My Move From New York to Florida

I spent nearly 18 years residing in Clifton Park, New York before uprooting my life to Florida.

When I was young, my parents mentioned the idea of moving to Florida after I graduated high school, but I honestly didn’t believe it until the time came. A part of me was eager to escape the suburban glory of upstate New York. A fresh start awaiting me? I felt like I needed that more than ever.

On the other hand, I had JUST established something that was years in the making: a solid group of friends. As an only child, I found it hard making friends. And when I actually forged friendships, I had trouble maintaining them. On top of that, a new relationship had just begun a month before my NY departure. It felt like my entire senior year was me just building my life around me higher and higher, only to leave it in the end.

Though the last month or two in New York was a whirlwind, I had some time here and there to write in my journal. Here’s a little bit of an entry from one of my last days:

July 25: “These last few days in NY have been some of the hardest. I said goodbye to Helen in a Stewart’s parking lot last night and nearly cried. I know I’ll obviously see them again. It’s just the initial shock.”

blue notebook saying my secret plan to rule the world on cover with pink background

I wanted to include something authentic to the actual moving process like this little part of my journal in this piece because it was real-time and raw emotion. Emotions can feel so amplified in the moment and those feelings are 100% valid.

In hindsight, I truly think the universe was against my family and me moving. We ended up leaving a day later than originally planned and because there was no furniture in the house, my parents and I slept on the floor of the living room. We had every intention of leaving bright and early that next morning but as I already said, the universe was not on our side. The POD with a majority of our belongings had been shipped a few days before, though both cars were fully packed.

As I plopped into the passenger seat of my mother’s car, I realized that would be the last time in that house. I envisioned this day for months now and I fully expected to shed a few tears but I think I was so exhausted and emotionally drained from all of the goodbyes, I had no tears for an inanimate object like a house. My mother and I start driving down Appletree Lane and I feel like an astronaut hurling out of the Earth’s atmosphere. All of the crap in the back of the car was literally weighing it down to where it felt like I was leaning back at a substantial angle. We realized there was no way to drive over a thousand miles that way so we ended up postponing our departure (yet again) so we could order another POD to be shipped down. It was as if Murphy’s law was tattooed on all of our foreheads.

Seeing my friends would never be that frequent or regular like it was. I guess you could say that for anyone going off to college, but the difference is that I don’t go back to Clifton Park for Thanksgiving or Christmas or summer. While I haven’t fully accepted my “new” life down here yet, I’ve made strides in the right direction. And I know I’m not alone. When I came to college, I met so many people on campus that moved after high school and were in the same boat I was in. It can be intimidating to be the person who doesn’t know a single person on a gigantic campus. My advice to those who are feeling scared to be the “newbie” is to take advantage of this opportunity. Nobody knows who you are or what you stand for. Nobody has any lingering preconceived notions of you. It’s a clean slate.

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