• I thought I'd live in New York City forever, but I hit my breaking point and moved to Nashville.
• I could enjoy many things I love about city life and get more space for less. I even fell in love.
• It's been about a decade since my move, and I'm happily living here with my husband and two kids.

New York or nowhere. It's a T-shirt and an Instagram, but it was also my personal motto for most of my young life.

I was born in the Bronx, got my first post-college apartment in Queens, spent nearly a decade in a fifth-floor walk-up in Manhattan, and brought my first baby home to Brooklyn.

In high school and college, I spent time living in Connecticut, Poughkeepsie, and Scotland, but always felt the draw back to NYC.

By age 30, I'd spent most of my life in the city, and was living my own NYC dream working at a buzzy women's media company.

I had never imagined living anywhere else. Then, I hit my breaking point.

After a reality check, I gave myself permission to leave New York

New York wasn't just my city; it was a huge part of my identity.

However, I was burned out at my job, underpaid, and commuting hours on the subway between Manhattan and my shoebox of an apartment in Crown Heights.

I was paying a nanny most of my salary just so I could have the privilege of … not seeing my newborn.

After each day speed-editing dozens of articles and pumping breastmilk in a closet at the office, I would sprint to the subway at 7 p.m. in hopes of seeing my son while he was still awake.

I would never make it back in time. I'd kiss his sleeping face, pay the nanny, and cry.

By the time my son outgrew his bassinet and needed to transition to a crib, it became clear my tiny apartment was too small for us.

A crib and an adult bed didn't fit in the space, so I gave the latter away and spent the last six months of my New York life sleeping on a bedroll on the floor.

And I finally gave myself permission to consider the impossible: leaving. I just wasn't sure where to go next.

Nashville wasn't the plan, but it was the answer

I knew I wanted to live in a city, but I needed somewhere cheaper (and way more chill) than New York.

I didn't want to relive my teen years in the Connecticut suburbs, or even that blissful but too-quiet year in college when I lived on the coast of northern Scotland.

I wanted my son to grow up in a real community: walking to public school and the playground and pizza parlor like I did as a little kid in the Bronx. I wanted to take him to museums and music venues.

Soon, Nashville was on my radar — once I factored in my other wants, it seemed like the biggest, most diverse, most affordable city I could afford.

I told my employer I was moving, and that I could quit or they could let me go remote. They let me keep my job. I bought a four-bedroom house in East Nashville with a monthly mortgage that was close to half my rent in Brooklyn.

My new block had coffee shops, bars, a pharmacy, a pizza parlor, a bodega, and a vintage store that was also an art gallery that was also a music venue. So Brooklyn! I felt right at home.

Sure, at first everything felt … slow. I didn't live near downtown, so the bustle dial was turned way down.

Initially, it was hard to sleep without sirens and shouting outside my window. But as the weeks turned into months, I started to notice I was breathing easier.

Nashville gave me more space — not just physical space (for a crib and a bed, imagine!) but space in my day that was no longer spent commuting, hauling a stroller up and down stairs, and rushing to the laundromat.

It gave me more accessible green spaces than New York had; my son and I could be out on a hike within 20 minutes, no Metro-North train ride necessary.

Without a long commute, I had time to make real dinners, to lounge on porches, and to get to know my neighbors. I made friends, joined a nonprofit, and started teaching yoga at the local studio.

I had the emotional space to date around casually and have fun.

When my son was 2 ½, I met one particular musician. He was calm but passionate, goofy but grounded, Southern polite but also punk rock. He loved my son.

By year five in Nashville, we were married. Year six, he adopted my son. That same year, our second son was born.

Moving was the best decision I was scared to make

There's a common fear among people who leave big cities that we're somehow giving up. I definitely felt it.

I worried that moving to a smaller city would mean trading ambition for comfort. My work changed, yes.

I later shifted away from a traditional media job into freelance and consulting work, but I'm making more money now since I'm paid per project rather than being expected to work endless hours for an unchanging salary.

Now, I work smarter, not harder. I live smarter. I've stopped defining myself solely by my ever-climbing corporate media job title, or my precious 917 area code.

Nashville gave me the space to grow in unexpected directions. I have a garden, I volunteer, and I made friends who didn't care about who I worked for. I built a community that is unparalleled in its supportive and radically inclusive nature.

This city isn't perfect, but it's become home. At the time, leaving New York felt like the biggest risk of my life. Today, I think of how scared I was of the best decision I ever made, and laugh.

It's been nearly a decade since I left New York, and although I still visit my "hometown" often and miss it dearly sometimes, I don't regret the move for a second.

Well, maybe I just regret not leaving 10 years earlier.

• After a major heartbreak, I pack up and move to a new city — sometimes, even a different continent.
• It makes it easier for me to heal from the heartbreak.
• I've done this three times, and I'm not about to stop now.

Some people cope with a breakup by starting a new hobby, throwing themselves immediately back into dating, or finally giving in to those BetterHelp ads. Me? I pack up my life and book a one-way flight to a new city, sometimes even a different continent.

It started in 2014 after a brutal three-month run: a breakup, a messy rebound, and getting fired from a brand-new job. I was sitting at home in Johannesburg, doomscrolling on Facebook, when an email came through from an airline offering a deal on flights to Cape Town, South Africa. My interest? Piqued. My credit card? Ready to swipe. My impulse control? At an all-time low.

I booked a flight for the following week and immediately began boxing up my room at my mom's into three small boxes and sending out invites for farewell drinks at my favorite bar. Little did I know, this major life decision I had made in less than 60 seconds would go on to start a pattern of shaking up my surroundings to an extreme after heartbreak. I did it again in 2021, when I left Cape Town for Namibia, and last year, I said bon voyage to South Africa and moved to France.

Moving after a break-up means I get to break old habits

Is making a major move after a breakup a little dramatic? Absolutely, but there is a method to my madness. Every move forces me to confront the post-breakup identity crisis and answer the million-dollar question: Who am I without anyone else?

Starting over in a new place strips away all the relationship compromises, shared daily routines, and habits. The only thing left is me: my habits, my desires, and my identity beyond another person.

It gives me the space to figure out where I may have been performing in the relationship and identify where I lost myself. The crisis I had where I wondered whether I was changing my mind about having kids? It turns out I was never unsure about having children — I always knew deep down that it wasn't my path. I was just too scared to choose myself and lose my partner in the process.

During my last relationship, I stopped doing all the things I love: DJing, hiking, and going to festivals. It wasn't until it ended and I moved yet again that I realized how much I'd been missing out on when I found myself in Paris at a rave, cheezing so hard my cheeks hurt, asking myself, "How did I forget how much I loved this?"

It's taught me the art of being alone, not lonely

I believe my heartbreak wanderlust has helped me avoid the trap of using other people as emotional Band-Aids instead of processing the pain and grief after a break-up. My self-imposed exile gives me the space to sit with my emotions without any familiar distractions (after all, you can't call up your roster or ex when you're 7,000 miles away in France). It's a launchpad to a life of independence and self-confidence, where I'm showing myself every day how capable I am without someone else, each time I figure out something new.

That said, should everyone move to a new city after a break-up? If you have a remote career like mine and no responsibilities tying you to a specific location, I'd say go for it. Being in a completely different city soothes the sting of rumination because nothing is familiar.

The first time I moved after a breakup was on impulse. When I realized it was helping me process what had happened and improve my relationship with myself, I got curious and wanted to know why. I learned that when I create new memories and daily habits, I'm training my brain to form new associations that aren't tied to my ex. So when I move, I'm rewiring neural pathways, and I'm spending less energy stuck in a loop replaying the same old story.

But if you can't move cities, plan a solo trip for two weeks. You'll still get to reap the benefits of taking yourself out of the familiar and give your heart and brain the chance to reset and interrupt the emotional ties.

It's an incredible heartbreak cure, and reader, it's probably the greatest gift I've given myself.

• Debbie Boyd moved to Panama with her 97-year-old mother for lower costs and healthcare options.
• Boyd, a retired real estate broker, sought a more affordable lifestyle with different politics.
• Boyd said Panama has offered a vibrant culture and supportive community for her and her mother.

This as-told-to interview is with Debbie Boyd, 71, who moved to Panama from Atlanta with her 97-year-old mother, Doris Britto, who has dementia. Boyd and Britto moved in early 2025 and have enjoyed their time so far. Boyd has particularly appreciated the medical resources and lower cost of living abroad. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

I moved to Panama in March this year, and my mother followed a few weeks later. I had always considered the possibility of relocating outside the US and had looked into moving for a couple of years before I retired. I read about the lower cost of living being less, but I think what spurred my action was the political climate.

My first impression is that I love it here. The people in Panama are very friendly and caring. Our goal now is to get more entrenched in this new life.

I've had a number of different careers

My mom and I are both native New Yorkers. She was a long-distance operator for the New York Telephone Company for over 40 years. I relocated to Atlanta in 1983, and my mom followed me there in 1986, when she retired. We were in the Atlanta area up until this year.

She traveled with her friends and helped me raise my son. She became active in some senior citizen groups in the area.

I had a couple of careers. I've been a real estate broker with my own residential real estate firm, worked as an administrative assistant, and taught classes in criminal justice for online universities as an adjunct professor. I retired in 2016.

I found that I was becoming bored and wanted to make better use of my time. After retiring, I took swim classes, got together with friends for lunch, and traveled.

After I initially retired, I took about one year to decompress and give some thought as to what I wanted for the next phase of my life. I spent mornings reflecting over a healthy breakfast and good coffee. I enrolled in Water Zumba classes and started a walking regime. I also used this time to reconnect with friends and making quite a bit of lunch dates with my former tennis team members.

I went back to work after a couple of years in a work-from-home position.

In 2018, I got a bladder cancer diagnosis, and it involved a serious surgery. I wasn't well enough to take care of my mother, though she and I lived together. She moved into a nursing home and lived there for seven years.

Once I determined earlier this year that I was going to move to Panama, I asked my mom if she wanted to come. She said she did.

I decided that it was probably best for both of us. Otherwise, she would be in Atlanta, and I would be abroad. My son and grandchildren are grown up and have very active lives, so I knew she would be pretty much alone in the nursing home, which I didn't want for her. Panama checked a lot of the boxes. Healthcare seemed excellent, and I had a friend who retired there who answered my questions.

At the time, we were doing fine financially. We're not wealthy people, but we've worked our whole careers, paid bills on time, handled finances responsibly, and have good credit. But things have gotten so tight in the US; it's really hard to make ends meet as a retiree living off of Social Security and a small pension.

As an African American, I feel we are being targeted and knowledge of our proud heritage is constantly under assault.

The first few weeks abroad involved managing many logistics

I did three scouting trips. I wanted to come first to find a place that was suitable for us logistically. My mother's in a wheelchair, so I looked for a place that was more level. We got as much paperwork done as we could ahead of time so she could leave her facility.

My son made time to help me out by bringing my mother a few weeks later. I set up an appointment with a doctor, and he was able to see her within a week of her getting here, making sure we could transfer her medications and prescriptions.

My mom told me that since I'm here and I've handled everything, she's happy and has enjoyed it so far. She came down with a cold a few weeks ago and lost her appetite, but she started eating again and felt better. She's happier to not be in a nursing home environment. We're now looking to find more activities we can participate in together.

My friend who retired here introduced me to another person who had a sister with MS and who connected me with a home care agency. A young lady comes in six days a week to tend to my mom; she helps bathe her, prepare her meals, change her sheets, and do her laundry.

I get much more home for the same price here

Rental prices are a little higher than what I expected they'd be, but there's a gamut of price ranges. I've seen everything from $500 a month up to beyond $3,000 where I'm located. I have a four-bedroom house, an in-ground pool in the backyard, a very large living room, dining room, and kitchen.

The rent is $1,500 a month, a bit more than what I was paying for my mortgage on my house in the States, the mortgage on which is $777 a month. I still own my home. However, there have been recent property tax and home owner insurance increases and I estimate my mortgage will be approximately $250 more in 2026. I get so much more for the same amount of money.

The utilities aren't too bad. One month, I had a $70 bill, but the next month was $300. Each bedroom has its own individual air conditioning unit, so we're trying to figure out when to run it and for how long.

I'm still doing some paperwork and making phone calls to get things settled. A couple of friends have come to visit, and my son has come three times. I have a lot more company coming over the next two months.

I handle my business here like I would at home; I go to the grocery store, the bank, and the pharmacy. I take Ubers because I don't want to drive here; they drive really fast. An Uber one-way is about $2.20.

I'm still getting acclimated

I've discovered, though, that Panamanians love to party and love music. There are also always dogs barking early in the morning and late at night, so I'm trying to get used to the noise.

We don't live in an expat neighborhood. I wanted to be immersed in Panamanian culture. It's been about two months since we've been here, but I haven't had much of a chance to meet our neighbors yet. All of the houses are gated individually, so it's not like you can just walk up to your neighbor's front door.

But when I go to the mall, people talk with me. When they realize I only speak a little Spanish, everybody's helpful, pleasant, and willing to help me find things.

I haven't gotten to eat out much, but I've gotten really into going to the market and getting fresh fruit and vegetables. The hospital near me has a program where they will accept Medicare Advantage if you have an emergency situation and are hospitalized, which I'm applying for. I'm also applying to a program that's $220 a year to have any tests, blood work, or lab work done. I have Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), and I was on oxygen when I was back home. I haven't had to use it since I've been here.

My goal now is to get more involved with expat groups. I joined one recently and went to a very nice luncheon, where I met new people. I hope to continue expanding my social network. I plan to make this my new home and get more involved in volunteering.