When you decide to start a new life, there are a few things you’ll need. First, the essentials: a job, a roof over your head, and a supply of groceries to last your first few days, at least. Everyone knows this, but few consider the most important thing: a reason why you want to uproot your life and plant it somewhere new in the first place.

Your why is a lot like a snowflake; no two reasons are the same. You might have outgrown your old city like a sweater you used to wear as a child. Maybe your fearless soul couldn’t resist the call of the unknown. Maybe your current city is freezing, and you hate the cold, so you move to that cute beachside town like you always wanted. Love, a new career, fulfilling a bucket list item – your why doesn’t matter, but it has to be strong enough to anchor you, something to pick you up when you fall (which you will. Many times).

Do you have a why? Is it so clear that you’re sure about hitting that “book now” button for your one-way ticket? Good. You’re basically there, but there’s something you have to do, something you won’t find on a typical packing list. You have to make peace with all the unknowns before you go. You might meet your best friend the day you arrive, or it might take you months before you meet someone you actually click with. You might find your dream apartment, or you might only be able to afford a tiny place twenty minutes outside of town. You might love your new city, or you might find yourself grappling with nostalgia for longer than you’d like to admit.

Starting a new life is like playing a game of cards: you will never really know what hand you’ll be dealt until, well, you’re dealt it, and you can only play it to the best of your ability. Once you’ve thought of all the ‘what ifs’, let them go. You won’t know what will happen in your new life, unfortunately, until you’ve lived it. So, when the doubt creeps in, paint a picture of all the wild possibilities: a dream job, lifelong friends, a space to call your own.

Pack lightly: a carry-on and a checked bag with only your most treasured belongings and the absolute essentials will do. Tuck pictures of your family and friends on the top of your bag, in the zip-up part so they don’t get lost. A case of homesickness happens to even the most adventurous of us. Bring very basic clothes: a white tee shirt and a pair of jeans will do just fine. Part of the fun of starting over is hitting the reset button on your style, but for now, you only need enough clothing to get by. 

When you unlock the door to your new apartment, expect it to be empty for a while. You’ll eat standing at your bar until you get some chairs, and you’ll keep your clothes folded on your closet shelf before you can get a dresser. I highly recommend picking up a bouquet of flowers to bring life to your empty space. A speaker to play your favorite songs will also help. Music will echo off the bare walls until artwork can take its place.

Before you know it, you’ll have a chair, then two. You’ll have a mattress and a place to hang your jacket when it gets cold. Slowly, you’ll accumulate plants; your window sill will be lined with them. Believe it or not, there will be a point where your space looks like a home, or at least like someone lives there. 

Once you have the basics covered, you’ll need a hobby. Preferably one that involves other people. Definitely something that you love. If you’re still figuring out what that is, at least pick something to keep you active, something to fulfill your artistic side, or something to keep you social. 

Find a coffee shop. One that’s busy, but not too busy. Smile at the barista and keep going until they know your order: iced coffee with oat milk. Pick your favorite corner and sit in the same spot each time you arrive. Bring a book to read, do some writing, or just people-watch for an hour or so. Becoming a regular means you have a place to go, a sanctuary to escape your busiest days.

As a kid, you were probably told not to talk to strangers. Frankly, this is terrible advice that’s never served me as an adult. When you’re starting a new life, you have to talk to strangers.  A lot of them. Tell the girl who sits next to you on the bus you like her shoes. Say hello to the cashier at Trader Joe’s. Thank the bus driver before stepping off the bus. When you leave the house, lose the headphones. The silence might be loud at first, but you never know how the world will surprise you when you engage with it. 

Wanting to put your best foot forward when talking to new people is completely normal. Smile, be warm, and do your best, but remember to be human. Embrace the laughter that occasionally makes its appearance when you’re nervous. Allow yourself to not have the answers. When someone asks you how you’re doing, be honest. There is beauty in unveiling the weariness of a long week or a commute gone wrong.

Keep a routine. Go for a walk in the same spot every day: it’ll be the thing that grounds you. It’s okay if you need to rely on Google Maps a little longer than you’d like to admit. Slowly, you’ll recognize the steeple of the neighborhood church or the familiar scent of the local bakery. Make the spaghetti sauce recipe you loved as a kid. Take comfort in the smell of garlic sizzling in olive oil. Facetime your hometown best friend every Sunday. Send your Wordle results to your favorite people. Most importantly, remember when to ditch the routine when plans arise – routine will keep you grounded, but spontaneity is what the best memories are made of.

Starting a new life sounds glamorous before you do it. Your Pinterest board has a way of capturing the allure of glistening cities and tall skyscrapers that seems inviting. Soon, you’ll realize every day isn’t going to be exciting, cool, or even interesting. You’re going to have feelings about this reality check. Lots of feelings. Mostly mixed. 

And there will be dishes in the sink.

And there will be doctor’s appointments to make.

And there will be bank accounts to open.

And there will be laundry to fold.

Sometimes, it will hit you that you made a drastically life-altering move. It will hit when you’re running errands on a Sunday afternoon when you wonder, “Was leaving everything I’ve ever known really, truly worth it?”. This sort of unanswerable question hits the hardest in the produce aisle of your local grocery store, or when you’re sitting at your desk at 10:30 on a Tuesday morning.

But then you’ll remember this is the life you chose, and you wouldn’t trade it, not even for the familiarity of your old one. You remember your eight-year-old self, full of curiosity and wonder about the world. Then, you remember your fifteen-year-old self fantasizing about moving across the country like the characters in her favorite books. You’ll remember yourself this time last year, when life after school felt confusing and frustrating, and moving to a city felt like an impossible pipe dream. You smile. This life, with its bills, laundry, and doctor’s appointments, is indeed confusing and frustrating. It’s imperfect, but it’s proudly yours.

I can’t promise when it will be, but there will be a day when an acquaintance recognizes you on your daily walk, a day when you no longer have to rely on Google Maps for basic errands. There will be a day when you laugh at an inside joke alongside your coworkers. Or maybe that day will come when you book your ticket home, and you realize maybe your hometown wasn’t so bad after all. Now you can actually appreciate the home that raised you every bit as much as the new home you’ve created. These seemingly tiny moments can only mean one thing, and that thing is pretty monumental: you did it. You successfully started a new life.