I have always considered myself one of those hardcore New Yorkers who is obsessed with everything about the city. Even after living in Manhattan for over a decade, I still took daily walks and was awed by the buildings, the people, the sounds.

But is New York really truly where I want – or need -to be?

For so many years, I believed I couldn’t be genuinely happy anywhere but in the city. I craved the sound of passing ambulances and scoffed at suburban strip malls. So it was jarring but insightful to have a recent conversation with one of my best friends, someone who knows me better than anyone, about how NYC might actually be BAD for me.

We were talking about my new life in Vegas and I kept saying how I had nothing going on. What I really meant was no drama: boy drama, friend drama, stress about who to meet up with every night drama. The problem with my life in Manhattan is that I always have too much going on. I double book dinners and drinks a few times a week but then go out of my way to honor every commitment. I feel a need to try every new place that opens, immediately. I work too hard. I work out too much. I completely obsess over boys. Everything I do is over the top and my life becomes unmanageable.

But in Vegas, I’m actually pretty chill. Even though my job can be stressful, it’s good stress – the kind that makes me feel like I’m actually getting things done. And while I have made friends, I am careful (with the help of my observant therapist) not to cram too many things onto my schedule. I reserve a few nights a week to do yoga and have dinner at home – something I never, ever did in NYC, where my gas line in my kitchen was broken for 3 months and I didn’t even notice because I have only used the stove 4 times in eight years. And I refuse to get involved with the same kind selfish, narcissistic NYC boys I always found myself attracted to. Right now, being single means being stress-free.

And while I hated most things about living in South Florida, I was pretty anxiety-free there, too. For a while, at least.

Who knows when I’ll end up back in Manhattan. I know my path will lead me there again, at least for a little while. And I’m certainly not renouncing my hometown. That would be as unrealistic as, say, giving up the D-bags for good. But it’s interesting to realize that, for now, maybe the city I always thought was my number one true love might really just be as toxic as that bad boyfriend.

I’m on the plane heading back from a week in NYC and I’m crying. Like tears running down my face, my seatmate might be worried about me style. After spending an amazing 7 days with my best friends and family in the city I absolutely adore, I’m having separation anxiety – and I’ve only been gone for 4 hours.

Since moving to Las Vegas over 2 months ago (!!!) I have made an effort to settle and create a routine, but my job doesn’t make it easy. Some weeks I feel like a normal person living a normal life while other times, I feel completely overwhelmed and unsure of anything. It is Vegas, after all. Doesn’t that means the odds are against me? But I’m trying. I know I’m still adjusting to a completely new life and I try not to be too hard on myself for not being 100% comfortable with my West Coast existence. That still doesn’t make it any easier to be away from home.

And as I head back across the country, far away from the people and places I know the best, I can’t help but be sad. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to remember how this all happened and how I even got here. I was taking one of my daily strolls around the West Village this weekend, listening to depressing music, when I found myself tearing up at the thought of my time in NYC winding down. But then I smiled, grateful for an amazing trip where I got to see so many of my nearest and dearest. And as always, there was never a dull moment – but more on that later.

So I will bravely go back to my new life, embrace it and continue to enjoy this unbelievable opportunity and adventure – even if that means taking some time away from my number one love…