Moving Across the Country During a Pandemic

I’ve done a lot of things in life by myself. When I was 19, I moved from my hometown in upstate NY to start a new life chapter in southern California. I was able to move in with distant family, but I would say that this was a big step for me in gaining my sense of independence as I didn’t know this part of my family well and had to learn how to do a lot of things on my own.

Since then, I’ve encountered many life adventures alone. I’ve gone solo camping in the Sequoias, taken a few road trips and backpacked across western Europe for 2 weeks (all magical experiences). When I was 27, I moved into my first apartment - just me and a space to call my own. In my mind, achieving that milestone meant I had truly “made it” in LA. I’ve started not one, but two businesses. And I’ve taken pride in doing these things by myself.

Over the past 12 years, I’ve conquered many things while calling Los Angeles my home. I’ve learned that if I want to do anything worthwhile, I can’t wait for others. And personally, as an independent introvert, it’s my preferred way of life. I love my friends and family, my community and support system, but there’s nothing like the feeling of figuring something out by yourself – and then looking back and saying “I did that.”

Now, I’m getting settled in after having embarked on my most recent solo adventure – driving across the country during a pandemic. I’ve always wanted to take a cross-country road trip, I just never imagined it would be under these circumstances.

Moving is one of the most stressful things a person can endure, moving during a pandemic is at least 10x that. Resources are limited. You have to be extra cautious with where you go, who you come into contact with, and stay protected. Donations pile up with nowhere to go because donation centers are closed. Moving crews were scarce and I had to endure a majority of this move on my own. It sucked. Fortunately, I have a few close friends who had been self-isolating for weeks so they were available to help out a little. But even then, we were trying to maintain social distancing measures as much as possible and it wasn’t always easy.

I know I’m not the only one moving during this time. I see a lot of people moving and rearranging their lives, and if you’re one of them – I feel for you. And I want you to know that you’re going to get through this. Because I had to tell myself every day, “I’m going to get through this.” And I did.

In the days and weeks leading up to my move, the idea of driving across the country to live with my family, during a pandemic, was a bit scary and overwhelming. I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to move everything out in time, or that my cat was going to die in the car. (I know this sounds like I’m exaggerating but that was a real fear). With state-wide lock-downs and travel restrictions increasing, my anxiety-ridden mind could only focus on the worst questions like “What if I get sick?” or “What if I get stopped at a state border and get in trouble for traveling?” or “What if I get trapped in a random city and am forced to quarantine there?” Things were constantly in a state of flux. News was changing almost every day. The unknowing of it all was a bit terrifying.

But, aside from all the fear of the unknowns, the idea of finally having the chance to drive across the country was also exciting for me. Road trips are my favorite. The solitude. The freedom. The time to think. Having the chance to see places I’ve never seen is one of life’s greatest joys.

The final days before the move were the most stressful. While I didn’t meet my deadline of when I wanted to move, I did manage to get out of the house by my move-out date. But not without one last shit storm and one final massive meltdown. After weeks of trying to balance moving alone, with working full-time, with the emotions from my breakup plus the emotions of trying to survive a pandemic, I was exhausted and drowning. Since I was planning on being out of my house the weekend before my move-out date, I had everything shut off – internet, power, gas - the day I moved out. Of course, I didn’t think of this in time and wound up having to finish moving, painting and cleaning in the dark with a headlamp and cell phone flashlight. It was awful.

But, after days of moving non-stop from the time I woke up until I went to sleep, and with the help of a few friends in face masks, I was able to move everything out of my house and either sell it, put it into a storage unit, or pack it up in my car. With the purchase of a bike rack and rooftop bag, I managed to fit everything I needed…including my cat, Ariya. And after a restful night in a friend’s spare room, I was ready to hit the road.

Overall, the drive was really smooth. There weren’t any police at the state borders or people stopping me for having California license plates. I wasn’t forced to quarantine in the middle of the country. All the fear and anxiety I felt about the trip prior to leaving turned out to be unnecessary (isn’t it always?) and I was quickly reminded how freeing it is to be on a solo adventure. Just me, Ariya, and 3,000 miles of open road.

My first day I made it to Green River, Utah. It only took 3.5 hours to get to Vegas (thanks to zero traffic). Driving through the western mountains and desert was incredibly beautiful with the tall painted rocks and wild flower covered landscapes. I stopped in a small town somewhere in Utah around dusk to get gas and a snack. I put on my mask as always and went inside the gas station. I noticed immediately that people weren’t wearing face masks. They were hanging out going about their normal business, there weren’t any signs posted. And it was strange. I felt out of place. So I asked the store clerk, “Are you not required to wear face masks in Utah?” And he said “No, but also our town has zero cases.” I was a little shocked. Coming from a big city that at the time had thousands of reported cases of Coronavirus, to end up in a town where they had zero cases put it into perspective that everyone is experiencing this pandemic differently.

Driving through Utah, there were signs alerting travelers to check in on the state website, but it wasn’t mandatory. They were just looking to keep track of who was coming in from where. When I got to the inn in Green River, I used disinfectant to wipe down all the table top surfaces and handles/light switches before getting settled in. This was a normal routine for me throughout the trip.

On day 2, I drove through the Rockies into Denver. I hit a little traffic where they were doing construction by the Colorado River, but otherwise it was another day of smooth driving and open roads. Driving at high elevations, I drove through snow. Fortunately it wasn’t snowing hard, so it was a refreshing site to see as I didn’t get the chance to go to the snow this winter. I stopped in Denver to say “hi” to a friend. We caught up briefly while standing 6 feet away from each other. It was nice to get out of the car for a bit before continuing on to my destination. I had originally planned to make it to Nebraska on day 2, but I stopped about an hour outside of Denver so I could get some work done before calling it a night.

Day 3 was possibly the most boring leg of the trip. I drove through Nebraska, which is just one long, flat road that passes through flat, open farmland. It’s actually quite pretty to look at. But the lack of change in scenery does make for a long and somewhat boring drive. The highlight of my day was stopping for gas and only paying $16.00 to fill up my tank. Yes, I said $16.00.

I made it pretty far on day 3 though as I drove on through to Des Moines, Iowa. You know the moment you’re about to enter Iowa because the landscape changes and there are more hills. I caught one of the most beautiful sunsets in Iowa, as the sun cast down over the hilly farms and wind turbines. It was the kind of sunset that sparks hope and inspiration. That’s what gave me my second wind so I could make it through to Des Moines.

By day 4 of my road trip, I was beginning to get a little restless and feel a bit tired. Before I left Des Moines, I stopped at Bruegger’s Bagels for breakfast and could feel that I was closer to home. I could tell Ariya was getting tired of the car ride as well. Cats don’t like riding in cars, or at least mine doesn’t. She spent a majority of the drives tucked in to a small hole between my bags and boxes. But I kept on trekking and drove into Toledo, Ohio. As I drove through, there were signs on the road reminding people to stay home and practice social distancing. Some places trying to be a little more clever than others. I got into Toledo that night just in time, because not long after settling down at the inn it started down pouring. Thankfully that was over by morning, but holy fuck was it cold there.

Day 5 was my final leg of the trip. By this point, I knew I was on the east coast. The landscape, the architecture, all of it reminded me of upstate NY. I drove along Lake Erie, the wind and the cold air following me through. I drove in and out of patches of snow flurries as I made my way through Ohio and Pennsylvania into western NY. Snowing in April isn’t unheard of on the east coast, but it’s not exactly normal either. Arriving in NY and seeing that “Welcome to NY” sign made my day. (Driving through toll booths was interesting as they’re recording license plates to send a bill rather than collecting money at the booths.)

I stopped in Rochester for some pizza and gas and to say hi to my sister-in-law from her doorway. I debated staying because I was tired, but I was so close I decided to keep going on to Albany. I called an old friend to help me stay awake on the drive. One of the better things that’s come of this lock-down is getting in touch with people I normally don’t speak to often. And before I knew it, I was pulling up to my parents’ house. I finally made it.

Driving across the country during a pandemic was interesting. The roads were mostly empty. Food options were limited due to many of the roadside food stops being closed. Fewer people in middle America wear masks, but their numbers in those towns are also a lot lower to my understanding. The differences from town to town in posted signs, restrictions, and requirements fluctuated. State borders aren’t closed or patrolling like I feared they would be. Hotels are mostly empty and easy to book. There were plenty of people on the road in moving trucks or hauling trailers, probably doing the same exact thing I was which is seeking shelter at a safer and more comfortable place.

I do believe sheltering at home and social distancing is important during this time. So please don’t take this as an open invitation to travel. (However, if you’re in a similar situation and find yourself needing to travel, know that it’s possible.) Fortunately, I’m not sick and wasn’t exposed to the Coronavirus, to my knowledge. But those small towns I passed through that seem safe, are actually some of the most vulnerable communities.

Leaving my friends and my life in LA for an indefinite amount of time was really sad and emotional. Not being able to say “goodbye” or “see you soon” felt like the biggest Irish Goodbye a person can commit. But it also made things easier in a way and leaving LA felt like the right thing to do. It took me weeks of convincing myself that this move was the best thing for me. When you feel like you’re being forced out of your home because you’ve lost a portion of your income and can’t afford to stay in LA…when you’re 31 years old and the idea of moving home feels like admitting failure (even though it’s not), it’s hard to WANT to do something you feel like you NEED to do. But now I can confidently say this move was the best thing for me, and it was exactly what I needed.

Driving solo across the country allowed me to regain so much clarity and inspiration I felt I had lost – as any good solo adventure should. Since leaving LA, I feel like my mind is clearer than it’s been in months. My anxiety and stress levels have decreased. Being in a smaller town with fewer cases, the threat level feels lower. And I’m finally in a place where I’m no longer in survival mode. So, while living with my family after almost 12 years of living on my own presents its own challenges, I can truthfully say that I’m happy to be home.