From birth to 11 years of age, I lived in New Hampshire. My stepdad at the time then moved us to Chesapeake, Virginia because of his job; I spent 5th-7th grade in this state. Then my stepfather got a more lucrative job offer, which had us move to the Houston, Texas area.
I went to high school in a snobby, boring suburb of Houston, spent my freshman year of college at Univ. of South Florida in Tampa (my father had resided in Florida since I was about 3 years old), went back to aforementioned suburb for a year at the community college because it was cheaper, then transferred to Texas State University in the hill country (near Austin, TX) to finish my last two years of college with a BA degree. In total, I spent 7 years in Texas and a one year stint in Florida. After college, I didn't know what the hell to do with myself. Graduate school had not been on my priority list. At the time, I had this idealistic notion that the world was my oyster and I would land a full-time job that would allow me to utilize my BA in Psych degree.
My mom and stepdad had divorced. My mom had met someone else (now my current stepdad) and they (along with my brother A.) had moved to Reno, Nevada shortly before I graduated college in Dec. 2000. Since I had no family around in Texas anymore (and never cared much for the state, sans the liberal area of Austin), I had no desire to stay there. I had no money though, so I decided to move in with my family in Reno until I could land on my feet. There were no professional jobs for me and I felt stuck. As much as I loved the west coast and having the security/support of family, I didn't want to live there. It didn't feel like me, didn't feel like "home" or a place I could thrive. I started thinking about teaching English in a foreign country, maybe do the Peace Corps. I wanted to do something different, life changing, adventurous, or meaningful. I was so conflicted and overwhelmed by the possibilities. During this time of me trying to figure things out, my mom and stepdad weren't doing well financially (to put it mildly).
For a brief time (June 2001 to Dec 2001), I moved to Kentucky (where my stepdad is from) with my mom, stepdad, and brother A; things only got worse. I felt like I was on the threshold of hell. The most awful state I've ever painstakingly experienced....and to think I was only there for 6 months!
Perhaps though it was being stuck in that horrible environment that propelled me to something significantly better. It was then that I decided I needed to go to graduate school. It was my only chance for a greater life. I started looking for schools via online searches. I thought about Hawaii....seemed like paradise, but also too expensive and maybe too far/isolated from everyone else. I considered Colorado and San Francisco.
Then I stumbled upon Chicago, Illinois. A city and state I had never been, a place that had never entered into my mind until the day I came across a graduate school webpage. A few weeks after Sept. 11, 2001, I was attending an interview with the head of the marriage and family counseling program at Adler in downtown Chicago....the last part of the application process I had to complete. I was accepted. And I was scared shitless. I had never lived in a city so huge...and not knowing ANYONE. But I did it. I wanted opportunities and most of all (even though it may have been an unconscious desire at the time) I wanted to know what my life would be like with no one telling me what to do or influencing my decisions. Whatever happened in my life, it would be entirely of my own making and of my own volition....and that's exactly what happened, in various aspects of my life. I lived there from December 2001 to March 2008.
As much as I loved Chicago, I was getting that "stuck" feeling I experienced seven years prior. Chicago was too cold, too fast paced. It was fun for my 20's, but I wanted a different atmosphere and more opportunities as I entered my 30's. The west coast appealed to me....and when I found out my mom and a good friend of mine were interested in moving to Seattle, WA around the same time I was contemplating a move, I made the decision that's where I was going to go. Again, I had never been to Seattle...nor the state of Washington. I figured my bold move to Chicago served me well in the overall scheme of things, so surely WA would do the same. (I moved to Seattle in 2008, where I still currently reside.)
But what if each moving decision isn't comparable to the others?
As I reflect (and share with you here) on the various moves I've made throughout my life, I find myself wondering what drives us to move to a particular place....and furthermore, are those drives very different depending on our age and experiences we've had thus far?
How often is it about (seemingly) necessity vs. desire? How much does our emotional state at a certain point in our lives influence our decision making (ie, a belief or feeling that a move will make our lives happier, better, or more fulfilling in some way...even if this is a fallacy in hindsight)?
Do risk takers move more? Do some people hate where they live, but stay in the same area their whole lives simply because of convenience and proximity to family, friends,etc? How much do political leanings and economic factors effect whether to move (and where)? Culture? Weather? Population size? The "personality" and/or intelligence of a region? Educational and employment opportunities? Crime rates?
With so many factors to consider, which ones become the priorities towards a decision?
I realize there's no one particular answer, as every individual is unique in regard to life experiences and values. This is just something I ponder and find sociologically fascinating.
