I like to claim I am in the stage of my life called "Carrie Bradshaw."

For those of you who don’t know, Carrie Bradshaw is a writer with a sex column in the New York paper. She is a made up character in the cult hit "Sex and the City," which is inspired by a series of real columns by Candace Bushnell. Carrie lives in Manhattan, loves shoe shopping, is a hopeful romantic, is fashionable, and overall explores the lines between sex and love. The reason I’ve named my current stage of life after her is because of her vibrancy. In the entirety of the series, she makes mistakes and falls for the wrong guys, but in the end she always has herself and her three best friends, AKA her soulmates.

I'm at the stage of my life where shoes and everything else in my closet are a literal representation of me, to a higher degree. I like to think I have moved from season one to season four or five Carrie. Being in New York over spring break, I revisited the earlier Carrie, the girl I was before I started becoming a woman.

It was frustrating at times. I noticed myself experience a similar dependence on people I'd had in years prior, and over the past six months that I had worked to break.

The person who initially stepped off the plane was my younger Carrie. She was nervous and didn’t really know anyone, but she had a whole lot of desire. She carried a list in her phone of all the things she wanted to do. She ignored it for the first day and a half. By the second night, the current Carrie stepped in. She reflected on the trip thus far. She knew if she wanted to get out of New York what she had only seen in movies, she’d have to get it out of herself again.

When I woke up on my second day, my mind rushed. I dragged myself out of bed, into some clothes, and out the door. Scared, I walked the streets of New York alone. I used my phone to guide me to my desired location, but the GPS service sucks in the Big Apple. I did the best I could. I walked block after block until I reached Tiffany’s. I stood across from the sacred building of the famous Audrey Hepburn film. Sparks of joy spread to my chest. I had come into myself once again. Season five Carrie had fashionably walked across the street and killed the first thing on her list.

I looked at the name on the building, took out my phone, stuffed a sandwich in my mouth, and had breakfast at Tiffany’s.

(Audrey Hepburn would be proud.)

At this point, I was truly starting to enjoy myself. I found out Wall Street guys were real. I’m not lying—they are. I met an interesting art student working for a gallery owner in Dumbo. I had a minty alcoholic drink at Ellen's Stardust Diner while the servers put on a show. The adventure never stopped, and neither did I. I walked for blocks, took the subway, and got a cab with others on the trip.

In the words of Ariana Grande: “Don’t need permission, made my decision to test my limits.”

I think New York is all about testing your limits. No one hands you anything, you work and ask for it. It is the city of possibilities, there are no grey areas when it comes to New York.

I can’t say I’d recommend New York for anyone because it’s not for everyone. New York is not for the faint of heart. What I do recommend is going on a trip and—maybe not even a trip; maybe do something you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t because you relied on someone else in order for you to do it. Go on an adventure on your own and test your limits, because it’s the only way you’ll start seeing yourself. It doesn’t have to be anything huge, just do it. You’ll be glad you did. You’d be surprised what one trip or a solo date to the movies can do.

The city pushed me outside my comfort zone. New York reminded me of who I was and how much I have left to grow. From one quick visit to Tiffany’s to the real Carrie Bradshaw’s front steps, an SNL exhibit, and much more, I learned that New York is my next destination. I know I’m not ready for it quite yet. I have to work to be at the level I need to really live there, but one day I will be there in the final stage of my Carrie Bradshaw.