoor space are my stoop steps and occasionally NYC parks. I’ll continue to fill my house with plants because they center me. My kitchen isn’t big at all, but that doesn’t stop me from creating a room to nourish myself. In fact, my mood board led me to add my own twist on a chef’s kitchen, studio-style. I even organized all my kitchen drawers, added a breakfast bar that included my toaster and of course, a coffee station.

Some people may read this and pity me, but it’s not meant to be deplorable fantasy.  Every morning, as I sip my coffee, I continue to build out my house, my space, my community. I choose to live a life curated for and by me.