Leaving New York Heartbroken

Trying to grasp a concept of heartbreak when there is no loss.

Did I need something tangible to bring back from my long journey?…Like a souvenir? Because I didn't get a button for my time living in New York that said ‘congrats’.

This past year has been a lot of grieving. All of last year. And I’m still, my body is, processing all of this grief and all the recent changes in my life. I’m processing all the friends I left behind. The changes in dynamics with friends, especially when I closed the door to my friendships for a year—I had to rebuild. Moving back to Indiana, living with my parents for the past six months still feels surreal. Like I’m in denial about the whole thing for everyday the last six months. Only now have I started to accept this present moment. Still grieving after all these months, yet not even sure what I am grieving about. Even though I lived in New York for seven years, I’m not really sure I built anything there.

For seven years I witnessed my life unravel and fall apart, go deep into my own pain and suffering. From this experience I left a big part of my victim consciousness that told an old narrative about myself, the parts of me that told me I couldn’t have the things I wanted because why would they. I’m not good enough. I still catch myself in these little moments, backtracking. I stop myself. No, I am worthy. That’s the summary of my lesson in New York, setting boundaries—like really firm boundaries—finding my worth, and not to mention learning the darker forces in the universe and navigating unwanted energies. Basically, these are not tangible things I can carry with me to Indiana. Instead of getting more things or getting a fancy career New York is known to have—it has EVERYTHING—I am left with NOTHING. At least nothing I can hold. But that’s also the thing I really didn’t like about living in New York. People are so attached to material objects as markers for their success, the fancy shoes, the fancy shirt, the makeup. Does that really mean anything though? It’s a layer of the facade people build in the city that I was getting so tired of seeing. After going deep into my Dark Night of the Soul, I wanted to see my outer reality as being honest. Not people playing dress up like it’s Halloween everyday, and it doesn’t have to be as dramatic. It’s as simple as wearing a shirt you think others will like or saying what you think is acceptable.

It always starts small. Doesn't it? It starts when you are a child and progressively gets worse and then you end up living in a big city that’s completely consumed by material objects fixed on to the person who claims it. I felt this seeping of non-truth all around me that felt really icky and tiring and quite frankly, boring. This epidemic was especially rampant in NYC. It’s interesting, when I first moved to New York, I was totally plugged in to this disease of false identity. Curating my look, what I said, how I walked. But all of that changed when I had an awakening in July of 2018—the button was pressed for the disintegration of Emily Nohara. Me. Well, according to my guides they showed me an image of a lifesaver being thrown to me in treacherous water. What they (my guides) told me, was that there was a time in my life where I shut down my intuitive abilities, around the passing of my grandfather; and by closing this door, I was exploring the opposite direction which was never really myself to begin with. However, moving around during my childhood, never fitting in with a group of people, I was tired. I just wanted to be “normal.” To me, normal looked like partying a lot and getting wasted, showing your midriff and titties hanging out, though I was a bit more modest since I am half-Japanese. So maybe like an inch of skin above my jeans and just the crack of my breasts were shown. Scandalous. And that’s pretty much how I lived my life while believing in the concept of stability from work and all that good stuff for a few years. It’s interesting when that lifesaver was thrown to me, I had just cracked the door into self-help books, trying to understand more of my own psychology, trying to understand why my emotional body responded to certain situations. But I never had the vocabulary of what a kundalini awakening was or this concept of twin flames until all of that happened, triggering my great awakening. Or my great rupture. For months and it would be years of me having spontaneous flashbacks to past-life memories, locking myself in my bedroom crying, keeping it all to myself when I felt absolutely horrible because I was worried people would think I was crazy. Or worse. They wouldn’t understand me.

For years in New York, I spent grieving a heartbreak from the 1500’s over a twin flame connection that left me feeling broken and betrayed. I lived the present moment of a modern day woman who felt like she was living in the midst of deep heartache from the 16th century. This was the majority of my time living in New York. Just processing this. Processing. Tremendous Energies Awakening. Processing. Not to mention again, when I opened the door to my intuition, my psychic abilities, I saw demonic entities roaming around the city, who were very aware I could see them. I once had a conjured demon, created by my witch-y apartment super, threaten me with a knife every night for several months. At first I was scared. Then after the course of a few weeks, it was getting so ridiculous, this demon could not hurt me nor was I susceptible at that point for it to latch on to me, like it was doing to my roommate. I ended up just getting really pissed off. Like HOW DARE YOU threaten me with a knife that won’t even touch me. Not even a poke. It took many years to get over this past-life heartbreak and setting firm boundaries with darker forces. (Did you know there are many witches in Bushwick?) Through this, I was able to embrace the big bright light within myself: my divine sovereignty.

For me, this was what truth began to look like for me. I know it sounds strange, the stories of past-lives and demonic entities. But that was a closer picture to reality that shaped my world. I began to realize that the way society is constructed, even our political system is not what we think—there is so much more than we are seeing. Like I’m talking about dark forces, angelic forces, and aliens. While people were out partying in the city, having drinks, going to clubs, reading The New York Times, getting really into politics, I felt what made me happy were no longer these things (though I still really love to dance and listen to good music). I just wanted to live in truth. And most especially, I wanted genuine connections with people. Not because of who you are based on outside accolades. I just wanted to know who you are. I don’t give a damn about status. I remember the strangeness I felt being downtown, I was working at Pace gallery and I decided to attend that year’s annual holiday party at a fancy venue. In a room full of people I knew, and certain “well-known” figures in the art world, transformed when drinks were at hand, clothes were changed, and an alternate identity ensued for the consumption of others. Isn’t interesting that we forgo ourselves, our hearts, for the sake of being liked and admired? I didn’t know how to interact. So I didn’t. I just watched. It was interesting. And strange to see people in their world—how they saw themselves. While completely sober, I witnessed what felt more real to me: people acting silly when they thought they looked cool. You get what I mean?

Maybe that’s why over the last few years I have taken solace in New Mexico, away from big crowds and the noise. The people I was with were exploring the same thing I was interested in, with nonchalance or goals of overcoming the masses (though there are plenty of antagonists who are trying to fight the masses of overconsumption in middle of nowhere towns in the desert). By leaving New York, I am now able to live somewhere that actually makes me feel joyful, inspired and fulfilled—New Mexico. It’s something I deeply look forward to. So why then am I grieving? Did I need something tangible to bring back from my long journey? Am I being a hypocritical former New Yorker who needs things to make life more meaningful, more real? Like a souvenir? Because I didn't get a button for my time living in New York that said ‘congrats’. Or a certificate of completion of the third dimensional consciousness and you are now entering the fifth dimension. Yay. No. No. None of that. I only have my heart’s response for a heartbreak over no loss, but so much to have gained from this experience.

Yet the heart has no logic. And I still feel heartbroken.