• Sandra Bonola left Connecticut for the South in search of a cheaper home and more excitement.
• After living in South Carolina, she realized the South wasn't as affordable or fun as she'd hoped.
• Now back in Connecticut, Bonola said costs are higher, but she's happier.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sandra Bonola, 56, who moved from Connecticut to Charleston, South Carolina, in 2021, then to Beaufort, South Carolina, in 2023, before deciding the South wasn't right for her. The conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I am a native New Englander, born and raised in Connecticut. In late 2021, I started thinking seriously about moving. I'm an empty nester, and thanks to my remote job, I can work from anywhere in the country.

I was drawn to the South because people talked about it as if it were the promised land. The stories made it seem like it had better weather, cheaper homes, and a more affordable cost of living. I bought into that and told myself, "If I move to the South, I can have an easier life, and it won't be as expensive."

I decided to move to Charleston, South Carolina. I figured that there, I'd be outside more, near the beach, have a lower cost of living, and have access to the coast. I was also hoping for that small-town vibe and Southern charm.

I packed up the 2,500-square-foot Colonial I had lived in for 20 years and moved. I got rid of a lot of things I no longer needed and put the rest into storage.

I was really hopeful Charleston would be right for me. But about four months after moving there, I realized that almost everything I had hoped for was turning out to be the opposite.

I tested the waters in Charleston first

In Charleston, I stayed in a friend's apartment and paid rent month to month while I decided whether I wanted to buy a home there. I'm grateful for that setup because it gave me a trial period. In those four months, I learned a lot about Charleston — and about what I actually wanted.

One of the first things I noticed was that everybody seemed to be moving there. The city was crowded, and navigating the downtown area was always challenging. Its streets were also full of traffic — it would take me up to an hour to try to get to downtown Charleston from John's Island.

The city was also more expensive than I expected. I was somewhat insulated from housing costs because I was renting from my friend, but food, entertainment, and taxes were all much higher than I had anticipated.

The Southern charm I was hoping for also didn't feel as I expected. Charleston has a big "going out" culture, much of which seems to revolve around where to eat or drink. That's not really my thing. For me, the city lacked some of the creative flavor I was looking for.

The climate was another big factor. Everyone knows New England can have brutal winters, and I don't like shoveling snow, so I was eager to get away from that. But after moving South, I realized I had traded brutal winters for brutal summers. It was just so hot.

At first, I thought I just needed time to adjust. But the more I explored Charleston, the more I realized the lifestyle I had imagined didn't match my reality.

I was getting annoyed, then frustrated, and then I was done.

I tried the South again, but it still wasn't for me

I didn't feel like I had anything to lose, so I moved back to Connecticut in 2022. Instead of feeling defeated, I actually felt grateful that I had given Charleston a shot.

For a while, I rented a month-to-month beach house in Connecticut while I looked for a home to buy. But the homebuying search in New England felt bleak. I was trying to downsize, but even the smaller homes came with big-home prices. It made me feel like I might never find what I was looking for.

After house hunting for 14 months in Connecticut, I really wanted to put down roots. The idea of moving to a quieter, more affordable small town was still appealing. So in July 2023, I decided to try the South again — this time in Beaufort, South Carolina, a small town I had explored while living in Charleston.

There, I was able to purchase a beautiful three-bedroom ranch home for $425,000. It was a new build in a planned community.

The house checked a lot of boxes. It was beautiful, new, and far more affordable than what I could have bought in Connecticut. But I still didn't feel at home in Beaufort.

Affordability is important, but you also need community

In Beaufort, it was so hot that I rarely saw or interacted with my neighbors. People would say hello and then quickly go back inside. I kept thinking, "How am I ever going to socialize here?"

I joke that I'm an OG remote worker because I started working remotely in 2008. Remote work gives you some social interaction, but you still need to get outside and make real connections with people.

I tried to put myself in situations where I could meet people. I looked for yoga classes, local events, and other activities I could join. But what I found was that many people had moved there for family or moved with a spouse, and they mostly kept to themselves.

It lacked the kind of community connection I was used to seeing in the Northeast. I kept trying to make those connections and stay open to it, but it just kept falling flat.

I tell people this story, and sometimes they understand it, and sometimes they don't. But I knew I was done one morning when I woke up, looked at the ceiling fan in my bedroom, and thought, "I really hate that fan, and I'm losing hope for my life."

I didn't appreciate Connecticut's beauty until I moved back

In 2024, I moved back to Connecticut. Right now, I'm living on the coast in an apartment inside a refurbished Civil War-era hospital. I'm on one of the top floors, so I can see the boats and the water.

I'm still searching for a home and making offers with more confidence. Home prices are high here, but prices down South are creeping up, too.

I've started thinking about owning in Connecticut more as an investment in both my future and my happiness. I've set a budget of about $800,000 for a home, though some of the homes I've been interested in have been closer to $650,000.

I'm seeing possibilities I didn't see before, and that's exciting.

Being back in Connecticut has been eye-opening. I don't think I fully appreciated its beauty until I had something to compare it to.

There's so much opportunity here. I love the energy and the people. I've been taking advantage of the location, too, doing things like hopping on a train to New York to see a show or making more of an effort to connect with friends.

When I think about whether I'd move somewhere else again, I keep coming back to something a photographer once told me in Massachusetts. He had lived in Bali with his family, and I remember asking, "You lived in Bali? Why would you come to Massachusetts?"

I'll never forget what he told me. He said, "I can go anywhere in the world from an airport, but you really have to realize the ground beneath your feet is beautiful if you choose to see it that way."

That stayed with me. It changed the way I think about Connecticut and made me realize I needed to take the blinders off. There was beauty right at my feet — I just needed to see it.

• I lived with my parents for six years, until they decided to retire and downsize a year ago.
• I loved living with them and decided to move in across the street from their townhouse.
• This year was hectic, and the quality time, shared grocery costs, and pet day care were so helpful.

When I first moved in with my parents in my late 20s, I did not expect the arrangement to carry me into my mid-30s. I stayed because, although it was different from what anyone in my social circle was doing, I was surprised by how much we all enjoyed it. In this house of three adults who cared deeply about one another's well-being, my life was better than it had been in a while.

The best part, for me, was the interdependence — coming off of two years living by myself, even being able to say, "Could you make me a sandwich, too?" or "No problem, I'll get your headache meds from upstairs!" felt refreshing. I also appreciated the opportunity for unscheduled quality time and the sense that I was never completely alone.

I felt like I'd uncovered a secret, and I wondered what other iterations of housing and community I'd been missing out on. I decided to edit an anthology on the subject, which became Living, Together: Reimagining Community in the Age of Disconnection. When my parents wanted to retire and downsize after six years of, well, living together, and I had to look for my own place again, I kept everything I learned from the book's stories in mind.

Moving out of my parents' house, I imagined I'd settle in a more walkable neighborhood than the one they chose. When a townhouse opened up across the parking lot from theirs, I was reluctant to look at it. Surely I couldn't go from living with my parents in my 30s to living mere steps away. But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the prospect of continuing the casual hangs, resource sharing, and emotional support that have enriched our lives.

It's been almost a year since we became neighbors, and I think it was a great move.

We have more privacy and flexibility than when we lived together

When I lived with my parents, it was sometimes difficult for them because I needed quiet while working. Now, I can have that at my house, and my parents don't have to worry about the volume of their TV shows or phone calls.

We also don't typically stop by one another's houses constantly and unannounced, even though we live so close and have each other's house keys.

I avoid the single-person grocery curse, and they save money by sharing, too

The bane of my existence as a single person living alone is food that rots in the fridge. Lunch meat, melon, fresh mozzarella — I somehow can never eat it all.

This is the first time I've lived alone and been able to share groceries because my parents live so close by. It ensures food and money don't go to waste for either of our households.

They help me care for my cats

My 2-year-old cat spends half the day at my parents' house playing with their cats. They all have a blast, my senior cat gets much-needed rest, and I can focus on work without kitten energy around. One of my friends asked if she could drop off her energetic cat and 1-year-old son at the Rosen Family Day Care!

My senior cat has also developed chronic health conditions that make me uneasy leaving her alone for long. When I know I have to be out for more than a few hours, one of my parents checks in on her. I'm not sure what I'd do without that option, and I know they enjoy being able to visit her frequently.

My parents have been a big help during a busy year

My parents' proximity has made a world of difference, practically and emotionally, in a year where I've had tons of extra work related to my book's publication. At least one night a week, my mom arrives with leftover ziti or salad; she understands I have a lot going on, and these efforts make me feel cared for.

While I've had to decline more plans than I'd have liked to this year, I've been able to maintain the routine of having dinner and watching TV with my dad almost every Tuesday night. Even when we're tired or we start late, we make it happen because it's a 30-second walk!

Similarly, when I only have a short time to socialize, I can pop over to my parents' house for dinner (and to trim their squirmy cats' nails or weigh in on a technology mishap). When free time is too tight to see friends, my parents being so close has ensured my mental and emotional health haven't suffered.

For however long it lasts, I'm glad I'm here

I learned from working on my book that the key to reaping the benefits of communal living is flexibility. I'm aware that this is a season of my life, and I'm open to whatever living scenarios the future may hold.

Sometimes I wish I lived in an area that's within walking distance to coffee shops, libraries, artistic experiences, and friends. But I made this decision to live so close to my parents based on what I felt I needed at the time. It's been helpful, meaningful, and fun — and that was during a tough, busy year.

I'm looking forward to what the future of being neighbors with my parents will bring.

• Moving to Japan from New Zealand gave my family cheaper living and better healthcare.
• Inexpensive flights and Japan's rail network made frequent travel part of everyday life.
• Less financial stress and a slower lifestyle improved my mental health and overall quality of life

Three years ago, my family of three left New Zealand for Kobe, Japan, desperate for a total reset. We were running on empty, exhausted by skyrocketing living costs, limited career growth, and relentless financial stress.

We already loved Japan as tourists, but moving here permanently felt like a massive gamble. Instead, trading hemispheres didn't just change our coordinates; it completely rewrote our quality of life.

Same-day medical care is possible

Back in New Zealand, my husband once waited months for an MRI after a severe work injury, while I spent years and thousands of dollars chasing answers to chronic health concerns through a clogged public system.

When his back pain returned, I braced for the same exhausting delays in Japan. Instead, I laughed out loud when the clinic doctor asked if he'd prefer his MRI in three hours or later in the day, after he'd had some lunch. The total cost was just ¥6000 (around $38 USD).

While New Zealand's healthcare is technically free, accessibility was often the real issue. I now feel an enormous sense of relief knowing affordable and timely care is available when we need it. My 10-year-old daughter's monthly pediatric specialist appointments cost just ¥280 — less than $2 USD.

Ditching our car improved our lives

We don't own a car, so movement is embedded in our daily life. Between train stations, school runs, and grocery trips, I easily clear 10,000 steps a day.

In my first four months here, I lost 10 kilograms (about 22 pounds), though I quickly found them again thanks to Japan's incredibly delicious bakeries.

Increased walking has also changed how I connect with my environment. In a car, seasonal changes passed me by. Now, I slow down to notice spring buds, cherry blossoms hanging over train tracks, or autumn maples turning a deep crimson. I even took extra winter walks just to feel snowflakes settle on my cheeks as the hills behind my home turned white.

We can travel frequently

In New Zealand, international trips were a rare and expensive treat. In Japan, cheap flights across Asia and an extensive rail network make travel effortless and affordable.

Last summer alone, we visited Vietnam, Taiwan, Singapore, Bali, and the Setouchi Islands. Our multi-stop summer itinerary — flying from Osaka to Singapore and Bali before heading back to Japan — cost just 212,587 Yen ($1,332 USD) for all three of us on budget carriers.

Traveling to Beppu this May made me realize just how lucky we are. As I rode the Yufuin no Mori scenic train past mountains covered in vivid green cedar and purple wisteria, I looked out the window and actually cried out of pure gratitude for this new life.

Having affordable international flights at our doorstep and a domestic transit system that makes spontaneous weekend trips easy has turned travel from an occasional luxury into a normal part of our lives.

Our housing and grocery bills plummeted by more than half

In New Zealand, we paid NZ $1,680, or about $985 USD, a month for a small two-bedroom unit outside Christchurch's city center. In Kobe, we now pay around $450 a month for a much larger three-bedroom apartment.

The first time I did a week's worth of grocery shopping in Japan, I walked into the supermarket with ¥50,000 (about $315 USD) in my wallet, expecting to spend most of it. When the total came to just ¥15,000 ($95 USD), I genuinely thought there had been a mistake at the register.

While rising prices and the weak yen have made everyday life more expensive for many families in Japan, it still feels far more financially manageable for us than life in New Zealand did, especially when it comes to housing, groceries, internet, and eating out.

Living in Japan has reshaped my perspective and improved my mental health

Starting over in Japan wasn't a magical fix; navigating a new language and culture was lonely at times. Yet immersing myself in a completely different way of living reshaped my perspective, teaching me to appreciate more and fight the current less.

They say money can't buy happiness, but the financial stability and lifestyle shift here reduced my stress so drastically that eight months ago, I finally came off antidepressants after relying on them since I was 17.

Japan didn't cure me, but it created the conditions for recovery, which reignited my curiosity for learning about the world.

• After years of living in the Boston area, I found myself becoming increasingly burned out.
• Moving to upstate New York has been good for me and my wallet, and I love being close to nature.
• Although I miss a few things about where I lived before, I'm glad I made the move.

Growing up outside Boston, I loved the city's arts and culture scene.

Spending weekends in bookstores and thrift shops, hunting for unique vintage clothes, made me feel cosmopolitan — worlds away from my homogenous suburb. As a queer kid, that was a lifeline.

In fact, I loved this energy so much that I eventually decided to move to big cities like New York and San Francisco, before settling closer to the heart of Boston.

However, the older I got, the more I started to see things differently. Between the high cost of living and Boston's aggressive drivers, I found myself becoming increasingly anxious and burned out by my life there.

So, 11 years ago, my partner and I decided to move to a smaller city in New York's Hudson Valley, near where I went to college, for a lower cost of living and peace of mind.

And although there are things I miss about living in the Boston area, my life has improved in a number of ways since I moved to upstate New York.

I love the lower cost of living and our proximity to nature

Having lived in and around several major cities, I was pleasantly surprised at how much further my dollar stretched once we moved to upstate New York.

After all, being in a highly populated city like Boston often meant paying a premium for just about everything from groceries to nights out with friends.

For example, when we first moved to the Hudson Valley, my partner and I rented a three-bedroom house, and about six months later, decided to buy a home.

Now, our mortgage costs less than the share of rent we used to split with a roommate in the Boston area.

But our cost of living isn't the only perk to life in upstate New York. I've also fallen in love with the slower pace of life that comes with living in a less-populated area.

Now, instead of taking walks down loud, busy streets when I want to clear my mind, I'm able to hike a different scenic trail every week with no repeats.

With more physical activity and fewer external stressors — like long commutes and aggressive drivers — I feel much more relaxed.

Although I miss things about my old home, I'm happy here

Of course, there are some perks of living in the Boston area that can't quite be recreated upstate.

For example, I miss Boston's varied food scene with cuisines from all over the world. Here in the Hudson Valley, American staples like burgers, pizza, and chicken wings are in heavy rotation.

Since I'm a vegetarian, and my partner is gluten-free, finding food we can enjoy when dining out is a constant challenge.

We've also found that it's been more difficult to make — and keep — friends here in a smaller city. In Boston, my partner and I each had established friend groups, composed of people we'd known for years. We went to house parties, potluck dinners, and queer clubs.

Unfortunately, many of our favorite Hudson Valley queer spaces closed during the COVID-19 pandemic, which has made building a community more difficult. Plus, some of the friends I made moved away, and others drifted apart.

For an introvert like me, socializing takes extra effort, and the rewards are hit-or-miss. Still, I keep putting myself out there.

Even though I miss aspects of my life in the Boston area, moving to upstate New York has overwhelmingly been the right decision for me, and I have no regrets.

Plus, the lower cost of living means I can dedicate more money to my favorite hobby — traveling. And when I miss the pace of city life, I can simply hop on a plane.

• I moved from Michigan to Denver because of the hiking trails.
• I quickly met a great group of friends and built a strong community.
• But as the cost of living rises in Denver, my friends continue to move away.

Two things prompted my move from Michigan to Colorado in 2017: the mountains and a tight-knit group of friends that loved the outdoors as much as I did.

As a 20-something hiker who couldn't get enough trail time, my hometown started to feel stifling, like the state lines were confining my happiness. After backpacking the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail in 2015, Denver felt like the promised land, so I moved.

Within a year, half a dozen hiking friends followed, planting themselves in the foothills alongside me. But thanks to the rising costs, the community I built didn't last long.

Moving to Denver came with a promise

At first, Denver delivered everything I had hoped for. The economy hummed, the people were warm, and the mountains were brutal and unforgiving, exactly as I wanted.

My first FriendsGiving filled the house with familiar faces, food, and laughter that spilled into the early morning hours. Countless faces I'd seen along the Appalachian Trail dotted my living room, and for the first time in years, I genuinely felt at home.

I fell into a rhythm over the next several years, growing my career, my community, and my mountain skill set. But eventually the novelty of being in Colorado faded, and those rose-colored glasses came off. Denver was expensive.

The pandemic struck, inflation ballooned, and the state's existing fault lines cracked open. Colorado is now the sixth-least affordable state in the country. The cost of living had my friends doing the math and not liking what they found.

My friends started moving away

The first friend to go was my college roommate. We'd claimed Colorado as our home years earlier, hopeful for all the state's promises. But she'd done the numbers and found that homeownership on a single income in Denver wasn't in her cards. Her mother's declining health and a softer market back home made it hard to rationalize the grind. A few months later, she signed a three-bedroom lease in western Michigan for less than she'd paid for her Denver studio.

Her departure awakened my own doubts. I wasn't sure that I wanted to own a home, so purchase prices didn't haunt me the same way that they'd haunted her.

But rent was another story. I started doing my own math, late at night, in the way you do when you're not quite ready to admit what you're calculating.

Within a year, two of my best friends announced they were heading to Arizona. They didn't want to leave, but Phoenix offered cheaper housing and a family network that Denver lacked. This loss felt heavier than the first, marking a pattern that was forming.

I remember standing in the driveway, watching a small caravan of U-Hauls disappear down the road when an ache bloomed in my chest. Part of me felt something close to gratitude, knowing they were choosing the lives they wanted rather than clinging to Colorado out of habit or convenience.

But a quieter part of me wondered if I was next. If the village was gone, what was keeping me here? Was I staying in Colorado for the love of the place, or because I hadn't yet worked up the courage to consider that it wasn't my forever home?

I had a personal reckoning

One morning, I found myself alone at a trailhead that I'd visited hundreds of times before. The wind whistled as I began my ascent, and the familiarity of dirt trails eased my sorrow as I climbed.

I'd spent years using the mountains as medicine whenever life became too loud, heavy, or uncertain. They'd been a constant I'd craved: tall, indifferent, and unmoved by the concerns of men.

I wondered what my life would look like if I maintained my conviction to stay. Although the landscape of my life kept shifting like tectonic plates, I was exactly where I wanted to be. I decided to stay in Denver and build a new community.

• I left behind my plans in Poland and moved to the US after falling in love with my American husband.
• It took a while to adjust, but I eventually built a career and a life that I loved.
• Now, my husband wants to move to Poland — so we compromised and decided to eventually retire there.

When I first moved from Poland to Austin, Texas, for a short-term internship in my mid-20s, I never intended to stay.

As a new graduate, my goal was to get some hands-on experience in international business practices before returning home to work with my dad and teach fitness classes on the side.

Then I met the man who would become my husband. We crossed paths in downtown Austin, both waiting for a taxi after a night out. We started talking, felt an instant connection, and from that night on, kept finding reasons to see each other.

When the internship ended, I returned to Poland as planned. A long-distance relationship wasn't easy, but we made it work. One month after I left, he flew to Poland, proposed, and suddenly, the life I thought I was building there no longer felt possible.

I left behind a clear-cut path and rebuilt my life

When I moved back to the US and we got married, I left behind more than my country. I walked away from a defined career path, my family business, and the comfort of knowing exactly where I belonged.

Starting over as an immigrant was harder than I expected. As soon as I got my work permit, I took the first job offer I got. I felt pressure to prove — to my family, my friends, and myself — that I was succeeding in America.

Getting a job quickly felt like validation. In hindsight, it was a mistake. The role wasn't right, but I stayed longer than I should have. As a new immigrant, I didn't think I could afford to be selective.

When I became pregnant with my first child, I quit my job and made a difficult but necessary decision: I went back to college. I earned a degree in computer information technology and eventually started a new career in tech.

For the first time since moving to the US, I felt stable again. I had rebuilt my confidence and proven to myself that starting over didn't mean starting from nothing.

Still, something was missing. In Poland, I had always envisioned myself running a business. That dream never disappeared.

Alongside my tech career, I started my own fitness coaching business. Through it, I met inspiring women in the US — entrepreneurs, mothers, immigrants — who helped me rediscover my ambition and sense of purpose.

It took nearly 10 years, but slowly, the US started feeling like home.

While I was building a home in Austin, my husband was falling in love with Poland — but we've found a compromise

Just as I felt rooted, my husband started dreaming of the life I once left behind.

Throughout our marriage, we traveled back to Poland often. Over time, my husband fell for the things I once took for granted: the slower pace of life, the food, the walkable cities, the mountain views near my hometown, and the old architecture layered with history.

Eventually, his curiosity turned more serious. He began talking about what daily life there might look like, bringing up how it would feel to enjoy slower mornings and spend more time with my family. After one memorable visit last year, he asked if I'd be open to planning a future in Poland.

The idea no longer felt abstract. I agreed to start looking at property — maybe a piece of land, or even a small house — sometime in the next year or two.

We had a lot of conversations. We discussed our careers, finances, children, and what we wanted our future to look like.

In the end, we compromised: We'll stay in the US for the time being, but buy property in Poland within the next year or two. We'll visit as much as we can and plan to eventually retire there, about three decades from now.

Moving countries for love taught me that rebuilding takes time, and clarity doesn't come all at once. It also taught me that home isn't just about geography, but choosing each other, no matter where you are.

• Americans aren't flocking to Florida like they used to.
• BI spoke with three former Floridians about why they say the state has lost some of its appeal.
• Affordability is a common issue among relocaters, particularly with the state's higher home prices.

Kimberly Jones was born and raised in Florida and expected to live in South Florida for the rest of her life.

But after COVID, Florida no longer felt the same. An influx of out-of-staters strained the infrastructure in Jones' area of South Florida, where new construction, crowded grocery stores, and traffic-jammed commutes became the norm. The flood of newcomers also drove up housing costs, making it harder for longtime residents to afford the place they've always called home.

In 2021, Jones and her husband packed their bags and moved to North Carolina. They're not the only ones who have fallen out of love with Florida. While people are still moving to the state, net domestic migration — or the number of people moving into the state from elsewhere in the country minus those moving out to other parts of the US — has steadily cooled in recent years.

There are a few reasons behind Florida's slowing numbers and waning appeal. For some, the state's tax benefits may no longer outweigh its rising cost of living. That was certainly the case for Jones.

"Our reasons for moving were multifaceted," Jones, 60, told Business Insider. "A major factor was affordability — the cost of living in Florida had gotten out of control. Prices increased for everything — homeowners' and auto insurance, and even for everyday expenses like groceries and eating out. Those costs felt particularly high in South Florida compared with other parts of the state."

The Joneses found a more affordable, more relaxing life in North Carolina

Jones and her husband settled in a small rural town about an hour from Charlotte. They now live in a custom-built lakefront home on 1.5 acres — the kind of property Jones said she couldn't have afforded in Florida.

Indeed, Florida's home prices have continued to climb in recent years. Data from Redfin shows that the median home sale price in Florida increased by 19% between March 2021 and March 2026, reaching $417,000.

With the state's overall cost of living rising, many people — especially young adults, like Jones' son — are finding it difficult to become homeowners.

"My daughter managed to buy a condo a few years ago, when prices were lower, and interest rates were still low," Jones said. "But my son has little chance of buying anytime soon; he'll be renting for the near future, like most of his friends — most of my friends talk about the same thing with their kids."

Besides more affordable housing, Jones and her husband are also enjoying lower home insurance costs, as well as cheaper groceries and restaurant prices in North Carolina. But perhaps the biggest benefit of all is that the lower cost of living has allowed Jones to cut back on work.

"My husband retired a few years ago, and I was able to transition to remote work," Jones said. "We love [North Carolina's] slower pace of life and the fact that people are very nice up here. My quality of life — my stress level, everything — has improved tremendously just from being out of what felt like a rat race."

Natalie Alatriste left Florida in search of a more like-minded community

Natalie Alatriste is also a native Floridian. She remembers a time when her hometown of Miami felt sleepier, and neighborhoods like Little Havana were still under the radar. Today, she said, the city feels transformed.

"There's a pre-COVID Miami and a post-COVID Miami, and the post-COVID version is completely different," Alatriste, 35, told Business Insider. "The cost of living has gone up, and so many people have moved in that traffic is always heavy."

But it was not just Miami's growth that pushed her to reconsider her future in the state. Alatriste said Florida's shifting political landscape was also a factor in her decision.

"In 2024, I seriously started thinking about leaving not just Miami, but Florida entirely," she said. "The state's politics became a turning point for me. During the presidential election, everything I voted for — the amendments, the candidates, all of it — went in the opposite direction."

In 2025, Alatriste moved to Shirlington, a neighborhood in Arlington, Virginia, that's roughly a 20-minute drive from Washington, D.C. She and her partner rent a three-bedroom, three-story townhouse that's about 2,500 square feet, and pay roughly $4,350 a month. It's still expensive, but Alatriste said sharing the cost with a partner makes it easier to handle, and overall, Virginia feels more affordable.

"My quality of life feels much better in Virginia. I don't feel like I'm wasting so much time or spending so much money just to live," she said. "I also have greater peace of mind and can breathe easier because I'm part of a community that feels more aligned with my values."

Karen Meadows wanted a more active retirement

Florida is one of the most popular retirement destinations in the country. It offers plenty of obvious draws, including no state income tax, warm weather, and an abundance of retirement communities. But for some retirees, like Karen Meadows, life spent at the beach or by the pool isn't enough.

"Many people move to Florida to retire because it's quiet and has a slower pace of life," Meadows, 62, told Business Insider. "But for me, I wanted to move somewhere with more energy."

In 2024, Meadows and her husband moved to New York City.

"It's funny because the first thing everybody says about our move is, 'Oh my God, you did the opposite,'" Meadows added, "and they're right."

Meadows sold her home in Panama City Beach and now lives in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom condo in Brooklyn. Though New York still feels intimidating at times, being closer to her kids and living in a vibrant city has made the move worth it.

Beyond training for marathons — including the New York City Marathon and the Boston Marathon, both of which she has run several times — she volunteers with North Brooklyn Angels and the food rescue organization City Harvest. She has also joined the North Brooklyn Runners Club and started a book club.

"I know I probably could have moved somewhere more laid-back, warmer, and with lower taxes, but I love New York," Meadows said. "I'm almost 63, and I feel better and more alive than ever. Life feels freer, I'm more engaged, and there's still so much to explore."

Are you a former Floridian? We want to hear from you. Email the reporter, Alcynna Lloyd, at alloyd@businessinsider.com to share your story.

• My husband and I thought Sweden would bring us our dream life, but logistics made it hard to stay.
• We ended up settling down in a small city in Maine, and surprisingly, we love it even more here.
• The most special part of our new home is the tight-knit, extremely supportive community.

We spent New Year's Eve wearing paper crowns at a cozy New England restaurant that felt like a living room. The owner stopped by our corner booth while he worked the room; our friends, who run their own bakery, slipped away to say hi to some regulars.

My husband leaned over and said, "I love this."

The year before, we had been wall-to-wall at a roller-rink club in Brooklyn. Although we had a good time, sitting in that small-town restaurant — watching fireworks over the river — felt like exactly where we were meant to be.

There was no line, cover fee, or wild countdown. The night that often disappoints simply didn't.

This wasn't where we thought we'd be on the last night of 2025. In June, we'd moved from New York to Sweden, but just four months later, we found ourselves leaving for Maine.

We thought Sweden would be our new home, but circumstances made it temporary

Moving to Sweden in June, I was following a simple idea: When things feel scary in America, the best course of action is to leave.

For a while, it worked. Life felt gentler.

We fell into a mellow rhythm, going to the beach, visiting the many well-maintained conservation areas — including some that go directly through cow pastures — and eating affordable, healthy food from the grocery store.

Although Sweden delivered in real ways, staying required logistical planning and more time than we had. Leaving didn't feel like failure, but choosing something more permanent.

Back in the US, we weren't looking for another major metropolitan area, but a real community. That search led us to a small Maine city just south of Portland, where some of our friends were already living.

With a population of under 23,000, it sounded like a great fit. Friends helped us secure an apartment before we even arrived.

The community here immediately felt unlike anywhere else

We had a rich community in New York, but our friends were more spread out around the city. As soon as we got to Maine, though, we realized we could walk almost anywhere: from our apartment to a friend's place, the pharmacy, a grocery store, and the river.

As a result, our city really feels like home. Now, our friends' bakery isn't just a place to get delicious treats and coffee; it's where we run into — or make — friends in line, and chat about how their winter is going.

We've also seen the way Mainers support each other firsthand. When our moms came to visit, we took them for a coastal drive in our brand-new Volvo and slid straight into a ditch.

We were inches from doing damage and bracing for a tow when a woman and her kids came outside and jumped in to help push us back onto the road.

Within minutes, we were free. They waved while we drove off as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Our community shows up for people in larger-scale ways, too. When a major fire hit the Old Port this winter, destroying boats and fishing equipment, the owner of a local seafood restaurant started selling T-shirts, with proceeds going to the fishermen affected.

More recently, amid Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)'s enhanced presence in Maine, residents responded immediately. Businesses put up "No ICE" posters, a hotline was established to provide help and resources, and crowds gathered downtown to protest the occupation.

It reaffirmed what I already knew about Maine: When people here think their neighbors are at risk, they take action.

Maine is exactly what we needed

One night, before grabbing cocktails, a group of our friends went to a live storytelling event in a small church.

I was surrounded by new and familiar faces: A former theater kid in his 30s told a story about the state spelling bee. An 80-year-old talked about soapbox racing in Camden.

My own creative work is taking shape here, too. I'm querying a novel, having found a steadier practice and supportive writing scene.

I'm glad I had the opportunity to live abroad, but I'm even happier that I landed in a small US city where people live year-round and expect to see each other for decades.

Sitting in that booth on New Year's Eve, I understood why people here claim this place, and why I'm excited to do the same.

• My friends and family thought I was making a mistake when I moved states for a new relationship.
• At first, I felt homesick, but my partner supported me in a way that validated my decision.
• Now, we're married with kids, and I'm so glad I took a risk on love.

When I was 21, I fell in love for the first time.

Tim and I met online before it was cool. An avid fisherman, sports fanatic, and gifted salesman, he wasn't my usual type — but he was charming, funny, awkward, and sweet. I fell for him, hook, line, and sinker.

There was only one problem. Tim lived in Minneapolis, and I lived in Chicago.

We made long-distance work for as long as we could. On the rare weekends I wasn't waitressing, I traveled to Minnesota for ice fishing and bar hopping. When Tim's schedule allowed, he visited me at my parents' house for family dinners and nights out with friends.

Our time together was fun and exciting, but after seven months of constant travel, we knew we had some decisions to make.

When Tim and I decided to take the next step, I moved to Minnesota

After a four-year collegiate stint in Michigan, I'd sworn to myself that I'd never leave Chicago again. Not only were my family and friends there, but it was comforting and familiar. It was home.

Tim understood my love for Chicago from the moment we met. He was early in his dream career as a salesman, and I hadn't yet decided what I wanted to do professionally. Even so, he reassured me that I would never have to move — that, instead, he would find a way to relocate for me.

The more reassuring he was, though, the more I began seriously considering moving to Minnesota. Logistically, it just made sense.

My family and friends were just as charmed by Tim as I was, but they were skeptical, too. They cautioned me against moving, reminding me that Tim and I hadn't known each other that long.

The more I thought about beginning a new chapter, though, the more right it felt. Whether or not Tim and I lasted, maybe an adventure was exactly what I needed to kick off the adult chapter of my life.

Despite their warnings, I began searching for a job in Minneapolis. When I found a new job and a new roommate in the same week, it felt like fate.

I struggled with homesickness at first, but Tim supported me

My life in Minnesota wasn't what I had imagined. Living away from home was difficult, and I was miserably homesick for weeks. I was also adjusting to life in my first apartment, along with a new, very demanding job.

I was thrilled to be closer to Tim, but the struggles I was experiencing overshadowed much of my joy. Despite these difficulties, Tim remained patient, sure of our relationship, even when my confidence wavered.

On Halloween, my family's favorite holiday, Tim dressed up as a giant piece of pizza to cheer me up. When the first snow fell that season, Tim was waiting in my new apartment with a Christmas tree in tow.

By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, bringing with it chocolate-covered strawberries and three dozen white roses (my favorite), most of my homesickness had faded.

I realized that Tim was my future, wherever we lived

After six months, I finally began to find my footing. My roommate and I developed a strong bond, and I began to branch out into new social circles.

I fell in love with Minnesota in the summertime. I even learned to fish! Turns out, Tim was an excellent teacher.

Tim was my constant, in good times and bad. As the months continued to pass, I began to realize that maybe, this wasn't just the beginning of a new chapter — maybe it was the beginning of forever.

One evening, eight months after I first arrived in Minnesota, Tim invited me out for a casual dinner. I accepted, thinking nothing of it, not even questioning the fact that he wanted us to explore an antique store 15 minutes before our reservation.

I was sifting through a pile of old postcards when I realized that Tim was nowhere to be seen — until I rounded the corner and there he was, on bended knee, a tiny box in his outstretched hand.

We were married that December in Chicago. We spent another year in Minnesota after that, before returning to my hometown for good, putting down roots a few miles from my childhood home.

Thirteen years and six children later, I'm forever grateful that I ignored well-meaning warnings from my friends and family. I may have risked it all on love, but in the end, it was worth it.