#1: Ask Me Anything
On turning thirty and moving to a new city.
Well, I’ve officially been posting on Substack for a full year. The experience of engaging with people online and crafting a post inspired by my thoughts and experiences has been so fun and rewarding, and I’m probably going to keep doing it. This month, I did have a bit of a writer’s block, and reached out to ask some folks to share a question about a big feeling or life change or anything, really, so that I could do my first advice column. Here’s what we got.
“How do you feel approaching 30?”
A year ago, I probably would’ve said I was scared shitless about turning 30. That version of me harbored a deeply negative perspective on aging. I had this misconception that navigating society might be easier as a young woman than as a middle-aged one. It almost feels like you get a free pass when you’re younger. I was spiraling about this in therapy when my therapist said something that stuck: “Of course you’re going to make a mistake; of course you’re going to fuck up. This is exactly the time to do just that.” While validating in the moment, it also reinforced my belief that society is more forgiving when your prefrontal cortex has only just finished developing.
The idea that you get fewer free passes after thirty triggered a specific kind of fear: fear that I hadn’t accomplished enough, and that my value was about to decline. I used to think that mistakes were only acceptable when you were still figuring out adulthood, but that belief harbors an assumption that life is somewhat predictable. Which, of course, (surprise!) it’s not. Psychological operating systems are not predictive machine learning models. We don’t become perfectly optimized with time. We’re inherently flawed, full of contradiction and nuance, living in ever-changing contexts. As someone who somehow always has room for dessert, despite how full I may be, these ideas are conceptually the same—it doesn’t matter how full or how old you may be—there’s always room for more error, and more cheesecake.
The comforting part (aside from knowing we’re not robots, and that robots probably can’t ever be quite like us) is realizing that confidence tends to come more easily with age. Life gets more exciting when you know yourself better. There’s also a deeper sense of responsibility to be kinder to yourself. When you’re constantly questioning every move—a habit that showed up a lot in my early twenties—it starts to feel like you’re living for other people, not yourself. To be honest, 90% of the decisions I made in my twenties were for the stories, simply because I cared way too much about what other people thought. I’m grateful that stepping into this new decade feels like a breath of fresh air. By now, you’ve slimmed down your community to include people who genuinely share your values. You’ve figured out how to spend money on things that actually support your well-being. Some people are getting engaged or having kids. Some people are getting dogs and changing their careers entirely. Because with self-discovery somehow makes difficult decisions much easier.
Recently, I was talking with friends about how different our energy levels are now compared to our early twenties. With a year and some change left in this decade, the idea of a good night’s sleep is genuinely exciting. That’s the beauty of approaching your thirties: you inherit the freedom to decide when sacrificing sleep is worth it. I’ve had enough nights out to know when it’s worth getting absolutely blasted, and when a single beer just isn’t worth compromising my sleep score. I realize I may sound like a fucking loser, but that’s what’s kind of thrilling about turning thirty—risking sounding like a loser, and sharing your thoughts with the world anyway.
And if none of that feels reassuring, here’s a silver lining: for many women, physical strength and endurance actually peak around this age, and that might just be the best news you read this week.
“My big feeling revolves around returning back to a city I used to live in. I’m debating moving back to Montreal. Life in North Carolina isn’t bad or anything to complain about, but being far from a big friend network and family in upstate NY is hard. Do you return to a city you used to love, or do you keep bopping around? Or better yet, how do you know when a city is 'right' for you long-term?”
Moving to a new city is incredibly difficult—because what makes a place special is usually the community you build within it. I have a vivid memory of biking along Ocean Beach at sunset in 2022 with a close friend who’d just moved to San Francisco. He turned to me and asked, “Does this ever get old?” I can confirm: after five years, it still hasn’t. To live in a place that continues to give to you—that still feels full of promise—is rare and precious. And great people don’t only exist in certain places—they’re everywhere. The friendships we develop in adulthood, when we’re more in tune with who we are, are particularly special. Seeking out those people—and keeping them for the rest of forever? Massive W.
During COVID, moving to another country felt impossible, especially to the U.S. It was seriously not in my realm of possibility. Then, suddenly, I was asked to fly to San Francisco and live there permanently just a week before the start date of my new job. It all happened so fast, and I didn’t process that I’d moved until almost a year later. When I had moved, I only knew one person, and everyone else that I loved was still in Toronto. For the first year, I had relentless FOMO. My body was in SF, but my mind was in Toronto. It didn’t help that my boyfriend at the time was still living there, along with my entire friend group. Watching life go on without me made me feel weirdly excluded—even though the distance had nothing to do with them, and everything to do with my own set of difficult decisions.
When my relationship ended, I started feeling more present in SF. I made a commitment to myself to be fully there—mind, body, and spirit. I planted social seeds to reflect that, and began making intentional decisions to build a life I loved. Many people travel the world to find themselves–my move across the continent and subsequent breakup felt like my version of the whole eat, pray, love thing that they make movies about. Because of it, there’s a deep sentimentality I feel toward San Francisco. It provided me with a space for liberation and self-discovery at a super pivotal time–and I hadn’t really had that in the other cities I’ve lived in. Building a home in a new city is difficult, but it can be done if you choose to take the bull by its horns and commit to making the city truly yours.
One trick that might help with your decision is the airplane test. When you fly back to the city you live in after being away, how do you feel? Do you dread it? Feel flat? Or do you get that tiny surge of relief or joy? I didn’t realize it was possible to feel genuinely excited to land back in your own city, until I did. And everyone deserves to feel that. You deserve to feel that. A few questions:
Is the potential move back to Montreal being driven by FOMO?
Have you truly given Charlotte the chance it deserves?
Giving it a chance doesn’t mean you’re stuck there forever. But if you do leave, at least you’ll know you tried. That kind of clarity matters.
When you visit Montreal, what do you feel in your body? Is the excitement something you’ve been longing for? And how does that compare to what you feel when flying into Charlotte?
The really lovely thing is—you get to decide!!! You have the freedom to design your life based on what matters to you right now. Being away from family is undeniably hard. So it’s worth asking: is the juice worth the squeeze? Maybe it’s an incredible job that’s going to catapult your career to the next level, maybe it’s people who push you to grow, maybe it’s brand new experiences that challenge you in all the right ways. Evaluating these tradeoffs is crucial and once you do, this will give you more clarity on where you may find yourself next.
Thanks to those who submitted a question. And thanks to everyone who has been reading in the past year—it means SO much to me. It’s been a year filled with unique experiences that have taught me a lot about myself and the world.
Let’s see if we can do another rotation around the sun posting on this thing monthly. Fingers crossed that the commitment continues to stay alive.
Anyway, cheers.
Parmoon
The airplane test! Only once have I thought, “oh my god, what have I done?” As the plane descended over industrial plots of monotonous flat roofs in LA.