In mid-December 2022, I said an eager goodbye to Atlanta, the city I was born in and had called home for the last 10 years. I literally could not wait to leave; I was ready to start my new adventure in Jacksonville, FL — just a 5-ish hour drive South.

After 3 back-to-back weekend trips down to my new house, my Outback was packed to the brim with the last of my belongings…kitchen appliances stacked on top of boxes, beloved plants carefully propped up so they wouldn't fall over during the drive, books and tote bags full of last minute finds wedged tightly into every available nook and cranny. As long as I didn't open the trunk until I got there, everything should stay in place. My car felt heavy, even as I was going 80 miles per hour down I-75.

Why I decided to move to a new city in the first place

Atlanta will always have a special place in my heart. It's my hometown. It's where both my maternal and paternal ancestors lived for as far back as I can trace. It's where the majority of my friends and family live. But living there started to feel heavy.

I had spent the pandemic in Atlanta, and it was a deeply lonely time for me — I was going through a devastating divorce and most of the friendships I'd built faded away as the pandemic wore on. Depression took over and I continued self-isolating, even after mask mandates were lifted and the city returned to its new normal. The heaviness of the last couple of years felt like a dark cloud over my head that I just couldn't shake, no matter how badly I wanted to. When I did venture out, everywhere I went reminded me of a love lost and a life that didn't belong to me anymore. I didn't fit anywhere, and the city didn't fit me.

My best friend, Mika, whom I met during a brief stint in St. Louis before I moved to Atlanta and somehow maintained a close friendship with over the following decade, offered some sage advice:

"You've never been good at small, incremental changes. You need to do something big to get out of this funk."

Now, I'm not in the habit of listening to advice from most people, at least not anymore. But Mika had been right there by my side through so many ups and downs that sometimes it felt like she knew me better than I knew myself. So when she tells me a hard truth about myself, I trust her perspective.

The "something big" I'd been prescribed quickly took form: I was going to move to Florida. Not only would I be closer to my daughter, which is something I had wanted for a very long time, but I'd also be near the ocean…and far, far away from the suffocating traffic, crime, and pollution that Atlanta was becoming increasingly known for.

The slow death of the sweet momentum of moving

Less than a month after the decision to move had crystallized in my mind, I was picking up the keys to my new home: a cute 1940s bungalow in Jacksonville. Mika was right: I needed to do something big. And I had! It felt good. I was starting to feel like myself again; packing up your whole life and starting over somewhere new tends to have that effect.

The momentum I had gained from my whirlwind cross-state move carried over into the first month or so of my new adventure. Between unpacking and decorating the new house, impulsively adopting a new puppy (my dog really needed a friend — and I had a backyard now!), spending time with my daughter, and exploring my very cool, walkable neighborhood, the heaviness of Atlanta felt like a distant memory. I was relieved; a fresh start was exactly what I needed.

As the weeks passed, however, I found myself dipping back into the old habits I so desperately wanted to leave behind. When my daughter was with me, I felt energized and excited to explore our new backyard. We went to the comic book store, walked along the beach, and made it our mission to find the best boba tea in the city.

But when it was just me? My solo walks to a neighborhood bar felt less adventurous and more sad. The yoga class I was so sure I'd make friends at seemed to only amplify how lonely I felt. It was like everywhere I went, that same dark cloud I had tried to leave behind was hanging over my head; eventually, it just felt easier to be alone.

Feeling lonely? You're not alone.

There is a serious loneliness epidemic in America — and it's comparable to the scale of the opioid and obesity epidemics. A 2020 study from Harvard reported that "36% of all Americans — including 61% of young adults and 51% of mothers with young children — feel "serious loneliness." Even now, after the global pandemic has ended, 58% of Americans report feeling lonely consistently.

Here's the thing about loneliness. It is a vicious cycle: the more isolated you feel, the harder it becomes to connect with others. The less connection you have, the more hyper aware you are of the distance between you and other people. And the more highlighted that distance becomes in your mind, the harder it is to break the cycle and reach out for connection.

What I've learned in the 4 months since I moved to a new city

1. Wherever you go, there you are.

It's so easy to think that if only you lived somewhere with more [insert desire of your choice] or less [fill in the blank with whatever ails you about your current geography], then you'd finally make real friends. Or find the love of your life. Or be successful. Or be so busy exploring that you won't binge watch an entire season of Ozark in one day.

The sad reality is that a new location won't do you much good if you don't also develop a new mindset and new habits. While your environment might be all shiny and new, the key ingredient to making real, lasting change in your life is you.

2. Making friends is a lot like dating.

Dating is a numbers game. You go out with a variety of different people, with the hope that, eventually, you'll meet someone that you vibe with on *that* level…and who vibes with you. Making friends is the same. You're going to hang out with potential friends that you just don't vibe with like that, whether because your lifestyles aren't the right fit or your personalities don't mesh well. There will be some friend dates that are an immediate nope, from one or both of you, for whatever reason. Other potential friends will seem full of possibility, only to never really go anywhere. That's totally normal…and healthy.

You have to put yourself out there…again and again and again. Sometimes, it can be fun. A lot of the time, it kinda sucks. But if you keep at it, you are bound to meet a friend or two (and, really, that's all you need!) that feel like your people (yay!).

3. Building meaningful friendships as an adult is hard, but it's not impossible.

As a self-employed, work-from-home person squarely in adulthood, I can attest to the fact that it is not easy to make friends. Everyone is busy with work, family commitments, and generally trying to keep all of their many plates spinning. When you finally do meet someone that you vibe with and want to become friends with, the real work begins: coordinating schedules and actually making the time and effort to hang out.

Because rejection is never fun, our brains will try to protect us by convincing us that the other person doesn't really want to hang out with us, and that we shouldn't come off as needy by being the one to follow up on plans.

Don't fall for it. Invite them over. Put in the effort. Show up as the kind of friend you'd like to have. Yes, it's hard. But being perpetually lonely is much, much harder.

4. People like you way more than you think they do.

An article published on Vice called, The 'Liking Gap' Might Be Why You Wonder if People Secretly Hate You, paints a painfully familiar scene:

"You and a new acquaintance (or perhaps even an old friendquaintance that you haven't seen in a long time) are having a normal conversation, going back and forth about some topic, just shooting the breeze. The conversation has an agreeable tone. I am totally nailing this interaction, you think to yourself amid the nods and smiles. You part ways, satisfied. Hours to days later, a new thought creeps into your head. Ugh, I really shouldn't have said that thing about the thing. You can't stop replaying the conversation over and over, picking out moments where you sounded like a babbling baby. You ultimately land on the unfortunate conclusion that so-and-so thinks you're a huge dummy who doesn't know how to converse."

This scenario is an all too common occurrence for the majority of us. Thankfully, research has found that not only are we overthinking it, but that most people have the same thought process after talking with a new person. The phenomenon is called "the liking gap" and, ACCORDING TO SCIENCE, people actually like you way more than you think they do. Keep that in mind the next time you hesitate to send that "it was so great meeting you!" text. Chances are, hearing from you will only soothe the other person's fear and take you one step closer to friendship.

5. Vulnerability goes a long way when it comes to new friendships.

I wanted to play it so cool when I first moved. Like yeah, I just moved here and I'm living my best life, making all the friends, and doing all the things. Because who doesn't want to be friends with someone who is making all the friends and doing all the things??

But what I've come to learn (or, relearn, in this case), is that vulnerability is a superpower. The more honest I am about who I am and where I'm at, the easier it is for people to get to know the real me…and the more likely it is that they're going to want to know me more.

To be clear, you don't need to trauma dump all over your new friends. You can be vulnerable without oversharing; it's just a matter of showing up authentically in your interactions with friends and giving them a chance to get to know who you are as a messy, imperfect, but still totally lovable human being!

I'm just four months into this new Florida adventure and, in the spirit of vulnerability, I'll admit that I'm still getting the hang of this whole making new friends thing. The internal battle between Netflix and wine alone with my pups and putting effort into meeting new people is real. But what I can say is this: there hasn't been one single time that I regretted putting myself out there to try and make new friends. Even if you don't walk away with a new bestie, chances are you'll feel good for having made a connection or, at the very least, learned something about yourself. Win-win.