three transcontinental moves, six thousand miles: honoring feelings during life transitions
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Since my first blog post, my life has, yet again, been about transitioning. Last month, I packed everything into three suitcases and fifteen cardboard boxes.
I said goodbye to New York—to friends, communities, and people who created a nonjudgmental space where my authentic self could finally bloom. On my way to the airport, I looked at the skyscrapers that never shrank my personality nor let me feel small.
I said hello to San Francisco.
This is the third big move I have made in five years, from my hometown in Italy, through Berlin and New York City, to San Francisco. And the hardest part never changes: saying goodbye to those who made my experience—simply—human.
making bittersweetness joyful
The month before moving, nostalgia had already set in. I admitted to my therapist I thought I was isolating myself from my friends in New York to lessen the pain of moving away from them. She agreed, and we both laughed out loud: deep down, I always know what is going on, don't I? She asked whether I preferred to leave silently—without cherishing my last days in good company—or unapologetically, filling my time with bittersweetness and joy.
From that moment, I started reaching out again, asking people to grab an ice cream together. I ordered one scoop of vanilla with dark chocolate spread and spooned my gratitude into my friends' hugs, reminding them how much flavor they have added to my life.
The ending of my year in New York City has been shimmering with authenticity.
On my plane to San Francisco, I plunged into my feelings and watched Past Lives. One line still resounds in my head. It captured what I was about to face again: the initial loneliness of a stranger in a new city, who had to find her place to thrive.
"When I first immigrated, I used to cry a lot, but then I realized that nobody cared."
observe the new & let your consciousness stream
I've landed in San Francisco.
Everything is new, and when I look up there's just a sky-blue sky. The house I'll be staying in for the next thirty days is beautifully decorated, and the amount of greenery is already sparking my creativity.
The Pacific Ocean is within walking distance. The landscapes are breathtaking. At the Mexican taqueria around the corner, I can order in Spanish.
It is so quiet outside that I can hear the birds chirping. Have I traveled to the other side of the world only to realize that I missed the quietness of home? What is home?
No more sirens. The bustle is gone. I can hear myself breathing—a sigh of relief after a year-long marathon.
"I hadn't seen all the shades of sweet peppers in years. Oh, look at these organic peaches!"
Everything is new, yet familiar. It feels like I am back to where I grew up. It must be the Mediterranean climate. If I close my eyes, I remember my childhood.
It is no better.
It is different.
It is.
at the beginning, say yes
One thing that I have learned is that you should let yourself be inspired by the new environment. Let it surprise you. Uncertainty cannot be swept away, so you'd better roll with it.
Stay flexible, be open-minded, and say yes to dive into building and familiarizing yourself with your new life.
Yes, to watching the Euro Cup in a pub at 9 a.m. with some newly met people. Yes, to going to a writing club with friends who will be in the city for a month. Yes, to being ushered into the offices of Daylight and coming home with the new paper-like computer.
Yes, to having random conversations with strangers when queuing for ice cream. Yes, I do love ice cream, to be cradled by comfort while savoring new flavors.
about finding a new alignment
I spent half of my 20s in Italy, aching for California. California was my symbol of starting anew. And the fact that life, by sheer circumstance, brought me here is quite… marvelous. A reminder to trust the direction of your choices.
Nonetheless, I knew that after a few days there would be a downturn. And after a week, the novelty began to fade, when a foggy morning reminded me that I was, yet again, alone.
When the new becomes a routine you still don't know, you'll remember about the chores, and the apartment to find within fifteen days, unless you don't want to sleep in a hotel room smaller than your luggage. Your skin yearning for moisturizer and self-care. The friends you have left, your family 6,000 miles away. The new friends who don't yet exist.
This is when you'll feel the loneliest, when you'll get into a dumb fight with the person closest to you, and when you'll ask yourself if all that effort was worth it. But we've done this before. It is about time, patience, tiny discoveries, and one accomplishment at a time.
I didn’t understand how people on the West Coast could wake up so early in the morning. Yet now that I live here, I wake up between 6 and 7 a.m. without an alarm. I think it’s the sun, the breeze, and the possibility of outdoor activities. The daylight drags you out of bed, gently whispering, "A new day is about to start". I didn't know I could be an early riser—a surprising new habit.
Everything seems slower, but the day feels longer. People walk without rushing, and comfy suits have become my primary outfit. Work is focused and concentrated on something you believe in. 6:30 p.m. is the perfect time to have dinner, and 8 p.m. is for enjoying sunsets.
How many lustrous discoveries, just listening and paying attention.
value your time
Whoever you are, I hope you won't try to suffocate your loneliness. Find shelter in the mindful way you spend your time. Write, bake, read, make music, take pictures, go on a walk. The way you do what you love, deeply and aware—something nobody can steal from you.
There's something attractive in the possibility of fulfilling yourself by yourself. I found out that this way, without evading, I feel even less lonely. Why would I want to forget about my life, when it is the only life given to me?
Loneliness will be the toughest phase, but it can be the most productive one. Most importantly, loneliness is not a permanent resident. She comes, perhaps stays longer, but eventually, she goes. In the meantime, remember that you can define how you react to life.
Embracing loneliness is a conscious choice. Choose to embrace it. Taste it, until it lasts. There is no excuse not to focus on what matters to you.
Lean into loneliness to find purpose.
If this post resonated with you, I'd love to hear your experiences and thoughts.
