One year later: A Covid Relocation Story
By: Bri Seeley
Tags: Inspirational, Covid Diaries, Entrepreneur, Journey, Relocation

The decision to leave was relatively easy. Not because I wanted to, but because it made sense to leave. Being locked in a box, without access to a proper grocery store and zero human contact, not to mention in an apartment where the walls were leaking water every other week and landlords who were unwilling to fix the problem, but who were very willing to raise my rent the following month when I renewed my lease… it all made it very easy for me to leave.

But I knew that it was only temporary because of course I was coming back to Manhattan. It was all I’d ever wanted in my life. I’d be back in a year… Right?

In fact, my mindset going into Tulsa Remote was a combination of “I can live anywhere for a year” and “It’ll be a nice experiment before I return to Manhattan again.” I almost rented a furnished apartment to make the process of two anticipated back-to-back cross-country moves easier on myself.

The first few months in Tulsa were fun. If you’ve ever relocated to a new city you may recall the initial wonder of exploring hidden gems, finding your favorite coffee shop and trying a different restaurant in town every week. I was immersed in the novelty of it all and had even allowed myself to indulge a bit. I became a Vespa owner after wanting one for 15-years, I quadrupled my vintage vinyl collection and I refurnished 80% of my home after deciding to forego a furnished place.

A few months in the newness began to fade, as it does, and I fell into my usual life and business routines. Saturday trips to the farmer’s market followed by a cappuccino and writing at my favorite cafe. Sunday grocery shopping. Bi-weekly happy hours with Tulsa Remote. Several times a week co-working.

And so much stillness.

This is the unexpected element about relocating to a new city as a single person (not to mention, a new city that is relatively small… while in the midst of a global pandemic).

For the first time in my life, I could feel my nervous system slowing down. In Tulsa I didn’t need to rush, or strive, or push. I didn’t need to review a 50 item long mental checklist before leaving the house. I didn’t need to check the public transportation schedules or the traffic patterns. I didn’t need to hustle as hard in my business because my expenses had been cut in half.

The mental chatter I had grown so accustomed to was silent. For the first time in my life (yes, including my childhood), I didn’t have a single thing to worry about. I could relax.

People talk about slowing down to speed up. While I previously understood the saying in concept, it wasn’t until four months into my life in Tulsa that I truly began to comprehend and live into the slowing down. Living in a city like Tulsa gives you no option but to slow your roll. Not only does the culture run at a more leisurely pace, but it’s as if the energy of the city demands you to match its tempo.

And, just as my friends all predicted when I moved, your girl fell in love. Granted, it wasn’t with the cowboy everyone had predicted… it was with something even better: life.

Living in places like Downtown Los Angeles and Manhattan has a certain glamour to it, not to mention the success narratives tied to the coastal metropolitan cities, which could fill a blog of its own. But what people don’t talk about is the cost of ambition and the cost of living with a singular focus on achievement.

My nervous system was shot. My adrenals were constantly engaged to a point where it was creating back issues and I kept throwing out my hip doing the most mundane things. I couldn’t even relax enough to enjoy a massage because my mind would be wandering down all the rabbit holes of what my next step would be and how to execute it. I’d receive a reiki session, then lose all the zen I had just found while stepping out onto the sideway and walking to the subway. Making friends in big cities is difficult either due to proximity and convenience or due to everyone having an agenda and their ambition taking priority over connection.

Concurrently, I happened to be having conversations with people all over the world about success for my podcast ‘The Success Diaries’ that were bringing me fresh perspectives, insights and a-ha’s every week. Each conversation forced me to confront my own definition of success and truly wonder if what I had glamorized over 30 years was really what I wanted.

Then the unexpected perks began to reveal themselves little by little.

Tulsa doesn’t require you to prove yourself in the ways that Los Angeles and Manhattan do. People are more interested in who you are, rather than what you do. And while they are still passionate and focused, it doesn’t consume their lives as it does in the bigger, coastal cities. I looked around to find a thriving and supportive community everywhere I turned, whereas in other cities I would wonder who I could call and lean on in hard times.

My creativity, which previously felt as water starved as the Sahara, began flourishing with an enthusiasm I had desperately missed.

My business became so easy and opportunities were coming out of thin air. I wasn’t having to sacrifice my personal time, energy and fulfillment for my business. I began to take full weekends off, which I had always meant to do in New York and Los Angeles… but it never quite worked out.

The plethora of time I had on my hands opened me back up to reading. I was reading more books than ever before — I’ve finished three books in the last two weeks. And not just any books… FICTION books! I just felt the collective gasp from all the entrepreneurs reading this. Who has time to read non-business books, am I right? This girl. I do. Because I’ve made the time.

My body is in the best shape of my life.

This isn’t to say it’s all been sunshine and roses. I’ve also faced some of the most crippling mental health challenges of my last decade. I’ve still faced some loneliness despite my incredible community here. The dating scene isn’t great for a childfree woman. Sometimes eating out can be challenging with strict dietary restrictions.

And yet, I couldn’t help but begin to admit… Tulsa had grown on me.