"I do not like my city"

But are you willing to leave your comfort zone?

Love notes from Siel is a weekly newsletter from Siel, who’s currently on a Remote Year trip around the world. If you love it, subscribe for free.

Once a month, I answer a question from a reader. Have a question? Ask!

Hi Siel, 

The thing is, I do not like my city. 

The main reason I am here is because of my family and friends. I was living and traveling in cities I loved, but when I came across incredibly challenging life obstacles, I chose to come home to my roots around people I could be in a bad place for months and they would still tolerate me. I say 'chose' specifically (it is therapy talk!) but sometimes it doesn't feel I had a choice. It felt like I had to! And I resented being here in my city. But I chose my health and my long-term happiness, and it was the right choice — though hard. It has been a year and a half since then, and I am doing a lot better. 

I am getting ready to stretch my wings and leave the nest again! Sometimes I think I am going to return to the city I loved — London! And sometimes I think I am going to stay here. And sometimes I think I am going to go teach English in India or South Korea, or sometimes I think I am going to move somewhere more affordable with like-minded people. I have been wanting to explore cities — which I haven't yet, but when I was traveling around Europe — I came to a similar conclusion as you: ALL THE CITIES ARE THE SAME. I couldn't tell if it upset you in the Newsletter, it said you were stating something neutral with a bit of sadness. I looked into the history a bit, and it has SO much to do with laws about corporations — especially giving big corporations more advantages than small corporations. 

I feel so so so upset by the fact that all the cities look the same (and even internationally too! American empire! There was a Shake Shack in Istanbul! In ISTANBUL!) and there are like 6 Starbucks in my hometown of Calabasas and a large Barnes and Nobles that never responds when I call their community manager trying to organize events or a book blog meet up there! 

Let's say you live in your city — and you don't like it. I live in San Fernando Valley, most people don't particularly like it there. We live there because it's all we can afford and our friends are there — but there aren't many areas that are well loved! I live in Calabasas — where we live cus it is safe and beautiful, but we have almost no community and all people who grow up leave if they can because there is nothing to do here for us. All my friends I had growing up here, the close ones, have left. We hated it here. Most left LA if they could. I left LA. 

To be honest, I thought I might come back in my 30s or 40s with my kids, I did not think I'd come back now. I find myself wallowing in pity and hatred and desperation for this city that is nothing like London that has nothing I love nearby — no cute coffee shops that are affordable, no art galleries, no local independent bookstore, no cafe in a park, no brewery in a boat with people hanging out listening to music, no small theater, no weekly dance place, no late night spot you can always go to meet friendly people, no museum, no art center to take classes in, no thrift stores, no classes you can take just to learn and keep learning — they are here scattered and hidden or exclusive or not really friendly and another night spent trying to find my people but feeling like this city is only for people who already belong here or feel they deserve to belong here requiring so much effort to get too that I do not make the effort. In my Darling London, all this was less than a mile from my house! 

But -— what can you do if you live in your city and you don't like your city? What right do you have to actualize your dream vision of your city on that city and share it with your fellow citizens? 

Or should I just keep moving / move back to London?! And yet, I can't. My roots are here, my family is here, my community is here now. I feel stuck. It feels I will always have to sacrifice something. Is there a neighborhood in LA that has it all and in walking distance? Where one can be spontaneous and float and people are welcoming and friendly and inclusive and curious? Easy to find out what is going on and get involved! A city with its heart on its sleeve. A city that feels like a playground for adults... A city brimming with love! 

Not resentment. Not fear. Not entitlement. Not envy. Not narcissism. Where is that city? Have you found it yet, Siel?! I will move! 

Or have you come to a similar conclusion... that if that's the city you want, you must create it yourself? 

Sammy

Dear Sammy —

You have every right to try to actualize your dream vision of the perfect city where you live now. And you also have every right to seek out a different city that better fits your dream vision.

But your dilemma isn’t really about figuring out where to live, is it?

What stands out to me as your primary dilemma is this: You feel stuck. You feel life circumstances backed you into a corner. And now, you’re trapped.

So why do you feel trapped? You made your escape to your dream city once — but then went through tough times that necessitated your returning home to family. And your family was there for you and got you through! Now you say you’re ready to spread your wings again — but exigencies both practical (e.g. love of family, lack of loads of money) and existential (e.g. fear of not having a support system, fear of future tough times, fear that ALL CITIES ARE THE SAME despite the fact that to you London is extremely different from Calabasas) are keeping you where you are.

I think anyone who’s ever been in a bad place — the kind of bad place that brings your life as you knew it to a screeching halt and demands you devote all your energies to simply eking it through each day alive — can become understandably fearful of change. Honestly, I think that’s part of what kept me in Los Angeles for as long as I stayed there. Don’t get me wrong — I still love Los Angeles! I don’t have the feelings about it that you have about Calabasas. But while there I had bouts of depression that took me to bad places for months at a time, bouts that were difficult to pull out of, bouts that made me question my sense of self and, relatedly, what I dared expect or hope or dream of for myself in the future. 

My reasoning at that time was this: If daring to go after the things that I wanted ended up taking me to a very, very bad place in the past, perhaps I shouldn’t dare go after things at all. Perhaps instead of seeking joy or adventure or a playground for adults or a life brimming with love, I needed to set more sedate, muted goals, like mere existence. Perhaps I needed to resign myself to a mundane, predictable life free of surprises if I was to maintain this delicate equilibrium called sanity. Perhaps I was a fool for ever thinking life could be better than that, for believing I might deserve more. Perhaps I was safest exactly where I was, even if I thought I could be happier elsewhere. 

A safe life can be very comfortable. It can also feel very confining. 

That’s the basic conflict you’re facing right now. You’re comfy where you are — which you like — but you feel confined — which you don’t like. “It feels I will always have to sacrifice something,” you write, which I think is your way of asking: Why can’t I remain comfy, while also not feeling so confined? 

You’re asking: Why can’t I get to a different place, while staying in the exact same spot?

Well, because you can’t. 

Now I’m not saying that the dilemma you’re facing is entirely in the mind. It may also be true that the place you’re in right now truly isn’t the right fit for you. If I’m being real, Calabasas isn’t where I’d choose to live either. That said, I have an endless list of places I wouldn’t choose to live — Van Nuys, Lima, El Paso, Nairobi, Las Cruces, etc. etc. — all places that many thousands of other humans have chosen to live and seem to enjoy doing so.

What I’m saying is that you can choose to get to a different place, literally or metaphorically. But that’ll require leaving your comfort zone. It’ll mean taking some risks. It’ll mean tolerating some discomfort, some disappointments, some loneliness, some helplessness, maybe even some failures.

So: Are you willing to leave your comfort zone?

Leaving your comfort zone doesn’t have to mean hightailing it to South Korea, or India, or London. In fact, it doesn’t have to involve moving at all. From what I gather from your letter, the things you want from a city — walkability, cultural activities, nice people — aren’t extremely difficult to find.

Have you considered moving 25 miles or so east to, say, Los Feliz? Yes, it’s more expensive than the valley, but maybe you could find cool roommates on Craigslist or something. You are young, after all! Then you could walk to Bru Coffeebar and La Luz de Jesus Gallery and Skylight Theater Company and a different thrift store on every block and Skylight Bookstore, where two writers I know first met and became fast friends that today support each others’ creative pursuits. That might be one solution.

Or you could try living somewhere wildly different, if finances allow. You may love teaching English in South Korea! You may love returning to your old haunts in London! Yes, I understand things went sideways last time in London. With hindsight, do you have a sense of why that might have happened, and are there things you might try to mitigate the chances of the same happening in the future? If so, why not give London another try? The worst thing that could happen, it seems to me, is that you decide it’s not for you, or it’s too much, and you return back to Calabasas — which wouldn’t leave you any worse than where you started. 

Or you could simply create a different life for yourself in Calabasas. You make Calabasas sound like a completely unwalkable place with no cultural attractions and zero community. And while I’ll give you the unwalkable and no culture parts (hehe), I also have a friend in Calabasas who’s pretty much single handedly created a gigantic community of L.A. writers. That friend is David Rocklin, writer and instigator of Roar Shack, a beloved monthly reading series you’ve probably heard of as you’re a local. That event brings together people who are welcoming and friendly and inclusive and curious. It’s a place where you can find out what is going on and get involved! It has a writing game in the middle of each event so in a sense it’s like a playground for adults! And because it’s led by David, one of the nicest people ever, it’s brimming with love —

Would you be up for creating the community you’d like to see? 

Or — final choice here, I know this note is getting long — you could simply choose to look at your existing life in Calabasas with a different perspective. Because your statement — “It feels I will always have to sacrifice something” — is very much true, even if you embrace change to go after the things you want. Choose to travel solo and you’ll get to be free and floaty and do whatever the fuck you want — and you’ll lose out on the closeness and deep relationships you could have developed by staying in one place as a responsible member of a community. Choose to stay near your family and you’ll likely feel connectedness and belonging — and you’ll miss out on meeting all the other interesting people that could have changed your life for the better during your travels. By definition, whatever you choose, you lose out on the inverse. You say Calabasas has given you family and community — and your health. I think the secret to a happy life may be focusing on what you’ve gained, versus what you’ve lost.

I noticed that on the one hand you say “my roots are here, my family is here, my community is here now” — but also seem to hint that you’re dissatisfied with the community you have. I’m genuinely curious what it is you’re looking for and what it is you feel you lack. It sounds like you have a solid sense of community support — which is what keeps you in Calabasas — yet this community for some reason also doesn’t feel like enough to you. Why might that be? Do you actually dislike the people who make up your community, putting up with them only because they’ll “tolerate you,” as you put it? Or is it that your existing community simply feels too small to you? Perhaps you’d just like to expand your community a bit — something you can accomplish either while living in Calabasas or by moving out of it. Is it that you’d like to be part of a community that’s more specifically literary? Or do you simply hunger to meet new people you don’t already know?

I’ll say this: Some cities are friendlier than others. In some cities, it’s normal to start random conversations with strangers; in others, less so. But I’ll also say this: Even in those more friendly cities, there are plenty of people with resentment, fear, entitlement, envy, narcissism. You’ll never escape those human qualities that are inherent in all of us. And even in the more reserved cities, if you make the first friendly move, strangers are likely to respond in kind. It’s actually sweet, how so many people all over the world wear their hearts on their sleeves. 

I’ll also point out that the reason you have roots, family, and community in Calabasas is that you chose to put down roots, invest in family, and develop a community in Calabasas. If you wanted, you could cultivate roots, family (the chosen kind), and community in a place you like better than Calabasas. It would take time, and effort, but you could do it. It’s what all people who leave their hometowns do.

Something in your note reminded me of how I felt about the community around me in my own twenties in Los Angeles. Like you, I was deeply dissatisfied with my life at that time, which in hindsight seems odd, because I had nice people who knew and liked me whom I liked back. Yet this didn’t feel like enough. Somehow I got it in my head that I needed a different, better community — one that was artsier or freer or floatier or more open with their love or whatever. I was chronically unhappy then. 

It was only after I decided that the community I had was the community I wanted that I truly began to enjoy my friendships.

But this is about you, not me. 

So, I’ll repeat something I said earlier: You are young! You could literally try ALL the options I’ve suggested above, one after the other, and still have time left over to try something else!

Too often, I think we feel the decisions we make have to be a step up from all previous decisions, and also more or less permanent. I get the sense that you feel if you move, you must create a life that’s at minimum 110% better than the life you have today — and if you end up returning to Calabasas again, you’ll have “failed.” That’s a lot of pressure to put on a decision when you don’t know what the future holds — and especially when, inevitably, your desires will change.

What if you saw it all as just a continuous experiment? What if you gave yourself the freedom to just try things? What if you allowed your dreams — and your idea of the dream city — to change and morph and transform as you do? You could turn your life in Calabasas topsy turvy to see if you like it better all shuffled around, or just try living in Los Feliz or London or Lima for a bit and see if you like it. You can find out if by leaving your comfort zone you find a community closer to your liking — and not see it as anything bad if you don’t. 

Are you ready to get unstuck? Even if it ends up not being what you’d expected? Even if it by all definitions ends up not working out? Even if you know you risk winding up right back where you started? 

Love,

Siel

With my friend Femi in Medellin

Three links you might love

1. Where should you live? The New York Times put together a quiz of sorts. My top result was San Francisco, followed by a bunch of other California cities plus Seattle and Portland….

2. Why are we feeling so much pressure to make big life decisions? “All around, it seems like life is being accelerated. We’ve gone from 0 to 100 and everyone is re-evaluating.”

3. Digital nomad is now officially a word, according to Merriam Webster, which added 20 new words to the dictionary.

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