Today marks one year since I moved to Buffalo.
I’ve been thinking about this anniversary for weeks, wondering how I’d answer what feels like the obvious question: Was it the right decision?
The answer is yes.
Will I live here for the rest of my life? I honestly don’t know. If my track record is any indication, I seem to have a habit of reinventing my life every 10 to 12 years. But for this chapter, Buffalo has been exactly what I needed.
What’s funny is that I wasn’t really looking for Buffalo specifically.
I was just looking for a life; don’t worry, I’ll explain.
When I realized I didn’t want to stay in Austin anymore, I spent countless nights researching where to go next. Sometimes I’d stay up until two or three in the morning comparing cities, reading neighborhood guides, looking at apartments, studying transit maps, and trying to imagine what my new, everyday life might feel like.
I knew what I wanted.
I wanted to live somewhere I could afford to enjoy life instead of simply paying to exist. I wanted to get rid of my car, experience four seasons again, feel safe, and live somewhere that aligned with my values.
Once I made that list, my options became surprisingly narrow.
People suggested I visit every city I was considering before making such a big decision. In a perfect world, I would have. But I didn’t have unlimited time or money. Eventually, I had to trust myself.
One of my personal philosophies is, “Don’t get in your own way.”
Moving across the country is a big decision, but it isn’t irreversible. I didn’t want fear to convince me to stay somewhere that no longer felt right.
Looking back now, I’m grateful I listened to myself.
What’s interesting is that, after a year, Buffalo is almost exactly what I expected, and in some ways, it’s completely different.
You can research statistics, neighborhoods, and cost of living until you’re blue in the face. You can watch YouTube videos and read blogs (and spend hours on Reddit, guilty!). But there are things you simply cannot research.
You (unfortunately) can’t Google what the wind coming off the canal feels like on a crisp October morning. You can’t predict how much joy you’ll find walking through neighborhoods lined with beautiful historic architecture. You can’t measure a city’s personality or understand its culture until you’ve actually lived there.
One of the biggest surprises has been perspective.
Before I moved here, almost every reaction I received regarding this move centered around one thing: “The snow.”
People acted like I was moving to the Arctic voluntarily!
The funny thing is, nothing anyone warned me about has really been true for me. Maybe that’s because I’m fortunate enough to work remotely and don’t have to commute through winter storms. I never would have chosen Buffalo if I had to drive to work. But last winter, one of the snowiest winters Buffalo has seen in decades, I was never snowed in.
Instead of fearing it, I found myself appreciating it.
The snow is beautiful; it transforms the city in minutes. It also gives people something to talk about, and to complain about together. If anything, it’s spring that’s tested my patience more than winter ever has (picture me cussing up a storm as I walked to lunch in May wearing my winter coat!).
It reminded me that so much of life comes down to perspective.
Some of the things I love most about Buffalo are the exact things other people dislike about it. And I’ve noticed that many of the people most shocked by my move here have never lived anywhere else. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I think leaving a place gives you a different appreciation for what makes another place feel like home.
The biggest surprise, though, wasn’t Buffalo itself; it was me.
For so much of the last decade, I lived in survival mode. I was constantly working, worrying, planning, trying to stay one step ahead. There was always another job to apply for, another freelance project to take on, another financial hurdle to clear.
But somewhere around three or four months after I moved here, something shifted.
The moving truck had been returned, all the boxes were unpacked, and my apartment finally felt like home.
And then I had this strange realization: Now what?
It sounds silly, but I genuinely didn’t know what to do with myself.
If I wasn’t constantly trying to survive, what was I supposed to do with all of that time and energy?
That question felt surprisingly uncomfortable. Slowly, though, I’ve started finding my answer.
I read more, write more, meet people, make friends, go on dates, walk everywhere, cheer for the Sabres, say yes to things, have hobbies, and have fun.
And that’s probably the biggest takeaway from this past year: Fun.
It’s not a word I would have used to describe the previous decade of my life. This year hasn’t been perfect, of course. There have still been challenges, disappointments, and plenty of uncertainty.
But underneath all of it has been something I hadn’t realized I was missing: Joy.
I also keep coming back to something I’ve noticed throughout my life.
Whenever I’ve made a decision that genuinely felt right for me, even if it didn’t make perfect sense on paper, things have had a way of working out.
Moving to Buffalo wasn’t about finding the perfect city. I’m not even sure such a place exists.
It was about giving myself permission to build a life that fit who I am now instead of trying to force myself into one that no longer did.
I don’t know where I’ll be ten years from now; maybe I’ll still be here, or maybe I won’t.
But I do know this: A year ago, I thought I was just moving across the country.
Looking back, I think I was really moving toward a different version of myself.
And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
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