I’ve moved four times — only three of which I consciously remember — and each time has taught me something different. Moving isn’t just about changing locations; it’s about navigating uncertainty, rebuilding connections, and learning to embrace the unknown. With every move, I’ve experienced both excitement and loss, but one thing has remained constant: change is more than okay — it’s necessary for growth.
Through my experiences, I’ve learned that moving is about adapting to new environments, making unexpected friendships, and discovering resilience in yourself. The transition can feel overwhelming whether you’re facing a cross-country move or just relocating to a new neighborhood. But if there’s anything my journey has taught me, it’s that while change can be scary, it often leads to something even better. In this article, I’ll share the lessons I’ve learned from each move, offering insight for anyone going through a similar transition.
My first move was back in the summer of 2006 when I was just five months old. My family consisted of three of us: me, my mom, and my dad. We lived in a single-family home in Virginia Beach, where I was born. My parents had met there a few years ago at a local karaoke bar while my dad was in the Navy and the rest was history.
When my dad retired from the Navy, once he had been in service for 20 years, he decided to look for jobs that aligned with his skill set. He had been a radioman in the Navy, so he began to look for communications-related jobs. A company in Camden, New Jersey, offered him a job, and my family made the move. Of course, I don’t remember anything from this period, but I know that the move was difficult for my parents. They were leaving a lot behind — where my mom was raised, where my parents met, both of their families (my dad’s side in Virginia Beach and my mom’s in Northern Virginia), where I was born, and so much more. But for me, the move set the stage for the rest of my life.
Once we got to New Jersey, we eventually moved to a nice, upper-middle-class neighborhood. My parents had a smooth transition; they joined a playgroup where they made friends who had kids my age. That was how I met my childhood friends. It was just this nice, big group of neighborhood families. Then, my brother was born in 2008, and he made friends in that playgroup as well.
My elementary school was in the neighborhood, along with countless lakes and parks and safe streets to ride my bike. We lived in a cul-de-sac, and I would often play outside with the kids around the block, as well as on my street. We filled that house with memories for 13 years. Needless to say, a lot can change in 13 years. My parents fell out with many of the members of the neighborhood group, and they were anxious for a path out of there.
Sure enough, they quickly found a house at the end of my 7th-grade year. It was a cute Victorian home a few towns over, just around 30 minutes from our old town. Because it was pretty close, I wasn’t so devastated about leaving my friends. I knew I could still hang out with them. It was just difficult knowing that we were leaving behind a place where so many memories were made.
I remember visiting the potential house a few times before the move, and something just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the fact that I would have rather not moved; my intuition has always been really strong, and something deep inside of me was saying, This move isn’t smart … it doesn’t make sense. Maybe it was because it was so sudden. Regardless, my brother felt it as well, and we had voiced our opinions to our parents multiple times. They were so blinded by the possibility of what they thought was going to be a good chance that they didn’t listen, let alone to their 10-year-old and 13-year-old children.
Sure enough, shortly after this abrupt move, problems arose. My parents had failed to take into consideration how high the bills would be; the house was a Victorian model, so it was old. Heating bills were so insane that I remember putting on layers while walking around the house in the winter since my parents were holding off on turning up the heat. It was also simply very difficult to integrate into a new neighborhood with all new people. (Also, most of the people in that town didn’t exactly share my family’s political views.)
This was the beginning of my eighth-grade year, so I was able to make friends pretty easily and join a group. But what I think happened was that I was so anxious to recreate the friendships that I’d had at my old school that I came on way too strong. I went through a few major friendship fallouts in the short amount of time that I was in that new town. My brother made a few friends, but I think he always missed his old ones.
Nine months after we had moved, my parents found a house in our original neighborhood — a different house, but the same model as our first home. They didn’t think twice before putting our house on the market and putting an offer on this one. We were all so relieved to be able to go back to what we were familiar with. However, this occurred during the very beginning of COVID-19, so we had a very strange transition.
My brother and I had recently begun online school through our then-school district, so when we moved back to our original neighborhood, we ended up finishing our schooling with that school instead of transferring. Despite the weird transition, we were so happy. Our new house was a lakefront, so we could paddleboard and kayak. We finally got to see our original friends, going on almost daily bike rides and hanging out in each other’s yards. To me, the nine months that I wasn’t there had, at that point, felt like a slightly unnecessary break from what was real. Nevertheless, I was home and we were getting the chance to reintegrate ourselves into the neighborhood.
My parents and brother reconnected with a lot of old friends as well, and it was especially nice to have these close connections during such a turbulent time like COVID.
For a while, I lived in a land of delusion that this was the happy ending. I’d go through high school with my childhood best friends, go to college in-state, and I’d find a job somewhere in New Jersey. A lot changed in those four years.
I fell out with my childhood friends during my junior year of high school, changed what I wanted my future college and career to be multiple times, and even had a different idea of where I wanted to end up when all was said and done. High school was a major time of discovery for me, and I’m glad I got to experience it in the place where I grew up. Everything felt full circle when I made new friends after falling out with the old and figuring out who I really was. By my senior year, I was happy, and everything felt stable for the first time in a long time.
Behind all of this, my family knew what was coming: the inevitable final move. I knew, my whole childhood, that my parents wanted to end up back in Virginia at some point, whether it was back at the beach or near my mom’s family in Northern Virginia. But throughout my years in high school, rebuilding my life and myself in general, I forgot about that inevitable.
When my parents broke the news to me that my dad was looking for jobs in the middle of my senior year of high school, I was distraught. It felt like the end of the world for me. I had just gotten comfortable with myself and my friend group, and all of a sudden, I found out that I might be moving, right after high school.
My biggest concern was that I was going to lose touch with my friends after the move. I knew it was already difficult to maintain hometown friendships in college, especially when everyone was hours away from each other. But at least if I lived in the same town as my friends, I would be able to see them over breaks. It felt like at this point, I would eventually have nothing.
Another thing was, of course, leaving the place where I’d grown up and built my life. I had so many memories in my hometown, let alone my neighborhood. Every time my parents would bring up moving for the rest of that year, I would get so upset. I remember crying so much.
I was happy when my dad got a job offer in Northern Virginia, but at the same time, I was upset that I had to leave behind the life I’d built in New Jersey. Thankfully, I ended up having a longer gap between graduating high school and the move. There was a lot of miscommunication between my dad and his potential job, so the process didn’t go through until after my freshman year winter break — over a year since he’d first received the offer. That meant that I had fall break, Thanksgiving break, and winter break to spend at home, in Jersey. My mom had gotten a field placement in Northern Virginia during this time as well, so she had been going back and forth between Virginia and New Jersey. Still, I was still sort of living in my delusions until winter break.
It was also while I was away at college that my dad found out that there was a possibility that the offer would actually go through. My mom didn’t tell me the confirmed news until after winter break in January over FaceTime. This was very difficult for me to process.
This move happened quicker than I expected. My dad accepted the offer officially in the middle of January, and the plan was that he was going to start his job a month later, in the middle of February, and my brother would start school at that time as well. With my mom’s field placement, she would still go back and forth between Virginia and New Jersey, but this time, she would have an extra responsibility: getting the house ready to go on the market.
My dad and brother would stay at my grandpa’s house in Northern Virginia until my family was able to put the house on the market and start looking for new houses. The hope was to put the house on the market after my spring break.
By spring break, I had processed a lot more and entered the break with a new mindset: yes, things are changing, and yes, change can be scary. But change can also be good. So, I decided to view the move as a positive thing, even though I’m still waiting to fully understand why. I know it will be nice to be near family and for my parents to be much closer to me at college rather than four hours away. I also know that, eventually, they will be able to pay for in-state tuition. But I’m still waiting to see what this move means for my greater purpose.
I spent spring break living in New Jersey for the last time. I had the opportunity to see my friends and soak in my hometown, while simultaneously packing up my bedroom. My mom spent the week finishing up at her job in New Jersey, then dedicating the rest of her time to studying for school and preparing the house.
I did everything for the ‘last’ time. I had my ‘last’ Jersey bagel, visited my track team for the ‘last’ time, and took my ‘last’ trip to my local Starbucks. (‘Last’ as in the last time doing these things while living there.) I also spent the last night in the house cradled up in my bed sheets and comfortable mattress, surrounded by the bedroom walls that I’d loved for years.
I’m writing this as my house is officially on the market as of last week and has plenty of offers already. (That house is honestly to die for — the renovations my parents did are out of this world, and of course, it’s on a lake!) While I am still looking for the good that will gradually be found in this move, I know one thing for certain: I’ll always have a home in New Jersey.
Living in the same state for 19 years gave me the most wonderful memories and insanely valuable connections that could never be replaced. Many of my friends have told me that I am welcome to stay at their houses whenever I go back to visit, which I appreciate more than they will ever know.
I’ve come to terms with the move now, and if anything, I am comfortable. I know now that every move that I’ve made throughout my life was meant to teach me something different. The first move, in 2005, was one I couldn’t remember but was the most defining. It taught me the importance of a foundation.
The second move in 2019, when I was finishing seventh grade, was more sudden. This move taught me that not every change is permanent, and sometimes, what you think is a fresh start turns out to be a detour leading you back to where you truly belong.
Nine months later, my third move brought me back to my old neighborhood — back to familiarity, to a house identical to the one we had left. This move taught me the value of home — not just as a place, but as the feeling of being somewhere you know that you belong, even if it isn’t forever.
And now, I’m in the middle of my fourth move, the one that has been the hardest to process but also the one I’ve handled with the most strength. But with time, I realized that I’m not losing everything; I’m simply moving forward. I’m in college now, and Virginia has already been a big part of my life. I have family there, and I’ve spent so much time there that the transition doesn’t feel as daunting as I once feared. This move is different because, for the first time, I feel secure. I know my friendships will last, I know my old home is only a three-hour drive away, and I know that even though I’m leaving behind so much, I am also stepping into something that could be just as meaningful.
If you come across a stage in your life when there is a possibility of a big change, it’s okay to be upset and sit in that sadness for a while; you need to do that in order to process. But also remember that everything happens for a reason. Every big change will lead you to some greater purpose, even if you aren’t quite sure what it is yet.