Relocating: One year later
We’ve been in northern California a year now.
I don’t know how much I talked about details on the blog, but I was not excited about our decision to move from where we were (southern California) to here (northern California). I tried to put on a brave face, and I was crazy happy that we stayed in this beautiful state. But I did not want to leave.
I was happy. We’d made it a home. I had a job I loved, where I was valued, with reasonable hours, and I could see how having a family would work. Our apartment was small but awesome, right by the beach path, right by restaurants, right by the ocean. I had a running buddy next door.
Things were good, except the pesky fact that T had finished school and was now working part time out of town. That was not good.
I read The Life Of Pi around that time this quote resonated: “Why do people move? What makes them uproot and leave everything they’ve known for a great unknown beyond the horizon? Why climb this Mount Everest of formalities that makes you feel like a beggar? Why enter this jungle of foreignness where everything is new, strange and difficult? The Answer is the same the world over: people move in the hope of a better life”
Simply put, I couldn’t have possibly hoped for a better life.
We moved not explicitly for money, but moving definitely gave T a more prestigious job than our other options. I challenged it at the time, asking if he’d truly be happier at one place versus another. One of his current coworkers, trying to recruit him, said “Yeah, but you can’t just base your decisions on having a happy life in an apartment by the beach!” “Why not?” I said (maybe just in my head).
We’ve been here almost a year, and I can say that I’m not as happy, not yet. I hope this comes as matter-of-fact and not complaining. I own the decision. I own my own happiness. I’m not unhappy, by any means. I’m just still creating this new life.
There are a lot of things that I love. I didn’t expect to enjoy living in a house as much as I do. That was never a priority for me in the past, but knowing that this is (sort of) ours and we’re staying here is surprisingly wonderful. Being closer to nature, getting a bit more seasons (but not real winter)… it’s all good.
I would like to end the post with “but I know it was the right decision,” because that is how posts like this are supposed to end. We’ve talked about it quite a bit, and we don’t know if it was the right decision. We don’t get to know how all of the alternate choices would have played out, so it is impossible to say. Really, it doesn’t matter if it was the most optimal choice or not. I do know two things: It is the choice we made, and it was a good choice.
Some people adapt more quickly than others, and I think I’m slow with change. How long has it taken you to adapt to big life changes? And do you think it gets harder as you get older?