One year ago today, I moved to Seattle.

I tend to limit disclosure of my personal life on social media, rarely posting about new jobs, major milestones, weekend outings, or, in this case, a big move. Snippets of my life are shared on my Instagram (@misterkchung), but it only touches on the greater narrative.

I know some of you did not know I moved to Seattle until well after the fact. Some of you may not even know I am in Seattle now. And I know many of you do not know why, or may have your assumptions as to why I moved here. And I am sure many of you do not know what I am doing now.

As the rain makes it return for the season, I am caught in vivid memories of my beginning in Seattle. While I do not usually share much of my personal life on social media, this past year has demonstrated the power of storytelling and owning your narrative.

I have attempted to capture my past year on this page, and I am sharing it with you all.

This is my story.

On November 1, 2015, I left with a one-way plane ticket and three suitcases to travel over 2000 miles to a city I had never been to before.

No, I did not move here for someone. I did not move here for a job with Amazon or Microsoft or Boeing or for any big company or an innovative tech firm. Unlike many young professionals and recent college graduates moving to Seattle in recent years, I had a different start.

I moved here without a full-time job. I have no family in the area. And I worked as a barista at Tully’s Coffee.

Goodbye, Michigan.

Hello, Seattle.

I went to Little Oddfellows Café a few weeks ago to satisfy my sweet tooth and escape the rain. As I set my chocolate chip cookie down and reached for my laptop, my mind raced back to when I first arrived in Seattle and sat in that very same corner seat.

Then, I was attempting to assuage my guilt of spending money on a chai latte. Then, I felt disillusioned at the numerous tabs of job postings I had open in my browser. Then, I was desperately searching for motivation to write yet another cover letter. Then, I was trying to get myself into a better housing arrangement.

Then, I was in a much different place.

When people asked, “What brought you to Seattle?”, I struggled to authentically explain everything. I could attempt to narrate the first couple of weeks prior to and after moving. I could tell people the facts:

• After graduating from the UM, I had a part-time unpaid internship in Traverse City and a part time position at a parking garage. I moved back in with my parents afterward without any job prospects and continued searching for employment with no avail.
• On November 1, 2015, I left with a one-way plane ticket and three suitcases to travel over 2000 miles to a city I had never been to before. I (half) planned my move in about 2.5 weeks. I did not have a full time job, and I did not know many people.
• I felt I needed to move away from home to grow. Given my entry level experience, I believed I would have a better chance finding a job out of state if I lived there. Seattle caught my attention as a fairly progressive city with ample opportunities to explore the natural wonders of the Pacific Northwest. It was a city that was not too big, but not too small. I moved here to start my postgraduate life.
• My initial housing arrangement was, in a nutshell, unexpectedly deplorable. Like the place, the situation was a sticky mess. I only came home to sleep and spent time outside of work wandering around Seattle. I dedicated my free time to finding a new place to live and hastily moved out after two very discomforting week. That was the fifth time I moved in 2015.
• I started as a barista at Tully’s Coffee my second day in Seattle and stayed with them until February 2016. This was my fifth job in 2015. I worked with some extraordinary individuals who made Seattle feel like home. I credit them for my sanity during those first few months here.
• I applied to at least 49 jobs. I networked with a few professionals in the greater Puget Sound region. I only received 3 interviews. I ended up with one job offer, and I took it. I currently work at the University of Washington’s Office of Global Affairs doing administrative work.

Some would say that what I did is “cool.” Some responded with reverence; that I am “brave.” Some would argue this is an abhorrent parade of privilege. Others expressed indifference, confusion, concern, or caution.

But when people would ask, “So how do you like Seattle?,” I hesitated.

My short response was: Seattle is beautiful and a welcome change from Michigan. I’m still getting settled, but there’s so much to do and I’m happy to be here so far.

However, I struggled to tactfully articulate my “real feels” and share what life in Seattle was really like for me those first few months.

A more truthful response would have been: Seattle seems great, but to be honest, my impressions are colored with looming woes. I am emotionally drained from trying to reestablish myself in a new city, especially with some unexpected hurdles. I am trying to remain optimistic and retain my wellness but it has been a struggle. I will hopefully like Seattle soon.

Securing a full-time job was exhausting and belittling. It felt like a part-time job itself, and I was failing miserably. I obsessively scoured job boards and kept looking for the new best way to write my cover letter and resume. I was shackled with guilt when I didn’t look for jobs in my free time or didn’t meet my application submission quota, even if I was exhausted from working a busy shift at Tully’s. I compared myself to other young professionals in Seattle living comfortably, and I felt incompetent. I compared myself to friends and colleagues who posted about their new job or big milestone on social media, and I felt flustered. It drove me to question my intelligence, my merit, my degree, and my self-worth. My ambition dwindled and I felt defeated.

Establishing a social network in Seattle was challenging. When people would ask “What do you do?,” I winced. I wanted to be enthusiastic: I wanted to meet new people. I could go to social events or swipe my way through hundreds of potential connections on as many dating apps as possible, but my mind was shaded gray and I did not feel emotionally capable of investing time and energy into a new relationship. I also wanted to be authentic: I wanted to share my story and my aspirations without conflating my response to a simple, “I work at a coffee shop”. But I also didn’t want to seem unrelatable, boastful, or desperate. I know my challenges were not unique, but I felt alone. I was not looking for sympathy for my situation or praise on my big move–I was looking for friendship, tact, and laughter.

I lost equilibrium and had to work diligently on practicing self-care. I underestimated the impact of falling out of routine, and I needed new outlets. I was no longer playing piano, cooking as much, trail running in Northern Michigan, or grabbing lunch with close friends. Various dimensions of my wellness were not being supported, and I felt it.

Then, I was trying to find my bearings in the darkness of the rain. Then, I began to question my move to Seattle.

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One year later, I am in a better place.

Around the time I accepted the job offer from the UW, the gloom of winter started to fade. I embraced the uncertainty of my life in Seattle and grew my roots over time. Little did I anticipate all that would happen in the next couple of months:

• I developed an intimate social network of wonderful people in Seattle, and they mean the world to me.
• I was featured on a mini-episode of WNYC Studios’ podcast Death, Sex, and Money, sharing the song that got me through big life changes. (Yes, I still dance it out to Miracle Mile from time to time).
• I learned to “adult” as best as I could, whatever that means.
• I witnessed the opening of three new Sound Transit Link Light Rail stations.
• I met a boy, and we started dating.
• I said farewell to life in the closet.
• My sister married a wonderful man.
• I traveled around the Pacific Northwest and the West Coast.
• I pushed myself to explore as much of Seattle as possible. This city is gorgeous.
• I had lovely visitors and I have reconnected with friends, colleagues, and former coworkers from various points in my life who came to Seattle.
• I am now in my third apartment in Seattle. I moved in with a really great roommate in a cozy apartment in Capitol Hill, and I am nesting well.
• I was accepted as a graduate non-matriculated student in the UW Urban Design & Planning department, and am now taking a class on land use planning.

There are even more stories about living in Seattle I could share in greater detail. They could form a podcast series with episodes including:

• “The Seattle Freeze can be kinda cool”
• “Two degrees of separation: The Seattle web of dicks”
• “We’re commute buddies but we never say hi”
• “Yeah I live here but who cares, I’m still carrying an umbrella”
• “Beers and tears make for a good bath”
• “Amazon, gentrification, homelessness, and other lingering woes”
• “How mild can Kevin get?”
• “The soundtrack to my move”
• “You used to call me on my cell phone late night but now there’s this annoying time zone difference”
• “What are all these blue flags with the number 12 on them?!”

Time flew by these past couple of months in Seattle. Spring quickly turned to summer, and the sun illuminated the shades of gray in my mind.

And in that time, I found balance, I found my bearings, and I found laughter.

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I broke off a piece of my chocolate chip cookie and sat in the corner seat in Little Oddfellows Café with a distant gaze, listening to the rain. My mind was restless looking back on my time in Seattle so far.

A year ago, I was searching for direction. I flung myself into the world and took a risk, embarking on a blurry path. I did not know where that path led to, but I knew I should follow it. I have had tremendous support from friends and family, and I am forever grateful.

While life does not fall short of challenges and pains, I am in a better place now than I was a year ago. I have failed, I have learned, and I have grown.

The path ahead remains blurry, and it’s difficult to say what I will be doing a year or two down the road. And you know what? I am okay with that.

When I told a friend that I was moving to Seattle last year, he said that everything makes sense in hindsight.

I’m starting to think he’s right.

This piece was originally published on this page.