My boyfriend and I moved from Minnesota to Oregon on a whim. I hated it for the first year, but I stuck it out anyway.

"I was ready to settle in and call Minneapolis home for the rest of my life. I built a community I loved, and had my little routines down pat. I biked to sunrise yoga at Lake Harriet in the summer, grabbed countless loaves of sourdough from my favorite bakery across the street, and joined an adult swim team at my local community pool each week."

"So when my boyfriend suggested that we move across the country, I surprised even myself by agreeing immediately. I love to travel, hike, and spend time outside, and we had friends on the West Coast, so we thought it would be a fun adventure. We both had fully remote jobs at the time, so we didn't even need to think about finding work, which made the decision that much easier."

"Although we had friends in Oregon, it still proved harder than we thought to establish a genuine sense of community. We lived in an apartment in the suburbs of Portland that I hated, and I desperately missed my friends and my neighborhood in Minneapolis. We attended the events that we were invited to, but something just wasn't clicking. I started to think something was wrong with me."

After living most of life in Minnesota, I agreed to move to Oregon for outdoor opportunities and friends on the West Coast while keeping remote jobs. Established routines, close family ties, and neighborhood rituals were left behind. The first six months in Oregon brought homesickness, dislike of a suburban Portland apartment, and difficulty forming meaningful connections despite attending events and having existing acquaintances. Doubts grew about the move. Faced with isolation, I worked to rebuild confidence and deliberately put myself out there. That effort led to new community ties and a renewed appreciation for Oregon.

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