Last night over dinner, CodeMonkey and I assessed our move to New York City. We've been living here for six months now. For him, New York was synonymous with America, and he spent a couple years coaxing me into moving here. CodeMonkey feels his life has improved in almost every way since me got her. He loves the city, loves not having to drive, loves living near our friends, loves our neighborhood, etc. He remains a bit frustrated with his job and its (lack of) work-life balance, but on the whole, this move has drastically increased his net happiness.
I'm a lot more ambivalent. I enjoy not having to deal with the car; I enjoy my new job; I am taking advantage of the cultural opportunities the city affords. For me, life here is inexplicably exhausting. I don't know why, but I often feel completely wrung out by the tasks of daily life. It isn't helping anything that I've struggled to make friends, and that CodeMonkey's stress tends to become my stress. I often think I ought to be happy, but I'm not.
Life upstate was much more dull, but it was also very easy. Our income was comfortable for the area, and we would have bought a house in the next year or two. We met our savings goals and still had money left over to enjoy. I never found myself worrying about the future, which sometimes feels like my main hobby now. I'm spending a bit too much time dwelling on how much simpler things felt when we lived there.