Whether it’s losing weight, eating healthy, reading more, spending time with friends and family, it’s challenging to alter our habits and reassess those elements of our world which have become so comfortable that we don’t even think about them nearly as often as we should.
I believe the desire to change things about yourself stems from having an image of who we want to be that is different than who we presently are. Most of us stop trying to chase that vision of ourselves because we feel like we simply can’t be that person, no matter how hard we try. Sometimes the comfort of routine is too seductive. Sometimes society tells us that we aren’t allowed to be different than who we are expected to become. Sometimes the task at hand is tremendously challenging, or we feel like we lack the tools to finish the job… tools that the person we want to be has, but the person we are doesn’t know how to acquire.
That’s what happened to me- the warmth of comfort had set in and made it difficult for me to become the person I want to be.
Maybe comfort isn’t quite the right word here. To be more specific, I became dependent on the connections that I’d established in the 10+ years I spent in the Pacific Northwest.
My social circle was a significant part of my mental health. They were my support system, my sense of self, and the reason I continued to stay in Washington. And there’s nothing wrong with that, in-and-of-itself, but the security those ties provided me was also binding.
This dependency extended outside of my social circle and into the community. I had my barber’s number who would give me access to haircuts whenever he was available or before he opened the shop. My barber knew how I liked my hair and I blindly trusted him any time he wanted to make changes. To this day, I still don’t know the amount of hair to leave on the top of my head when I get a cut.
Even weekend outings became routine: shuffle between three different bars in one neighborhood, invite the same group of friends. Every now and then, the group will collide with another social circle of friends, but overall it was pretty predictable.
And, I thought that was all I needed. I lived to maintain that consistency, that sameness.
The city of Seattle was undergoing a dramatic transformation, which is to be expected; gentrification hits all major cities. The city that I’ve called home since my 20’s began to feel different. I welcomed the new changes since they could open up new possibilities. The problem was that the changes started to spread to nearby neighborhoods, not just downtown. Coffee shops, local restaurants, music venues, staples of the city started to be removed, often to the displeasure of locals (look up the battle over The Showbox to see what I’m talking about). Some of my friends started to move out of Seattle. The change was contagious.
Since I had less control of my environment, I started to look into what I could change within myself.
I started to explore different things to change the normalcy of what became routine. I took alternative routes on my way home. I rearranged the furniture in my home. I decided to start losing weight and began a fitness journey. I even started to look for a career change and signed up for a marketing certification course at the University of Washington. The changes expanded into how I communicate with friends. I wanted to express myself better and to know my friends on a deeper level.
I wanted to change who I was as a person and how I communicate with the world. Physically and mentally, I was feeling empowered by all these changes. I enjoyed the new knowledge I was receiving in my marketing class. I lost 17 pounds in a month, which had led me to alter my eating habits and my relationship with my body.
An immense amount of pride comes when you start changing yourself. Friends even started to join in on my fitness journey. However, I still felt like something was missing.
The majority of my family is in the southern California area, specifically L.A. It’s where I felt home was and where I had always gone to recharge my social battery during the holiday season. That, and get that much-needed sun in preparation for the long winters in Seattle.
My family was quick to point out my weight loss. They even expressed concern about my health since the prior visit, I had noticeably gained weight. Being among family and the sunny environment was a remarkable juxtaposition to the overcast, family-less life in Washington.
When I visit LA, I would do an early afternoon flight. I would land at LAX airport with the sun shining, have a family member meet me at the airport. I would be greeted by my brother or cousin and get food from my favorite restaurant- Pollo Loco. I would then get to my aunt’s home, where I’d be greeted by family members eagerly awaiting my visit — nieces, nephews, cousins, all waiting to embrace me with their hugs. And more food.
This love is present when I leave LA. I get dropped off by a van filled with family members, all talking about the future plans and wishing I would be present for other events. I’d inhale one last breath of that sun-saturated air as a hugged my family goodbye.
I’d land at SeaTac airport, get my bags and leave the airport into the cold, gray overcast Seattle is known for.
I’ll admit that the moment you step out of SeaTac and take in that crisp cold air is refreshing, but the moment I exhale, there is nothing. No one there waiting for me. I would board the light rail and head home.
I’d enter a home that hardly has any life in it despite living with five other people. I’d check my mail, go into my room, turn on the lights, turn on the TV to provide some sense of life, and lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. Depending on the time I’d land, I’d hit up friends to catch up, maybe converse with a roommate about how their holidays went. I quickly would go back to my mundane routine and flick on that autopilot switch.
I moved out and decided to be with friends rather than family when I was 18. I would only see my family for the Christmas holiday season; it was not guaranteed even then. I missed out on various birthday celebrations, births, graduations, hospital visits, and funerals. My family continued to open their homes to me despite my distance and not showing up to significant events. They even road-tripped to Washington for my college graduation.
In the winter of 2019, I told myself that I had to leave the state by the end of the summer.
I was done. I knew that I wanted to be closer to the warmth and love I feel whenever I’m in L.A. It was time to return to my family. To create deeper connections with them. To be closer to their love and support. To be part of the memories instead of hearing about the stories during Christmas time. I felt that moving into a new environment would be the best thing for me to grow. More importantly, I just wanted to be happy.
Here I am, entering my 4th month in this new-but-old city, and I’m filled with both joy and loss. There’s a bit of a transitional period when you are living in a new area. Everyone has been telling me that it took them two years to get properly situated here. There is a lot one doesn’t consider when moving to a new place. There’s finding a mechanic, finding a barber, finding the grocery store that sells everything you eat (I miss Tillumuck yogurt), and finding places to walk or run.
And obviously, finding friends.
Sadly, All of this is a bit difficult with a global pandemic. I can’t go to bars and converse with strangers, or sign up for in-person classes. Even going to a park feels scary. On top of all this, L.A. is massive compared to Seattle. L.A. is filled with neighborhoods that are, individually, the size of Seattle. It’s a bit overwhelming.
The pandemic has put a pause on many social functions, but it led me to focus on myself.
Reestablishing myself outside of my friends.
Rediscovering myself in a new environment.
Reconnecting with my family.
Rethinking how I connect with my friends back in Seattle.
I’ll be honest with you — it sucks. I miss my friends, who were a huge part of my upbringing. Some of them I’ve known since high school. My support system, emotionally and professionally, is no longer within arm's length.
Before, all I had to do was knock on my roommate’s door, go over to a friend’s home, hit up a bar, or just bug friends at work.
Now, I call or text and hope that they are available. The first month I felt that I was continually calling friends. I was in a transitional period at that point, and to some extent, I still am.
After the 3rd week, I knew that my calling or texting did not make it easier for me to settle in and it was a distraction from what I should be doing: creating a life here.
It’s both sad and empowering. My resolve in deciding to make the move — and the change — has not withered. The hustle and bustle of the massive city encourages me to shake up any discomfort. The various highways are overwhelming, but they fuel curiosity and exploration. The hikes no longer have a lake or waterfall view like they did in Washington, but they make me appreciate a different terrain.
Sure, I wish I can show my friends these sights. I wish I can explore the bars and restaurants with them, but they have their lives. One day we will catch up, and they will venture with me to all these places. I see it more like me exploring the area first, getting it all prepared — a reconnaissance mission, if you will — so that when they visit, I’ll know precisely where to take them.
The PNW will always have a place in my heart. It helped develop who I am as a person. I owe an overwhelming amount of my essence to the area and the people I met during my time there. The Seattle I left will be different the next time I visit, but that’s to be expected, and I look forward to revisiting the area with a new perspective. Mainly, I’m looking forward to sitting down at a bar and having a drink with my friends, reminiscing on the past and hearing how their lives are. And in return, I hope that they can see that I’m happy, and that the move was necessary for my personal development.
Im not advocating for everyone to shake things up and so drastically restart their lives. If you are in a place that you feel comfortable and know that what you have is what you want, then by all means continue doing your thing. That was not the case for me. Internally, I felt stuck and needed something new. I felt like I was running on a hamster wheel. The only thing changing was the environment around me, whereas I was running in place… lots of motion, but no progress, and, inherently, I felt like I had places that I needed to be.
Starting anew is always difficult. It’s lonely. It’s depressing. And it does suck. But it’s totally worth it. I can feel it in my soul that I’ve made the right decision. I’m proud that I took this huge risk to get out of my comfort zone. Comfortability and its debilitation will be different for everyone. It’s important to acknowledge what you are feeling internally. Not rub the feeling off to the side and work through it. Listen to the feeling. Understand the feeling. And realize that this does not have to be your end. That this is just the beginning. That you can make the changes needed to live the life you want.
