Astra Aeternum X

I’ve moved more times than I can count.

Some moves were strategic. Following a job opportunity, seeking better weather, testing out a new city that looked promising online. Some moves were desperate. Fleeing a place that was slowly suffocating me. Some moves were impulsive. I got bored and needed a change, so I packed up and left.

But here’s what I’ve realized after all these relocations: moving works for some people, and it genuinely doesn’t work for others. And that’s not a judgment. It’s just the truth.

Most of the people I know moved once. When they left their childhood home for college or their first job. And then they stopped moving. They put down roots. They bought houses. They built lives in one place. And when I mention my latest move, they look at me with genuine confusion and say, “I don’t know how you do it.”

The honest answer? I don’t know how they do it.

The thought of driving the same roads, shopping at the same stores, talking to the same people, living in the same place for the rest of my life makes me feel claustrophobic. It feels like a slow death. Not dramatic, just a gradual dimming of possibility. I would go insane.

But I also understand that my wiring is not universal. Some people would go equally insane with constant change.

So if you’re reading this because you’re considering a move, maybe there’s a better job opportunity, maybe you’ve always wondered what it would be like to live somewhere else, maybe something in your current situation doesn’t quite fit. This is for you. Not to convince you to move, but to help you understand whether moving is actually aligned with who you are.

Why People Move (And It’s Not Always About Geography)

When we talk about moving, we usually frame it in practical terms: a job opportunity, better schools, lower cost of living, proximity to family, climate preferences.

Those are all real factors. But they’re not the whole story.

Some people move because they’re running toward something. They have a vision of a different life, and they’re willing to uproot themselves to pursue it. They see a city and imagine themselves there. They research neighborhoods obsessively. They’re excited about the possibility of reinvention.

Other people move because they’re running away from something. The place they’re in has become intolerable. The weather is making them depressed, the job market is dead, the community doesn’t align with their values, the relationship that kept them there has ended.

I’ve experienced both motivations. The “toward” moves feel different from the “away” moves. The “toward” moves are energizing. The “away” moves are necessary but often leave a residue of grief.

But there’s a third category that I don’t think gets discussed enough: people who move because they are constitutionally wired to need change.

These are the people, like me, who can’t stay in one place for too long without feeling restless. It’s not that the place is bad. It’s not that something is wrong. It’s that something feels static. We need novelty. We need the stimulation of learning a new city. We need the challenge of building new routines and making new friends. We need the growth that comes from stepping into unfamiliar territory.

This isn’t better than the opposite wiring. It’s just different.

What Moving Actually Does (Beyond the Obvious)

When you move, the surface level things are obvious: new address, new commute, new grocery store.

But the deeper shifts are where the real transformation happens.

Moving forces you to edit your life. You can’t take everything with you. You have to decide what actually matters. I’ve moved enough times to know that we accumulate stuff out of inertia, not necessity. Every move is an opportunity to shed what’s not serving you. And here’s the thing: you never regret giving things away. You just regret carrying them with you.

Moving dissolves your fixed identity. When you stay in one place, you become a specific version of yourself to that community. You’re the person with that job, that friend group, that reputation, those habits. When you move, all of that context disappears. You get to decide who you become. You can be braver. You can try things you never would have tried in your old city because nobody there knows the old you.

Moving expands your perspective radically. When you’ve lived in multiple places, you start to see that the way things are done in your home place is not the way things have to be done. People in Wisconsin are friendly in a completely different way than people in California. The food is different. The relationship to time is different. The pace of life is different. The way communities form is different. You realize that reality is not fixed. It’s culturally constructed. And that realization changes how you move through the world permanently.

Moving teaches you that you’re more adaptable than you thought. The first time you move somewhere completely foreign, the first time you navigate an unfamiliar city, make friends from scratch, figure out new systems, it’s genuinely hard. But you do it. And then you realize: I can do hard things. I can build a life anywhere. I can handle uncertainty. That’s not a small thing. That’s foundational confidence that stays with you forever.

Moving introduces you to versions of yourself you didn’t know existed. I’m a different person in different cities. Not fundamentally different. My core values are the same. But my expression is different. In some places, I’m more social. In others, I’m more introspective. I like different things. I prioritize different activities. I become different versions of myself based on what each place calls out in me. That richness, knowing all those versions of yourself, is genuinely valuable.

What Staying in One Place Actually Offers (And It’s Not Nothing)

But here’s where I need to be honest: there are real, significant benefits to staying in one place that get overlooked in our culture that valorizes novelty and experience.

Deep roots create stability. When you’ve been in one place for decades, you have a genuine community. Not just acquaintances. Actual people who know you deeply, who have history with you, who will show up for you in crisis. You have institutional knowledge. You know which doctors are good, which restaurants are worth the hype, which neighborhoods are changing, which schools are best. That knowledge is valuable.

Long term projects become possible. You can’t build a thriving garden in a year. You can’t develop a genuine craft or skill in the time it takes to learn a new city. You can’t write a book while you’re emotionally processing a move. Long term projects require stability. They require the luxury of not having to figure out where the grocery store is. If you have deep goals that take years to accomplish, building a business, mastering a skill, creating something meaningful, then staying in one place is an advantage.

Fewer experiences, but deeper experiences. This is the trade off nobody talks about. When you move frequently, you have breadth. You’ve lived in 10 cities. You’ve experienced 10 different cultures. You have stories from everywhere. But you also have less depth. You never became really good friends with that interesting person because you moved after two years. You never saw a community project through to completion because you left before it was finished. You never got to be someone’s mentor or the person everyone calls when they need advice.

Community contribution becomes meaningful. In one place, over many years, you can actually change things. You can be the person who started the neighborhood garden. You can be on the school board. You can mentor young people. You can invest in institutions and see them grow. You can leave a legacy in a place. That’s a different kind of fulfillment than the stimulation of constant change.

Grounding has real psychological benefits. There’s something about having roots that’s deeply stabilizing. Even if you’re moving toward something, there’s often a grief in leaving. But when you stay, you get to experience the opposite. The deepening of connection, the sense of belonging, the confidence that comes from being truly known by your community.

So How Do You Know If You Should Move?

Here’s the thing: it’s not actually about whether the new place is “better.” It’s not even primarily about practical factors like jobs or weather, though those matter.

It’s about whether staying still or moving forward aligns with who you are.

Ask yourself these questions.

What happens to your energy when you imagine living in the same place for 10 more years? Does it feel grounding and peaceful? Or does it feel like a slow suffocation? Your gut response matters more than your logical analysis.

How do you typically respond to problems in your current situation? Do you try to solve them and build something better? Or do you fantasize about leaving? People who are wired for moving often reach for the escape hatch. People who are wired for staying often reach for solutions.

What excites you more: mastery or novelty? Do you get fulfillment from becoming deeply expert at something, from knowing your community intimately, from the compound benefits of long term investment? Or do you get energy from learning new systems, meeting new people, experiencing new things? Neither is better. They’re just different.

How do you respond to boredom? Some people respond to boredom by going deeper. Getting more involved in their community, taking up new hobbies, building new projects. Others respond to boredom by leaving. If you’re in the second category, staying in one place is going to be genuinely hard.

What’s the quality of your discomfort right now? Are you uncomfortable because something fundamental isn’t working? The job market is dead, you’re in a toxic relationship, you’re depressed because of the weather? Or are you uncomfortable because you’ve gotten used to things and want stimulation? The first kind of discomfort is often solved by moving. The second kind of discomfort usually just moves with you to the next place.

Do you have unfinished projects or relationships? If you leave right now, would you regret not seeing something through? Or are you genuinely ready for a new chapter?

The Reality Check: When Moving Doesn’t Solve the Problem

Here’s something nobody warns you about: sometimes you move, and you realize the problem was you, not the place.

I’ve moved to cities that looked perfect online. The pictures were beautiful. The weather was supposed to be amazing. The job market seemed vibrant. The food scene looked incredible. And then I got there and discovered that none of it was as good as it looked on the internet. The shops weren’t where I expected them to be. The restaurants I wanted to try had closed years ago. The community I thought I’d find didn’t actually exist the way I imagined it.

But worse, sometimes I moved and realized that what I was actually running from couldn’t be escaped through geography.

I moved to Wisconsin for a job opportunity, and the depression that followed wasn’t about Wisconsin. Well, it was partially about Wisconsin and the relentless winter. But it was also about my own internal struggle with isolation and disconnection. When I left Wisconsin, I thought I was leaving the problem behind. I wasn’t. I was just moving my problem to a new location.

That’s the harsh truth about moving that people don’t talk about: you take yourself with you. If you’re depressed, moving might help, but it won’t cure depression. If you’re lonely, moving might offer new opportunities for connection, but it won’t automatically make you less lonely. If you’re struggling with anxiety, a new city won’t suddenly make anxiety disappear.

Sometimes moving is exactly what you need. It breaks you out of a stagnant pattern. It forces you to grow. It introduces you to new possibilities you couldn’t have imagined before.

Sometimes moving is just changing your scenery while your actual problems follow you to the new address.

The only way to know which one it is: honest self reflection before you move. What are you actually moving toward? What are you running from? Is the thing you’re running from location based? Or is it you?

For Those Considering Their First Big Move

If most of the people you know settled after one move, and you’re wondering if you should be the one to move again, here’s my truth.

Maybe you should. Maybe the next place will be exactly what you’re looking for. The right community, the right job, the right energy. Maybe you’ll arrive and feel like you’re finally home. Maybe that move will change your life in ways you can’t predict right now.

Or maybe you’ll get there and realize it’s not what you imagined. Maybe the shops aren’t as good as they looked online. Maybe the people aren’t as friendly. Maybe the job didn’t work out. Maybe the weather was only part of the problem. Maybe you moved and discovered that you were running from something internal, not external.

I’ve experienced both. I’ve moved to places that were absolutely right for that chapter of my life. And I’ve moved to places that seemed perfect and turned out to be completely wrong. Both moves taught me something.

But here’s what I know: if you’re wired like me, if you need change, if you need novelty, if you need to experience different versions of yourself, then not moving would be a slow suffocation. It would be choosing a comfortable prison over an uncertain adventure.

And if you’re wired the opposite way, if you thrive on depth, community, mastery, and roots, then staying would be the wise choice. Constant moving would be exhausting rather than energizing.

The key is knowing which one you are.

And if you’re still not sure, that’s okay. Sometimes you have to move to find out. Sometimes you have to stay to find out.

But at least make the choice consciously. Don’t move because you think you’re supposed to. And don’t stay because you’re afraid. Do it because it’s aligned with who you actually are.

---

And if you do decide to move? If you’re wired for change and you’re ready to take that leap?

That’s where real preparation matters.

Because moving is hard enough without being disorganized. The logistics alone can break you if you’re not strategic. Which is why I created my 6 Month Moving Guide and Journal to handle all the practical complexity while you focus on the emotional and energetic aspects of the transition.

This guide breaks down everything you need to know about moving. From the first decision through six months of settling in. Comprehensive checklists, packing strategies organized by move type, inventory systems, and space to process the emotional journey.

Because whether you’re a person who moves frequently or someone taking a big leap for the first time, you deserve a system that makes the process less painful.

Get your copy here: https://amzn.to/49Gq6kp