Moving and Mental Health: How I Rebuilt Routine, Care, and Connection
Posted on: 3/13/26
Posted by: Courtney
Growing up, I learned and internalized an optimal path for life to follow: 1) graduate high school, 2) attend college, 3) move out on my own, and 4) start a career. I always considered myself to be Miss Independent, and the thought of living on my own was one of the more exciting steps within early adulthood. I dreamt of living with my friends, designing my apartment aesthetic, and exploring a new place. Now that I’m finally there, how hard could it be?
Moving to a new city can be very challenging – emotionally, financially, socially, and logistically. I moved out of my parents’ home last year after graduating college, at the age of 23. Moving to a new city often involves leaving behind established support systems and social networks. This breakdown of connection can feel particularly challenging when combined with other major life transitions, such as graduating college or starting a new job. Moving also poses practical challenges in establishing new routines and navigating unfamiliar surroundings. I didn’t even consider the dozens of new tasks – finding a new doctor, knowing where the best place to get my morning coffee is, where the cheapest gas station is nearby, setting up utility bills, and even memorizing my new zip code. Amidst the throes of this all, young adults face pressures to “have it all together” via social media; scrolling through Instagram or LinkedIn can lead to a downward spiral of comparison.
As a young adult living with mental health conditions, I have historically struggled with change. I live with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and moving to a new city broke down my sense of routine and sense of control over my surroundings. I am also someone who often recharges from others; I maintained a large social circle in grade school and college and was always busy with extracurriculars. For me, human interaction is energizing and provides me with a sense of comfort and connection. I suddenly found myself alone more than not, and I didn’t know how to cope with that at first. Coupled with worsening seasonal depression in the fall and winter, the shorter days dragged my mood even lower. This is when the leases typically start in the city I moved to, so the seasonal shift aligned with my first few months in the city. Needless to say, it was a formula for hardship.
The point of this blog post is to show that moving to a new place while living with a mental health condition presents its own challenges, and this is how I navigated the transition. I hope folks can take away a few tips and tricks!
Identify what you enjoy, and use that to find community
Since I spent much more time alone, I began to tap into my hobbies to fill my free time. For me, this was crocheting, reading, and weightlifting. While it was great to have more time to do things that bring me joy, I was definitely lonely. Thus, I joined a book club through my coworker, started going to group fitness classes, and attended a weekly fiber arts social hour at a local art store. I tried to think outside the box, too, beyond my established hobbies. I enjoy being active and wanted to make more friends, so I joined an adult kickball league. At first, it felt random, and I was nervous, but with an open mind, I ended up enjoying it and signing up for another season. I still keep in touch with several folks from both of those leagues, and even regularly frequent trivia nights with some of them.
I consider my own identity as well when seeking out spaces and offering bids for connection with similar folks. As a queer woman, I follow various social media accounts that highlight local events specifically for the LGBTQIA+ community in my area or social groups to join. This is crucial for me when seeking connection with other queer folks, as being in shared spaces with each other is something that brings me a lot of comfort and joy. I love being in a physical space that celebrates queerness, whether that’s a sapphic night at a local bar or queer kickboxing classes at a local park.
Pay attention to and prioritize transitions in care
For both physical and mental healthcare, moving often requires changes in care. This may not be relevant for folks moving locally or those who use online services, but for me, it was an extra thing to plan for. A continuation of care plan was crucial, and unfortunately, it was a missed step in hindsight. I made the mistake of waiting until it was too late with seasonal depression in full swing. I wish I had been more proactive about my care plan and sought out providers before I even moved. This is crucial when facing potential waitlists for local therapists and the bureaucratic barriers with getting a new provider of any kind. It took me several months to find a new therapist for these reasons. In the interim, I tapped into peer models of support, such as attending a local young adult support group for those with mood disorders. Peer support is a valuable part of my support model, and accessing this space helped keep me connected to other young folks navigating similar transitions.
To specifically address my seasonal depression without my core social network in place yet, I relied on movement and fresh air. The path along the river became my sanctuary – no matter how cold it was, I would walk, listen to music, and admire the beautiful city skyline. This emphasized the importance of taking care of my physical well-being to fuel my mind and soul.
Don’t be afraid to do things solo
With a smaller social circle and friends with busy lives and competing interests in their schedules, I stopped waiting for other people to be available to do the things I wanted to and to explore. This could be going to a new coffee shop, doing a workshop at the library, or checking out a new exhibit at a museum– activities that I previously preferred to do with someone else. Over time, I learned that I actually LOVE and prefer doing certain things alone, such as seeing live music. I’ve gone to so many concerts over the last year, primarily by myself. I do many independent activities now, and I almost look forward to my solo weekend adventures. I often go for a walk or run, go to the library, window shop, and get a coffee and a sweet treat, and just enjoy my solitude. This actually leaves me feeling recharged and proud of myself, which in turn boosts my confidence and mood. I have a healthy balance now of alone time and social time, which is something I lacked prior to this stage of my life.
Remember that you are not alone in this, and that it’s a process
So many young adults are new to the city and want to meet people. There are countless Facebook groups, Meetup groups, Bumble BFF profiles, or even programs such as Livvi or Time Left to match up with potentially compatible friends. Programs like this were hit or miss for me in building lasting connections, but they led me to a few high-quality friendships that made the trial-and-error worth it. Over time, it’s easy to compare my progress of early adulthood with others online, whether it be seeing an Instagram post of someone’s entire new friend group or seeing on LinkedIn that someone started medical school, a prestigious fellowship, a master’s program, et cetera. When I get notably overwhelmed by this, I take short social media breaks (24-48 hours) to reset and be more present in my own life. I remind myself that the jumble of emotions I feel throughout this transition are completely normal, establishing routines takes time, and it’s not going to be perfect. This process of comparison and self-doubt might evoke similar emotions that I experience due to my mental health condition, such as anxiety and hopelessness, so it’s especially important to tap into the coping skills I’ve strengthened over time.
As of now, I have been living in the city for nearly a year and a half. My time here has had ups and downs, but I have found my footing with my social life, routines, and work-life balance. I will always continue to seek out new ways to build community (as a chronic social butterfly), while also taking care of myself and my mental health. My roommate and I started hosting monthly dinner parties several months ago, integrating the new characters in our lives with each other to make intentional time together and help others make new friends as well. It has become one of my favorite parts of living here because whether someone has a mental health condition or not, moving to a new city and growing community is difficult. I see it as our way to pay it forward and have a delicious meal while doing so.
