Why I Left NYC After 13 Years
If you don’t know by now, I did my big one. I packed up my entire life in New York City and moved 2,331 miles across the country to the West Coast, Soutwest to be exact. It still feels surreal to me. Like, I really moved from the greatest city in the world, NYC, to a place HOTTER than the sun, Phoenix, Arizona. I am the girl who swore up and down that I’d never leave New York City. To help the average person understand why I made such a dramatic change, I think we need to take a quick rewind and bring you up to speed. So, like Missy said, let me flip it and reverse it real quick so y’all understand how I got from the concrete jungle to the land of deserts, mountains and sunshine.
The truth? I was starting to feel drained and exhausted mentally in NYC. After 2020, for most people, everything changed. The pandemic brought on a lot of trauma and the way we live and relate to others changed. Then came my breast cancer diagnosis and soon after that, I lost my mom. COVID did make me realize something. Through it all, I realized something. NYC is not built for someone walking through that level of grief and it didn’t allow for the amount of healing that I needed. And honestly, the city is already a lot on a normal day—add trauma on top of it, and it becomes overwhelming. I remember walking with my sister after one of my chemo treatments on a very disrespectful, cold day, wind cutting across my face, a tear forming from the chill, and thinking, “I don’t think I want to live here after I finish treatment.”
My apartment was basically a shoebox. I had several people come visit me at this time of my treatments and my place was so cramped. Once I got a dog? Game over. I had no space. I was literally dropping bags of laundry at the laundromat because I had nowhere to put anything. I was suffocating — physically and mentally exhausted by my surroundings. And the upstairs neighbor situation? Let’s just say I’m healed enough not to give that storyline any more shine. Just know the drama was real and I was over it.
When Life Told Me It Was Time to Go
Over the last five years, both NYC and I had changed. I survived breast cancer. Some of my friends began moving away or stopped reaching out as much. I found myself working from home more and feeling isolated in a city that used to be my playground. The city itself started to become more wild and felt heavier. The day the sky turned apocalypse orange and the city officials told us not to breathe the air, my anxiety said, “Ok, Imma head out”. Then, almost a year later, a small earthquake hit and I said, “Okay God, I hear you loud and clear.” I knew it was time to go—but I needed to figure out where to go.
Arizona Kept Calling Me
I didn’t want to rush it. I asked myself, “Where can I breathe again? Where can I find peace?” My heart kept pointing to Arizona. My first time visiting was years ago on a solo trip after grad school. Something shifted in me when I was there. The peace was loud. It felt like the universe whispering, “Hey girl, you could be happy here.” I drove to the Grand Canyon alone and felt so free, like I was literally moving mountains and reconnecting with my faith. Since then, Phoenix has stayed in my spirit.
The scenery, the mountains, the quiet, the sky that looks hand-painted, Arizona felt like a reset. Even when I returned for my 40th birthday, which was also the first anniversary of my mom’s passing, it felt so comforting, almost as if the desert held me. I felt protected and deeply healed. Sedona added another layer of peace I didn’t know I needed. Later that year, visiting my cousin in Palm Springs sealed the deal. It had the same desert beauty, mountains, palm trees, hummingbirds, citrus trees, but with a 65+ vibe. Cute for them, not for me, as far as living full-time. But the environment itself reminded me: “I need this kind of energy every day.”
Planning My Cross-Country Move
About a year before I moved, I knew my next NYC lease would be my last. So I planned like the Type A person that I am. I visited Phoenix with my family ten months before the move. I pulled out spreadsheets, Trello boards and checklists. I explored neighborhoods, toured apartments, got quotes for long-distance movers, researched cars and dealerships, and reconnected with the small amount of family I have in Arizona.
My Moving Checklist Included:
- Exploring Phoenix neighborhoods
- Touring apartments in my price range
- Getting quotes for long-distance movers
- Researching a car and dealerships
- Connecting with family in Arizona
Then came the final sign. Six months before moving, my downstairs neighbor, someone around my age, passed away from a heart attack in her apartment. I believe she was overworked and stressed, like so many of us in NYC. That moment reminded me just how short life is and how long I’d been postponing my peace. I knew it was time.
Move-In Day: Faith Dressed as Butterflies
By moving day, I wasn’t scared per se, a bit of nervousness which was faith dressed as butterflies. I was more than ready for a new beginning. At this point, I was over New York and just ready for simple luxuries like a washer and dryer. MY NYC girlies understand the struggle. Feeling safe traveling on public transportation. Not getting cursed out at 8 AM on the sidewalk. Public transportation in NYC had not been as safe as it was before COVID and I barely wanted to ride the subway late at night, my last few months there. I wanted to walk down the street in silence and not have to deal with the everyday commotion, which can be very overstimulating.
The first night I arrived in Phoenix, it was hotter than fish grease even after dark felt like a blow dryer on high. I realized that the West Coast hospitality was different. The rental girl blessed me with a Mustang. I was like I don’t need all that but ok girl. She had me feeling like I was auditioning for Fast & Furious. The next day, I got my apartment keys, picked up my new car and everything flowed so smoothly I had a full Waiting to Exhale moment. Even sleeping on an air mattress felt luxurious because the peace was unmatched. My complex looked like a resort, complete with palm trees, a pool and a gym. The tranquility was Chef’s kiss.
Building My New Life in Phoenix
Since then, I’ve slowly been turning this place into my home, slowly because these furniture prices tried to humble me; nobody warned me that furniture now costs the same as rent. My taste is apparently “rich auntie expensive,” but it’s fine. I’ve upgraded my whole life. Sis, the white refrigerator era is gone and the smart appliance era has arrived. I see hummingbirds and flowers in my yard daily. I’m able to exhale here.
Culturally, Phoenix is different, but there is some culture here; you just have to find it. Downtown might be quiet when it’s hot, but the events are still happening. I’ve already been to multiple concerts, Trap Karaoke, Roosevelt Jawn, Ditch Da, and explored new restaurants and spas. It’s really giving a soft life. I joined a gym, found a Zumba/Cycle crew, and started saying yes to meeting new people. Recently, I even launched a meetup group called Valley Vibes + Good Vibes—and over 60 people joined almost immediately. My first events are coming up, and I’m nervous but proud of myself for creating what I needed.
What’s Next for Me
Now that the weather has cooled, I’m excited for my first real Arizona fall and winter. I’m ready to get back into my creativity and document this new chapter. I’m also leaning into my Martha Stewart era, officially naming my home “Château de Sen.” I want to do all the things: knit, sew, bake pecan pies, host my friends, build traditions, decorate tablescapes, create mocktail recipes, and fully lean into joy. I’ve always loved celebrating the little things, and now I have space to do it.
I don’t know exactly what’s next, but I do know this: I’m entering a new season with an open heart. I am open to all the good things Arizona has waiting for me. This is my fresh start—and I’m embracing every moment.
