I Loved NYC but Had to Leave; Now Happily Live in Small Tenessee Town

I’m a proud third-generation New Yorker, and I never imagined leaving the city where everything seemed to be happening.

After all, where else could I survive as a multi-hyphenate playwright, performer, and chess teacher?

Whenever my friends moved out of the city, I’d secretly scoff and label their choice a failure while priding myself on being made of tougher stuff.

However, when the COVID-19 pandemic closed schools and theaters, I couldn’t pay my bills. At 38, I found myself unemployed and without a home.

Desperate, I applied to an artist residency on a donkey farm in a tiny town in rural Tennessee. I got it, and my plan was to save money, write my play, then return home to NYC in a few months.

However, I fell in love with my small town and completely upended my life to stay here with my husband and daughter. We’re still happily here three years later.

I enjoy access to the outdoors but value my proximity to Nashville’s thriving cultural scene

Our cost of living is far lower here than it ever was in New York City, which has been a huge perk.

My family lives in an off-grid cabin, where my husband and I caretake acres of land for our landladies in exchange for reduced rent. This helps us spend more time outside, plus tending to our garden is a fun, money-saving activity for the whole family.

I appreciate the independence and freedom that our proximity to the great outdoors gives our daughter, but as she grows older, I want to share parts of my culture that my mom did with my sister and me in New York City: visiting museums, bookstores, concerts, and theaters.

Fortunately, we live less than two hours from Nashville, and its major art scene and big-city offerings give me peace of mind and are fun to dive into when I’m missing home.

I realized I prefer living in a smaller place with fewer choices instead of a big one with too many. I don’t miss the intrusive, constant bombardment of digital advertisements on everything from moving vehicles to bus stops, either.

Here, I experience less decision fatigue and stimulation, which gives me more cognitive power to be present with my family and build my artistic career.

We’ve made the best of the downsides of living here, too

Some parts of living in a more remote, small town have been difficult to adjust to.

We can’t get a pizza delivered to our cabin in the woods. However, on the plus side, I’ve discovered I love cooking, and so does my daughter.

I miss living in a walkable city, but I’ve learned how to drive. We don’t have many child-friendly activities nearby — most gymnastics, music, and art classes are a 40-minute drive from us — but we have lots of space to create fun. My husband built a giant wooden obstacle course for our daughter in our spacious front yard.

Finding good work opportunities locally has been especially difficult, but this only inspired me to create my own. A little over a year ago, I opened a grant-consulting business and began writing freelance stories.

Each day, I now “commute” to my she-shed my husband built just steps from our cabin. No trains or buses in sight.

I’m grateful we jumped outside our comfort zone to make such a big move

I often miss the easy unfettered access to live music, comedy shows, museums, theater, restaurants, and dance classes in NYC.

However, each day here is filled with its own adventures — handling rattlesnakes, felling falling trees, rescuing dogs, creating irrigation projects for excess rain.

Although I doubt I would’ve made this change if the pandemic hadn’t forced me into a difficult position, I’m glad I embraced this new chapter.

It’s allowed me to keep growing and taught me about what truly matters: spending time surrounded by people I love and creating art in a natural setting.

I’m sure some New Yorkers reading this will think I just “can’t hack it” in the city — and they’re right! However, I see now that the secret to living a fuller life was just outside my comfort zone.

I’m grateful for my time in the city, but I’ll happily take mornings seated on our hilltop watching the sunrise over ones spent fighting for a seat on the “R” train.