What I've Learned Since Quitting My Job, Moving to New York City, and Starting My Own Business

Notes on the quiet, messy, and beautiful parts of starting over

Six months ago, I left my job with no backup plan, moved to New York, and decided to build something of my own. I didn’t have a full roster of clients, a polished business plan, or a perfectly curated portfolio. What I did have was a background in brand strategy, a desire to create, and the kind of restlessness that doesn’t go away until you act.

What followed has been exciting and overwhelming in ways I expected, and quietly disorienting in ways I didn’t. Not quiet in the sense of being slow, but in the way things get quiet when you're suddenly on your own. No team to check in with. No one giving direction or feedback. Just me, my Google Docs, my camera roll, and this city pulsing forward around me while I tried to make something real.

I eased into it. I sent out pitches and made mood boards. Rewrote my portfolio more times than I’d like to admit. Took meetings that didn’t go anywhere until one finally did. I started a newsletter, I launched a product, I posted reels I wasn’t sure anyone would care about. Some of them flopped, while others landed better than expected. That in-between space, where you’re creating without knowing how it will land, has become oddly familiar. It’s where most of the past six months have taken place.

Living in New York has shaped this process in ways I didn’t anticipate. I’ve lived in other cities, but there’s something about being here that keeps your senses turned all the way up. The pace forces you to pay attention to things, like he color of someone’s coat against a gray sidewalk or the way light moves through the window of a coffee shop in late afternoon. The quiet contrast that exists inside a city constantly in motion. I didn’t expect this to influence my work, and I didn’t understand how much of my job would just be paying closer attention. These details changed the way I shoot, how I write, and how I approach brand strategy for both myself and my clients.

One of the most important shifts has been understanding that aesthetics are not surface-level. A beautiful photo or a well-shot video carries meaning when it’s rooted in intention. When it reflects a feeling, captures a mood, or communicates something real about a brand or a moment in time. Content is not decoration, it’s strategy. And the more I pay attention to the why behind what I’m creating, the more my work starts to feel like mine.

Working for yourself comes with a strange kind of freedom. There’s room to experiment, but no built-in structure. No one telling you what to prioritize or whether you’re doing enough. It’s easy to question your own pace. Easy to feel like you should be doing more, or doing it differently. What’s helped is shifting away from productivity as a checklist and instead focusing on momentum. I ask myself whether I moved something forward today, even just a little. That has become my measure of progress.

Even with that sense of freedom, I’ve had to be more intentional about building connection into my days. Without co-workers or a set routine, it’s easy to slip into your own bubble. I’ve learned to reach out to other creatives, to send voice notes when I need a sounding board, and to share what I’m working on even when it’s not fully polished. That willingness to be seen mid-process has made everything feel more human and a lot less lonely.

The work itself keeps shifting. What started as a newsletter and a name for my creative studio has turned into something much more layered. The City Select now holds merch, pitch guides, digital resources, visual storytelling, content creation, brand strategy, and a growing list of ideas I haven’t even built yet. It doesn’t always fit into a clean elevator pitch, and I’m learning to be okay with that. I’m not chasing a single, buttoned-up version of success. I’m building something that can evolve with me.

Six months in, I’ve learned that growth isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always come with a dream client or a viral post or some defining moment. Sometimes it shows up as a quiet sense of knowing. Trusting your gut a little more than you used to. Saying no to the wrong projects, even when they look good on paper. Believing that the work you’re doing will add up, even if the payoff doesn’t happen right away.

If you’re sitting with an idea or standing on the edge of a big decision, I won’t pretend this path is easy. It’s vulnerable. It’s uncertain. It asks more of you than a traditional path might. But if there’s something in you that feels ready (or tired of waiting) then that might be your sign. You won’t have all the answers on day one. You might not even feel remotely ready. But clarity has a way of showing up once you start moving.

I’m still figuring it out. But for the first time in a long time, it feels like I’m figuring it out on my own terms.