(Originally published March 2014)

This was a dark winter. For both the seasoned and unseasoned New Yorker alike.

"Winter is Coming" was no joke.

If only we had listened and been prepared.

With the Christmas lights gone and glitter from the new year swept away, New York City plunged into a cold, dark winter.

And took me with it.

As one friend put it, "...the second week in January came and punched everyone in the face. It knocked us all out, took us all down..."

The City, which had so inspired and fascinated me 8 months prior - with such wonder and anticipation to write this - was the same city which I grew to despise, and even resent, from the moment I landed in the middle of a snow storm on January 2nd. Into the unending winter.

2014, it seemed, was not the year I had hoped it would be. The light in me began to slowly fade and I began to believe that Aslan would never come, that the white witch would keep the city in her grasp forever. I had eaten the Turkish Delight she offered and resigned myself to unrestful, cold nights; forced friendliness and emptiness. I attempted to find a glimpse of hope and fun and forgetfulness - the way many (of us weak humans) do when faced with such situations - in the emptiness of late nights at bars and cocktails.

I bought vitamins - Vitamin D supplements, specifically - anything to bring a little sunshine in my life.

The despair grew worse.

Life felt like too much. Get up in the morning? No thanks. Do the dishes? You might as well make me run a marathon. Every task felt like moving a mountain. Many outside factors contributed, things that shake your stability and crack the foundations you feel you had, falsely, made. Which didn't help. But the truth remained, very little made me truly happy. Made me truly feel like me. The joy in my life had been sapped and sapped so quickly.

The breaking point came in the form of peanut butter and banana toast. I was in the middle of making - possibly the best snack/meal ever known to man - when, out of nowhere, on my own, I broke down. Crying. Finally realizing that, despite the deliciousness before me, despite all the other amazing things happening in my life, I was deeply sad. Why? Life is, for me, technically going so, so well at the moment. I didn't understand. I don't understand. Why don't I feel like me?

But even in laughter the heart may ache.

However, the Ides of March have come and gone. The weather remains cold, but the sun is shining again and springs pushes through on the odd occasion to give us, if only a glimpse, of hope. Aslan has returned after all.

While in my darkest of places I've found the best of friends. I've finally realized that New York carries within it, not only; unique, crazy, strong willed and creative individuals, but also people whom I can call friend - apparently I hadn't left them all behind in London.

It took me 9 months to show my weaknesses, to hope for acceptance in this crowd of exceptional, but when I broke down and could not longer stand on my own - they held me up. Through my whining and tears, through my cruel words about this City, they kept bringing in light. Showing me the good and the great so that I could handle, in equal measure, the bad.

And so, thanks to lots of prayer and all of these friends, today I began exploring again. Singing joy into every step (literally, singing). I'm still trying to renew my faith in this City and love it again, I'm not quite there yet. But today was a good day. A God day. A first step.

I know I'm not through with New York City yet as there are plenty of stories still to come. And so many anecdotes still to tell - I have a (legitimately) crazy landlady - Warning: this blog may soon become "The Landlady Diaries". But they are stories nonetheless, stories of life in this mad town. Because, you have to be slightly crazy to live in New York City.

But 8 million of us do it, everyday.