changing cities, changing perspectives: letting go of external validation
Austin, TX
There’s something about moving cities that naturally invites a reset; of routines, of relationships, and even of self-identity. I’ve lived in Connecticut, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut again, and now Austin. Each time I’ve packed up and started again somewhere new, it’s felt like holding a mirror up to myself and asking, Who am I? Where will I fit into this city? What will I accomplish? How will I change?
After moving 1,800 miles away, my farthest move yet, I thought I would really change. Picture the vision in mind: take long walks on the trail, be on a boat every weekend, get in amazing shape, teach yoga at the best studio in the city, and basically be all sunshine and rainbows, all the time.
Well, not to spoil the ending, but, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.
And to be real, going into it, I did know it would be hard. I was willing to go through the difficult, the lonely, the overwhelming moments that would come with such a big transition. And they came. And It was hard. It was lonely. It was overwhelming… But it was worth it. I knew it would be.
What surprised me most wasn’t the new person I’ve become (yes, I’ve changed — but really, I’m still just the same old me). What caught me off guard was what I missed the most. Not my favorite coffee shop (shoutout Kneads), not the ocean, not even my people.
What’s left the biggest hole is the feedback loop. The knowing glances, the compliments, the reassuring nods that once told me:
You’re impressive.
You’re enough.
You’re loved.
Your success is measurable. It’s quantitative.
You’re doing it right.
It’s startling how much I relied on those things, subtle or loud, to calibrate my sense of self. A certain accomplishment. A job title. A well-delivered yoga class. Even just walking into a room where people knew me. All those little cues told me I mattered. That I was seen. That I was “good.”
And now, in a new place with fewer familiar mirrors, I’ve been forced to look inward. I’ve started to realize how often I’ve measured myself by the reflections of others, and not by my own values.
I’ve realized that this move wasn’t just about seeking something new. Yes, I had a burning desire to clear my own path, to take a leap while I had the chance. But perhaps just as much so, it was about escaping something old.
I’ve asked myself a lot: was I running away or running toward? The truth is, probably both.
I wanted more space, more sun, more freedom. But, I also wanted distance from the pressure, the pace, the version of myself that had become too tied to achievement, to image, to proving something. Maybe I thought that if I got far enough away, I could outrun the parts of me I hadn’t yet made peace with. But distance doesn’t dissolve your inner world. It just gives you a different backdrop and climate to face it against.
It’s been uncomfortable. But it’s also been liberating.
I’m learning to sit with the quiet. To ask myself, Did I enjoy that? Did I show up how I wanted to? Am I proud of how I moved through the day?
And then… to let my answers be enough. Not the praise. Not the compliments. Not the jealousy.
Maybe that’s the real gift of change: Not just new, favorite coffeeshops, or new friends (although these are definitely blessings), but the invitation to rewrite the story of who you are, and to change the way in which you measure yourself. In laughter, in smiles, in deep breaths. To realize that home is not a place, it’s not a city, it’s not even another person. It’s the Self. Not the Self I will become when I accomplish, move to, finally achieve, etc… It’s the Self just as I am.
I am always home.