There’s nothing quite like uprooting your life and moving somewhere new completely alone. It’s a little bit thrilling, a little bit terrifying, and a whole lot of what the hell did I just do?
I wish I could say moving solo was all adventure and Instagram-worthy moments, but it’s an emotional rollercoaster. One minute, you’re feeling like an unstoppable, independent legend. The next? You’re crying into your takeout because you don’t have anyone to split the fries with.
I’ve been there. And if you’re considering (or currently surviving) a solo move, here’s what you can expect, the highs, the lows, and everything in between.
The “I’m Doing This!” Rush
That first wave of excitement is invigorating. The moment I got the call that my lease application was approved, signed it, it was like flipped a light switch. I was no longer just talking about moving, I was fucking doing it.
When I moved to Salt Lake City, I got the news while on a road trip and had to pull my car over to process the information. I screamed, I cried, and felt unstoppable. For more details on the process, CLICK HERE
I started romanticizing everything: packing up my life, road-tripping to my new city, decorating my fresh new space. I imagined myself effortlessly making friends, becoming a regular at cute little coffee shops, and fully embracing my full send energy.
In this phase, you feel unstoppable. And honestly? Ride that wave. Because soon enough…
The “Oh Shit, What Have I Done?” Moment
Reality sets in fast. The first night in my new apartment, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and a fridge containing one sad bottle of beer, I felt it. I just left familiarity.
My move to St. Petersburg, Florida was one of the scariest moments of my life. The loneliness. The doubt. The sudden realization that I had no safety net. I moved there not knowing anyone in the entire state, everything felt foreign, I was an alien.
There’s something about moving alone that forces you to sit with yourself. No distractions, no familiar faces to lean on, just you. And, yeah, it gets painfully uncomfortable. I spent countless nights starring at my phone, just sobbing. The crippling pain of watching my friends thriving in a place, a place I just left behind. We get so comfortable with familiar places, and people that we often forget what it’s like to truly be alone. Very alone.
But here’s what I learned: it’s temporary. That initial shock fades, and you start figuring things out one small win at a time.
The “Wait, I’m Actually Doing This” Phase
Slowly but surely, things start falling into place. You find your go-to grocery store, memorize a few key streets, and poof finally stop using GPS to get home.
You also start to embrace the freedom. Want to redecorate at 2 AM? No one’s stopping you. Feel like eating cereal for dinner? Go for it. There’s something empowering about realizing you can build your life exactly how you want it.
This is where you start feeling like a local instead of an outsider.
The Unexpected Emotional Waves
Nobody warns you about the random emotional hits. One day, you’re thriving. The next, something small, an old friend’s birthday post, a familiar song from home, makes you miss everything. Most of all, you miss the comfort.
There’s a different kind of loneliness when you truly have no one. We take our surroundings for granted, complaining, I’m so bored. I wish I knew more people. But in reality, we’re surrounded by a network, even if it doesn’t always feel that way. When you move somewhere new, alone, that network disappears. Even on good days, you come home eager to share something, only to realize there’s no one to tell. A casual walk around the block? No one to call. No one to join you.
Then there’s the guilt, this strange, creeping guilt. You miss people, but you don’t want to move back. You love your new life, but you feel guilty for loving it. It’s a weird mix of nostalgia and forward momentum, and finding balance takes time.
I’ve heard friends say they feel stuck, suffocated by their routines. I share my journey, even if their move would be temporary, to show them that life can be exciting again. But I also understand why they hesitate. The idea of moving alone is overwhelming, terrifying even. Fear creeps in, and the dream never becomes reality. I get it. I’ve done it. And I know firsthand how hard it is to take that first step.
The “Holy Shit, I Made It” Moment
Then, one day, it happens. You’re walking through your city, maybe grabbing coffee from your favorite spot, and it hits you:
This is home now. I’ve moved a lot and at the time of this writing, I’ve been in Salt Lake City for 3 years, but I still find myself stopping on a walk or pulling my car over to just think to myself “I live here.” It’s an amazing feeling.
You’ve built something new, from scratch, all on your own. You had a dream, planned the logistics, dealt with the emotional turbulence, and you’re doing it.
That’s when you realize the rollercoaster was worth it, the anxiety, the lonely nights, the awkward first attempts at making friends. Because now? You’re not just surviving. You’re thriving.
Buckle Up & Enjoy the Ride
Moving alone is one of the hardest, scariest, most rewarding things I’ve done. The highs will make you feel invincible, and the lows will leave you crippled in your bed. But every part of it, the struggles, the small wins, the moments of doubt is shaping you into someone stronger, braver, and more independent.
So, if you’re in the thick of it, just know: you got this. The rollercoaster may be wild, but trust me it’s leading you somewhere amazing.
