So I'm Leaving New York

Seventy-nine days after packing up my things, trekking across the Appalachian Mountains, and settling in Manhattan’s Upper West Side, I’m turning around and reversing the process.

When I took the job that would ultimately bring me here, I spoke with absolute confidence that New York City wasn’t just some place I thought I wanted to be. It was the place I needed to be. However, I’ve come to find that living here makes me absolutely miserable. How miserable? has been hard to universally impress upon people, so you’ll have to take my word for it when I say this is the saddest I’ve ever been.

It’s been a lengthy journey of self-reflection as to how I could have made such a catastrophic miscalculation. Divulging every aspect would be difficult; partly because of how personal it is and partly because it’s kind of a long story. But I’m sure now that this isn’t the right place for me. Hours of advice from family, friends, and professionals made me realize that the value of new roots planted here aren’t worth the cost when compared to cultivating the ones I have deeper, elsewhere.

That said, I feel the need to make one thing absolutely clear: don’t feel too bad for me. Yeah it sucks, but I truly have no regrets about the move to New York. I believed I needed to be here, so without coming I couldn’t have known the truth. I am incredibly grateful to have had the chance to get this life choice so wrong and learn something so valuable from it.

Finally, What’s next? Everyone’s asked me this, and, honestly, you know about as much as I do. I have no real long-term plan at this point. I’m going home, I’m taking a break, and I’ll figure it out from there.