It’s been just over 2 months since I packed up my life in Las Vegas and moved back home to New York City. When it finally all happened, it seemed very sudden – I resigned  from my job and was living back on the East Coast within two weeks.

But in reality, the end of my Sin City adventure had been a long time coming. Without getting into details, it was basically an unsustainable situation from the start – the job, the lifestyle, the inability for me to build any semblance of a normal routine. I was pulling all-nighters like a college student and drinking at least 7 nights – and multiple days – a week. I popped in for the occasional yoga class, and read about 1 in every 5 issues of the New Yorker. I just felt unsettled often.

And while I ended up moving back home to an apartment just minutes from the one I owned for nearly a decade and sold just weeks before aborting Mission: Vegas (ha ha, universe), the plan was not to return to NYC. I had Los Angeles in my sights and was excited about a move to the West Coast, the beaches, the year-round perfect weather. I daydreamed about cruising on the PCH and balancing my days with client meeting, yoga and juices.

But alas, another interesting – yet unexpected, opportunity in NYC presented itself. I followed my gut and went with it, just as I had when I booked a one-way ticket to Las Vegas after visiting only twice in my life and with one friend and no family to speak of within hundreds of miles. But I had made it through, basically unscathed, and was up for the next challenge.

The furniture had been sold and the remaining items moved to storage when I moved in with my generous and amazing friend Melissa a month prior, when I started to put the exit plan gears in motion. So I packed a handful of boxes and suitcases and got yet another one way ticket – this time, home.

Now back in NYC after 378 days away, I am still adjusting. Some things have changes since I’ve been gone; others not at all. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay or what the next chapter will be. But one thing I do know is that I took a giant risk – personally and professionally – when I uprooted my entire life and moved to Las Vegas just over a year ago. I was terrified. I was scared of failing at my job, of not meeting any friends, of being too homesick.

None of those things happened. And I am a much different, and stronger, person now because of it.

Here in this familiar city that I have loved and adored for years, I sometimes find myself missing Las Vegas and the amazing people I met there. And I wonder if…when…life might bring me back.