hardest decision I ever made

In the spring of 2001, I had my first and only panic attack. I don’t remember a lot of details other than uncontrollable crying (the really ugly kind) and gasping for every breath as if it were my last. I was 24 at the time – barely out of college – and I’d already survived a lot of early 20’s angst, so what triggered the attack was pretty tame by comparison: I thought my boyfriend was on a short list for a promotion, resulting in an imminent move to Charlotte, North Carolina.That’s it.Not usually the stuff that results in convulsions on the floor. Still, it wasn’t the idea of him leaving that caused my whole body to revolt - it was the idea of going with him. That’s because moving to Charlotte meant I wouldn’t be moving to New York City where I had two roommates and a ridiculously overpriced apartment waiting. It meant sacrificing my dreams and taking a path that was “safe,” but could very well prove unfulfilling down the road.The idea of giving up on the life I’d always wanted before it even got started gnawed at meconstantly. In my mind, I had to make a choice between ambition and love – and there was no compromise. Eventually, I would have to make a decision and, for months, the answer wasn’t clear.Then on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, I happened to be in a small town just below Shanksville, Pennsylvania and, as the whole world was collapsing around me, the only thing I wanted was to feel safe and hug the people I loved.Nothing else mattered.After that, I never moved to New York but I did return six years later for my best friend’s wedding. She was the one who had the apartment that was supposed to be mine. The one who went on to have a million only-in-Manhattan adventures that we were supposed to share. Tragically, she was also the one who lost her boyfriend when the towers fell.Despite the fact that I was in town for a celebration of new beginnings, I went to Ground Zero to pay my respects to the past. As I got closer to what – all those years later –