Starting Over in NYC - An Era of Reinvention

When I imagined my New York debut, I pictured champagne, chic solo nights, and maybe a little chaos - but not this much. I didn’t picture getting let go from my job. I didn’t picture crying on my stoop. But here we are. And I’m still standing (in heels).

I started this blog to share real, unfiltered experiences - to inspire other women by telling the whole story: the good, the bad, the scary, the thrilling, the highs, the lows, and everything in between. These past few weeks have been tough, and to be honest, I haven’t wanted to share any of it. But maybe sharing it is exactly how I start to heal. And if even one person reads this and feels seen, then I’ve already done what I set out to do.

If you’ve ever had to make big changes, if life has thrown you a curveball or two, if you’re feeling a little lost - this one’s for you, babe.

The Big Life Changes

They say not to make too many life changes at once. I said: Hold my martini.

I knew packing up my entire life into an SUV and moving across the country would be a lot - but it was a lot more than I expected. If you’ve read my post “Champagne Problems & Cornfields,” you already know what a ride the move itself was. But even after the cross-country chaos settled, the real work began: figuring out how to navigate this massive city, this totally new way of life. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. And doing it alone? Even scarier.

I spent 36 years in the Bay Area, surrounded by friends and family. Here in New York? Just a few acquaintances… and of course, my loyal sidekick, Ruckus. From the outside, I probably made it look easy. And sure, I’ve solo-traveled around the world, so I’m no stranger to independence. But the difference? Before, there was always a return ticket. I always came home to something familiar. Now, this is home - and the weight of what I left behind hits harder than I expected. No more casual drop-ins with my parents. No more friend birthdays. The distance is real.

Still, I found comfort in creating a routine almost as soon as I arrived. Morning walks in the park with Ruckus. Coffee from the corner bodega. Gym sessions, solo date nights, flirty conversations with strangers - if you know me, you know I don’t exactly shy away from a little banter. Slowly but surely, New York started to feel less like a stranger and more like a mood I could match.

But just as I was starting to get the hang of things, life decided to shake it all up - in the worst way. Two weeks ago, I was let go from my job.

It felt sudden. It felt wrong. And honestly? It felt unfair. Sure, if I’m being real, I hadn’t been happy there for a while. I’d been quietly hoping for an out - but not like this. At first, there was shock. Then, maybe a touch of relief. I told myself I’d land something else quickly, slide into a new and better role, and this would just be a blip.

That fantasy lasted… about three days.

Then reality hit. I moved my entire life across the country. I barely know anyone here. And now? I don’t have a job to support me. I’ve got rent. Bills. Groceries. How the hell am I supposed to do this?

The Honest Feelings

Here’s the truth: it’s not just the logistics that keep you up at night - it’s the emotional whiplash.

I’ve felt fear. The kind that creeps in when the final paycheck hits, when the calendar suddenly goes quiet. I’ve felt sadness, like I lost more than a job - I lost the structure, the title, the thing that made me feel valuable in rooms full of strangers.

And imposter syndrome? Oh, she came in hot. Whispering things like Maybe you weren’t that good. Maybe this was your fault.

But alongside the fear came something else: freedom.

The kind that comes when the mask slips off and you realize… maybe it wasn’t really you in that role anyway. Maybe the thing that ended was never meant to be forever. There’s a strange kind of thrill in starting over - a quiet voice that says, Now you get to build something new. Something that actually fits.

It’s terrifying to lose the thing you built your identity around. But it’s also kind of thrilling to remember who you are without it.

Being alone in New York has cracked me open in the best and worst ways. I miss the comfort of home, but I’ve also never felt more me. There’s something wildly empowering about walking through this city heartbroken but still head held high, still in red lipstick, still ordering the martini.

What I’m Learning

Lately, I’ve been practicing the art of the reframe.

Turning “I lost my job in a city where I hardly know anyone” into “I’ve been given the chance to find my dream job in the city of reinvention.” New York doesn’t hand you anything - but she dares you to take it. And I’m starting to believe I’m up for the challenge.

I’m also learning to give myself some damn grace in the process. Because I’m not okay right now — and that’s okay. I will be. It’s okay to grieve the life you thought you’d be living. It’s okay to be sad. To cry. To sit in silence. To scream into a pillow and then order pizza. It’s okay to ask for support. And it’s also okay to not want to talk to anyone for a minute.

Take your five minutes to fall apart - metaphorical or not. Then fix your lipstick, pour yourself a glass of something bubbly, and remember: this moment doesn’t define you. And neither did that job.

It’s hard not to wrap my identity around my job title. I’ve worn that hat more than any other in my life. I love what I do. I pour my heart and soul into every single event I plan. But maybe — just maybe — I am more than the results I deliver. Maybe there’s something powerful in remembering who I am without the deck, the budget, the meetings.

Because reinvention? It’s not just a moment. It’s a lifestyle. And here in New York - one solo date night, one conversation, one perfectly imperfect martini at a time - I’m building something new. Not just a career. A life.

Maybe being a Bonne Vivante isn’t about having it all figured out. Maybe it’s about figuring it out… fabulously.

So… What Now?

A terrifying question, honestly - not knowing what comes next. And truthfully? I have no idea.

I’ve been leaning on my people - friends and family back home, and a few new gems here in the city. A woman from back home who ran in the same circles has now become my NYC bestie. The dog parents at the local park? I feel like I’ve joined the Dog Parent PTA (we have opinions, and we share them). And then there’s the new friend who found me through this blog and invited me to a sauna rave for our first hangout. Yes, really. (More on that soon — hint hint, next post!)

I’m applying for jobs and crossing fingers something clicks soon. But in the meantime, I’m letting this unexpected pause be an invitation - to fall even more in love with New York, to explore her corners and contradictions, and to keep showing up for myself.

Even if it means bartending three jobs to make rent until the dream role arrives, I’ll do what I have to do. Because despite everything - the setbacks, the tears, the uncertainty - moving here was still the best decision I’ve ever made. This city is home. It’s where I’m meant to be.

And if I can make it here… well, you know the rest.

If you’ve ever felt lost in a city of millions, jobless with a packed resume, or heartbroken and still hot — you’re not alone.

✨ Et voilà, we begin again. ✨

Tell me your reinvention story - big, small, messy, bold. I want to hear it. Drop it in the comments, DM me, or share this with someone who needs to know they’re not alone. Let’s normalize the pivot, the plot twist, and the power move.