What I Didn’t Expect to Learn in My First Year Starting Over in a New City

As the year comes to a close and the holiday season approaches, I wanted to take a moment to reflect—and to wish you warmth, rest, and a little creative magic in the weeks ahead. This past year has been full of unexpected lessons and growth.

Truthfully, while I knew this past year would teach me something new, I didn’t expect how much it would challenge every expectation I had about what life should look like. At times, it felt like life had duped me. Yet, slowly—day by day, week by week, month by month—I began to see the bigger picture: a year of deep, rapid healing that sometimes felt too fast to fully take in. In the midst of it all, I started to name these moments one by one, and that’s how the lessons in this post became the pivotal points that shaped my first year starting over in a new city.

I had to grieve the life I thought I’d have before I could embrace the one that was waiting for me.

Leaving the city where I had built what I believed would be a longer-term life wasn’t an easy decision. When I first settled there, I sensed it wouldn’t be forever — but knowing something intellectually and being ready to release it emotionally are two very different things.

Over time, my creativity began to stagnate, and burnout crept closer to an unstable edge. I reached a point where staying meant risking too much — my well-being, my connection with my children, and my ability to imagine a life beyond survival mode. Choosing to leave wasn’t about running away; it was about saving myself and making space for something healthier, even when the path ahead was still unclear.

In stepping away, I ended a familiar survival cycle and reached toward a version of life I had quietly longed for and spoken about for years. What once felt distant or unrealistic is now slowly taking shape. I’m beginning to see those dreams meet the ground, rooted in daily life rather than just hope.

| Video: Why I Moved to a New City & State

I didn’t rush to decorate or recreate past versions of “home.” I let this environment feel like home first, then built around that.

A couple of years ago, during a courtesy life coaching session, I found myself admitting something that felt crushing to say out loud. The home I had built in my previous city, while stable and creative in many ways, was also formed out of survival. It gave my children and me what we needed at the time — safety, structure, a place to land — but it wasn’t the full expression of the life I had envisioned for myself. Acknowledging that brought me to deep, unexpected tears.

Later, I realized this wasn’t an isolated experience. Many of my past homes had been created from urgency — a need to make a space look like home before it truly felt like home to me. When I moved to this new city, I felt that familiar pull to rush the process. This time, though, I chose differently.

I allowed myself to sit in the temporary season — undecorated rooms, minimal furniture, and open space that didn’t yet reflect my usual creative style. It wasn’t always comfortable. But little by little, the space began to define itself. Home started to emerge naturally, rather than being forced into place.

For the first time, I was also creating a home designed for two — myself and my new marriage — something I had never fully had the chance to do before. That awareness slowed me down even more, reminding me that this space deserved patience, intention, and room to grow.

| TikTok: Soft Livingroom Reset

I stopped pushing myself into community spaces or public visibility. This year, tending to myself was the community work.

Early on, I followed well-meaning but outdated advice about plugging into community immediately after a move. In this new environment, that approach quickly became overwhelming. There was an unspoken pressure to perform connection — to be seen, liked, and established as the “new person in town.” At the same time, I was already navigating unfamiliar territory: newly married, living in a space that didn’t yet feel like home, and adjusting to an entirely new rhythm of life.

I found myself spending more time outside of myself, searching for engagement and connection because that’s what we’re often told we should do. It didn’t take long to recognize this pattern for what it was — another survival response, not a soul-aligned need. So, I paused.

I didn’t disappear completely. I chose a slower, safer approach. I participated in a few community events, but only those connected to people or spaces where there was already a sense of mutual trust and familiarity. That felt very different from pushing myself into rooms full of strangers just to prove I was “integrating.”

That’s when something important clicked: I am the community I need to take care of first. When I honored that truth, I was able to turn my energy inward — toward my well-being, my nervous system, and the foundation I was still building at home.

| Read: When Emotional Burnout Isn’t Collapse...It’s a Clearing

| YouTube: Greek Festival 2025

I released old ideas of what marriage “should” look like and let this one grow into something new — defined by patience, space, and genuine love.

What I learned very quickly about living with my husband is that we are both deeply independent people. We have our own hobbies, our own food preferences, and very different energy levels. Bringing all of that into one shared space has meant learning how to meet each other in between — in the shared tasks, quiet moments, and rhythms we build together.

Once I began working, it became even more important to be intentional about the time we do have. Sometimes that looks simple: sitting together on the couch watching a movie, waking up an extra hour earlier just to have coffee with him while he eats his first meal of the day, or running errands together — whether I technically need to be there or not.

One of the most important lessons this season has taught me is how much my inner dialogue matters. Protecting the way I speak to myself about my husband has become essential. I regularly remind myself of the genuine love I have for him, regardless of how much outward time we get together in a given week. That inner dialogue has become my compass toward connection, especially in seasons where our time feels limited.

I’m also learning that doing life together doesn’t have to be extravagant. For us, it’s not about constant outings, trips, or dinner dates. It’s about creating a shared life here at home — one that calms our nervous systems and builds a quieter, deeper kind of intimacy. That’s something we didn’t fully have when we lived at a distance, and it’s something I value deeply right now.

| TikTok: A Long Walk in the Park

When my mental health needed more than routines, I finally advocated for real support… something I’d put off for almost a decade.

When the initial high of the move began to fade, I found myself wrestling with something deeper beneath the surface: depression and anxiety — two very familiar emotional companions that had quietly lingered for years.

For a while, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling was real. I had spent so much time creating through these emotions that I rarely stopped to sit with them. But once life slowed enough for me to do that, the truth became clear: it was time to address this head-on.

I made the decision to recommit to a previous part of my healing journey and add medication back into my care. What I’ve learned through this process is that sometimes you can be doing all the “right” things outwardly and still need additional support — and that doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

Today, I’m in a much steadier emotional space, and I continue to improve as I learn how to set boundaries around my time and energy. I’m finally allowing myself the grace and care I’ve needed for a long time.

| TikTok: Mental & Emotional Health Recovery

I chose a lower-pressure part-time job to stabilize my new life instead of forcing myself back into survival-mode workplaces.

My previous work required a high level of strategy, organization, and project coordination — often outside my creative zone. In this new season, choosing a simpler role in culinary and food service felt more aligned with where I am now. It allows me to leave work at work and not carry its mental weight home with me.

While the job has required a physical adjustment, I’m learning how to set clear boundaries around my time and energy so I can show up sustainably. I see this role not as a setback, but as a steppingstone — one that supports my well-being while leaving space for whatever comes next.

| YouTube: Fun Part-Time job

I stopped chasing connections and learned how to be my own best friend — and that’s enough for now.

In the past, chasing connection looked like always being the one to reach out first, quick to respond when someone replied, and eager to prove that I was trustworthy, consistent, and present. Over time, I realized that this pattern didn’t allow relationships to unfold naturally or honestly.

I came to understand that while people go through seasons of pulling back when life gets hard, I was often still showing up during those times — even when others couldn’t. That didn’t make them wrong or unkind, but it did reveal a lack of reciprocity I could no longer ignore.

Letting go of the need to maintain connections that didn’t have the capacity to meet me where I was has been an important shift. Instead of pouring so much outward, I’ve redirected that energy inward. In doing so, I’ve been building a stronger relationship with myself — one that feels steady, supportive, and right for this season.

And I let go of guilt around parenting from a distance. My kids are older, and presence can look different without being any less real.

When I lived in the same state as my children, much of my energy went toward creating stability while navigating two very different parenting dynamics. I often leaned into what I think of as stationary parenting — structuring my life around what those dynamics required so my kids could feel as balanced and supported as possible. While that season mattered deeply, it often meant making decisions that left little room for what I ultimately wanted for my own life.

When that chapter came to a close, I reached a point where I knew I needed to follow my own compass. Moving to a different state and beginning a new life with my husband changed what parenting looked like for me — not in a lesser way, but in a different one. The adjustment took time for all of us, but what emerged was something healthier.

Today, my children have access to a version of me who isn’t carrying the same weight I once did. I’m more emotionally available, more present in the ways that matter most as they continue to grow, mature, and lean into their own environments and independence. I’m still here — just showing up in a new form.

| YouTube: Staycation Summer Moments

Other Posts You May Like:

• Simple Living: A Slow Shift Toward Micro-Goals
• Simple Living: Redefining My Goals & Foundation
• How I Recognized It Was Time for a New Environment (And You Might, Too)
• Simple Living, Creativity, Community and Change

Here are some actions you can take next on this blog:

• I encourage you to check out the Simple Living, Creativity, and Community pages, where you can find ideas and resources I'm exploring this year.

• I'd love to have you join my midweek check-in email, where I share a mid-week check-in with honest reflections and updates on how I'm creating and living fully in the here and now. (This email will resume weekly in the Spring of 2026).

• Stop by my YouTube channel @creativelifebynherie where I share life, creativity and intuitive tips connected to a stable and thriving creative lifestyle journey.

• If you need to get in touch with me, just follow the instructions on the contact page.