Five Years Later

Five years ago, Matt and I arrived in Seattle. Sometimes, I still can't believe we did it.

Over the years, I've had a few people ask me what it was like to pick up and leave my home of two decades. What was it like to move across the country with no jobs lined up? What advice could I give someone thinking of doing the same?

Our arrival in Seattle: August 14, 2020.

I'm not sure I have advice, and 2025 is a very different animal than 2020, but on the 5-year anniversary of our move, I'd like to reflect a little on one of the biggest (and one of the best) decisions of my life.

The Hard Stuff

Logistics

Matt and I were in our mid-30s when we moved, and we'd spent over ten years in SW Florida. So of course, the hardest part of the move was making the decision to do it, and tackling all the logistics. I was scared to tell my principal I was leaving; I was uncertain about how to sell our house and where to live in the span of time between selling and moving.

It didn't help that we did this during the beginning of covid. We didn't know how the market would react, and open houses were anxiety-inducing because it meant having people walk through our house when we still didn't know how infectious covid was. 

We also had to find a place to live in Seattle, sight-unseen. Luckily Scott and Robby were already in Seattle by May, so they were able to scope out places in-person for us and we got really lucky finding a studio for rent on Craig's List.

I think my advice about all this stuff is just to take your time and do some research. Honestly, a lot of things we tackle for the first time as adults are scary and nebulous, but you sort of flounder your way through and come out the other side. You live and you learn.

When it comes to finally making the decision, I think that comes down to reasons. Neither of us liked living in Florida for many reasons and we'd fallen in love with Seattle in 2018. The reasons to stay simply didn't hold weight against the reasons to leave. We were scared, but we were ready for something new.

The unknown/job insecurity

I'm an anxious person, so not having jobs lined up (and only a vague idea of what we wanted to do other than "something different") was another big hurdle. Our ability to get through the unknown came down to money. We'd sold our house and had money in the bank from the sale; we set up a strict budget that gave us a year to find jobs. 

Luckily hiking is free!

Seattle is an expensive city, and it's only gotten worse, but having a very clear view of what we could afford and how long we could last made some of the unknown more concrete. Having a plan calmed my anxiety, and by February 2021 I had a job and Matt was on his way to becoming a firefighter. 

If we'd gotten close to the year mark, I'm not sure what we would have done, but we were lucky and things worked out.

Starting over

You can definitely attribute some of the difficulty of putting down roots and feeling like I belonged in my new city to covid. Summer 2020 was really the height of the pandemic in some ways, and while Scott and Robby were out here, we didn't know anyone else, and it was hard to meet people. Most adults meet new people through work, but we didn't have jobs yet. I wasn't lonely at first, but a few months in I began to miss having friends.

Bestie <3 

On top of that, covid did a number on my mental health, and my social anxiety was worse than it had ever been. I was scared to do even small things, like run down our street. Seattle is absolutely lousy with running clubs, but I was too scared to actually show up for any of them.

In June 2021, I decided to start therapy. My first session was in July, and I can absolutely credit therapy with getting me to where I am now—excited and open to doing new things and meeting new people. Through therapy, I found the courage to join a running club (where I met my steadfast running buddy and first Seattle friend), begin writing again, and change jobs.

I joined a Facebook group meant for women looking for friends in Seattle and even joined Bumble BFF. While I laughed a little at creating a "dating" profile to make friends, this paid off! My life here now feels robust, filled with hobbies, friends, and work.

So my advice for this part, which is really the biggest part of successfully uprooting your life and moving somewhere new, is to be patient and seek help. Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is a new life in a new city. Be willing to put yourself out there and take everything one day at a time.

The Good Stuff

Starting over

Of course "starting over" is part of the hard stuff, but it's also part of the good stuff. There is real freedom in starting from scratch. When we moved, we downsized to a place ¼ the size of our Florida home. We got rid of nearly everything. I had no idea how much stuff we had until we had to get rid of it, and man, it felt good.

All that remained of my book collection after The Purge.

With that stuff, we also left behind old habits and expectations. Being in a new place and losing your equilibrium forces you to reset your brain, and I kind of discovered there was a person inside me who'd just been waiting to come out. My old routines and schedules were completely wiped out, and that meant I had to rediscover my priorities. 

I got the beautiful gift of being able to rebuild my life.

Owning my choices

For so much of my life, I didn't feel like I had a lot of agency. I lived in Florida because my family moved there when I was 13. I became a teacher because I liked reading and I didn't know what else to do. I took the job at my school because I graduated during the 2008 recession and it was the first offer I got; I didn't choose it. Accepting that job meant moving to a city I otherwise probably wouldn't have moved to. And I didn't realize it until after I'd left, but working with kids and on the school calendar trapped me in a sort of arrested development where I never really "left" school. I had spent my entire life in classrooms. (When I finally adjusted to feeling like January was truly the "new year", that was a big moment!) In some ways, I didn't feel like a real adult until we moved.

Moving to Seattle was the first time I'd chosen where I wanted to live. Being so far from family meant no one could gift us hand-me-down furniture, so we decorated our place with things we picked out. Starting a new career meant I could choose from any field I wanted. Leaving education meant actually having vacation time, and the money to go on vacation.

Life in Florida had felt stale for awhile. We were in a routine and it was easy but uninspiring. In some ways, I feel like my life was on hold there, and making the choice to move kickstarted it into gear again.

Belonging

This is the crux of it: I didn't feel I belonged in Florida. If I'd had this blog in 1999—it would have been a Livejournal then—it would have chronicled the fight I put up to avoid that move. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had a major bout of culture shock my first year or two there, and although I eventually got used to it, I never got to the point where I could comfortably call myself a Floridian.

I'm not going to drag my Florida experience. I had some amazing moments there, and I miss being able to easily see so many of the people who make my life whole. But this is my point: in 2018, when I got off the plane in Seattle and stepped out of the airport, I was overcome with a sense of belonging I hadn't experienced in years. I felt anchored. Sure.

I've felt that way in two other places: Beachwood, Ohio and Edinburgh, Scotland.

The first appearance of Seattle-Ali.

When people ask me about moving across the country, I sometimes want to tell them the move was incidental. A friend once told me she was considering a big move, and I asked her, where to? She said she didn't know, she just wanted to experience it. But here's the thing: for me, it wasn't about moving, it was about getting here. Being here. Living here. 

I'm not sure Matt and I would have left Florida if we hadn't found the place we truly felt we belonged.

Advice and closure

So, my advice for those trying to find the courage to make a big move like this is kind of useless, I think. But I'll try my best.

First, find the place that pulls on the magnet in your heart.

Then, get your ducks in a row. Save up. Sell things. Begin to release the ties that bind you to your current place. (For me, that looked like donating over 200 books I'd collected over the years.) Begin the hunt for a new job. Spruce up your resume. (I worked with a consultant who specializes in helping teachers leave teaching. Totally worth it.)

Next, move. Commit to building a life in the place you cannot live without. Find hobby clubs. Get into a new routine...or don't. Make your new space a home. Become familiar with local spots. Find a job. Be ruthlessly determined to keep going even if there are setbacks. Be willing to be patient and give it time.

Finally, thrive. Enjoy the life you built for yourself, the life you thoroughly chose. And if in a few years it's not working out, you'll be so much more courageous for having done it once, that the thought of doing it again will hardly scare you. The move is the hardest, and from then on...everything else is just another adventure.

Ali