Ten years ago today I finished packing up my car, left New York, and never looked back. The road trip along the way and subsequent move to San Diego changed my life in ways I hoped for, and ways I never expected. A lot of people told me “No.” I’d had a recent heartbreak and a lot of weird trauma around the end of that relationship, they thought I was running away. They said I shouldn’t go alone. They said I’d regret it. I 100% believe that leaving NY saved my life. I learned to be alone. I learned to love the outdoors. I learned to make new friends. I learned how to love and trust deeper. Maybe most importantly: I learned that I was capable of doing hard things. More than that: I learned that I *enjoy* doing hard things. I gave a lot up. So many of my favorite people live far away. I’ve missed my nieces and little sister growing up, and I know my relationships with them are not what they might have been if I stayed closer. There are people who used to be integral to my life, who haven’t stayed in touch or who I dropped the ball on maintaining contact with. So many people that I miss. But there’s also a quality to the happiness I’ve felt since moving west that I never felt in NY. I can breathe out here. I’m a fan of big changes. I’m a fan of doing the things that scare you. I’m a fan of leaping off the ledge in moments when you feel like you’re going to fall. I’ve since made a lot of other big changes that people generally tell me I shouldn’t do. Every one of them has been pivotal to my life, and every one I look at I know that the decision to move across the country enabled me to follow through with the next big change. I’m really grateful to be where I am now (literally and figuratively), and feeling hopeful for the next ten years.
