i moved back to the east coast.

if you’ve only known me as a face on your screen, this might come as a shock. naturally, on social media, i was the poster child for the word “thriving.” i moved to california—from western pennsylvania—when i was eighteen, hell-bent on starting a new life for myself. i traveled a lot. i learned a lot. and i grew a lot.

i met people that changed my life. i experienced things that i never would’ve had i not left. i lived four years of my life with blue skies and 75-degree weather, under palm trees, and in the pacific ocean. and it all changed me. like, a shit ton.

sometimes it feels like my life in california was a dream: some idyllic parallel universe that i conjured up in my brain, where an alternate version of me lived for four years. it feels like a different life lived by a different person. to this day, i keep having this feeling that i’ll wake up to my alarm clock in my childhood bedroom on my first day of high school or something—like my life up until this point was just a really, really realistic lucid dream. i always get the weirdest dreams after i eat sushi.

for a while, i thought there was no way in hell i would move back to pennsylvania. maybe new york. maybe boston. hell, maybe even philadelphia (my mom would’ve murdered me). but western pennsylvania? no f*cking way.

so, imagine my own shock as i’m writing this—sitting at my kitchen table in pittsburgh, pennsylvania.

i’ve talked to a few people here and there since moving into the city. and if the conversation goes on for long enough, i typically mention that i just moved here.

“oh, where from?”

“well, i lived in southern california for the past four years, but i grew up in beaver county. it’s like an hour or so away.”

the reaction is the same every time.

“why did you move back…here?“

the disgusted “here” gets me every time because i’ve learned something about western pennsylvanians that i never found true about socal folks: western pennsylvanians are humble to a fault.

i’m not saying that southern californians are these ego-maniacal narcissists, but they don’t view their home as a place to move away from. to them, southern california is the place that everyone aspires to end up at: sure, it’s got its problems, but at least the weather is stunning and the beach is nearby, right?

western pennsylvanians (typically) don’t think like that. western pa is a place to move away from, a place everyone hopes to someday leave for somewhere like southern california. they say “you moved back here?” as if here (pittsburgh, western pa, wherever) is an infected spore on the u.s. map.

for most of my life, i thought the same way.

i hated western pennsylvania. i couldn’t fathom why people moved to pittsburgh. why my friends loved it so much. why generations of people stay here and go to pirates games and eat french fries on their salads, especially when places like southern california exist. four years ago, i would’ve said here with that same disgusted tone.

but like i said, i changed a lot. and i realized that here really isn’t so bad. like, at all. in fact, i actually might love it more here than i did there.

it took a lot for me to get to this point. after leaving california, i had these voices in my head telling me that i was a quitter for moving somewhere so close to home. i was an absolute failure for choosing to move back east. i was stupid for wasting so much time and money going to school in california, especially when i wasn’t staying post-grad. i was an idiot for not just going to pitt, or something. and, ultimately, the voice in my head told me that i was making the biggest mistake of my life by leaving.

but it wasn’t just the voices in my head. it was the people, too. people in southern california that wondered why the hell i would choose pittsburgh over socal. people in pittsburgh that wondered why the f*ck i would leave sunny, glamorous california for a city only 45-minutes (without traffic!) from where i grew up. my anxiety made me feel like, in everyone’s eyes, i was a failure.

i let these feelings consume me. i found myself planning my next move away from western pennsylvania before i even moved into my new apartment. i kept telling myself that pittsburgh was a temporary stop, a bathroom break, a geographic lily pad on the way to a bigger city like nyc where i could feel successful. i liked feeling successful: i liked being the girl who moved to los angeles (i lived in the oc but like, whatever). i liked that people thought i was thriving, and training to become some big hollywood hot-shot. and by moving back east, i felt like this whole image i created collapsed. i was no longer the girl who moved to los angeles. i would forever be known as the girl who gave up and moved back to buttf*ck pennsylvania.

here’s the thing with like, all of that. it’s not true.

sometimes, we try new things. and sometimes, we don’t like them. could be as simple as trying mezcal shots instead of tequila, or as big as moving somewhere new. at the end of the day, it’s all about our tastes. and we have to do what makes ourselves happy—even if there are people who like mezcal more than tequila (seriously though, what’s wrong with you), it’s not anyone else’s job to order for them.

although it’s only an hour from where i grew up, pittsburgh is a fresh start for me. i never grew up going into the city, and the first time i went anywhere but the convention center was when i was a junior in college. i’ve never lived in the city with one of my best friends, and my others just a few minutes away. i’ve never been able to meet my boyfriend for dinner and hang out after work whenever we want. here is new to me. and while i’ve only been here for a few weeks, i’m starting to think i love it here.

so, that’s it. that’s the update. i moved to california, i wanted to leave after four years, and i did. i moved to pittsburgh and i still hang out with the same group of friends from high school. i work remotely at my dream job. i can drive home to see my parents and am close enough to see my brothers whenever i find the time. i can still talk to my friends in california too, it’s just different now. they visited this past week and my heart has not been this full in a while. it’s confusing and new and lovely all at once.

and i chose to do this for me: not for people of either coast. because, frankly, i don’t give a f*ck about anyone else’s perception of me anymore.

i love it here. and will i love it forever? who’s to say?

all i know is, for now, i’m happy here. and that’s reason enough to celebrate.