Appalachia Girl on the Road

Just about five years ago, I decided, after finally leaving my longtime job that had a ridiculously detrimental impact on my mental health, to do the thing I had told people for years that I was going to do: move to Florida.

I made my plans and went down for three months to try to find a place to live. I knew absolutely no one there. I was completely alone for like the first time ever. When you basically never leave the area where you grew up, you’re really never alone. There’s always someone around that you know.

I’m not gonna lie, I was terrified. Up until that point, I had always been the person that did the safe thing, the expected thing, the never-step-out-of-your-comfort-zone thing. I was always scared of making the wrong move and messing up my entire life, so I just never made ANY move. Until then.

I had so many people tell me I’d never make it, I’d never be able to handle being that far away from everyone and everything I’d ever known before in my life. And hearing that so much, I don’t think I would have ever gone back to Ohio to live, no matter how miserable I was, just because I had to prove them all wrong.

Luckily, I wasn’t miserable. I loved it. I went to the beach at least three or four days a week, sometimes more. I wasn’t lonely. I missed people, but not enough to ever go back permanently.

I found a place to live mere days before I had to go back to Ohio. I had a month until move in.