I Moved Across the Country for My Dream Job. Within a Year, I Realized I’d Made a Mistake.
I’ve loved video games for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I’d fight my brother for control of his Game Boy to play *Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3*. I poured hours into Neopets, grinding for Neopoints to care for my virtual pets, and I’d impatiently hover behind my mom while she played solitaire, waiting for my turn on *Frogger 2: Swampy’s Revenge*.
Yet I never saw games as a real career path. Instead, I chose the stability of military intelligence. Seven years in, I felt the creative void deeply. I missed writing, art, and work that connected me with people. That’s when I discovered UX design. I pursued a master’s degree, joined game jams, and started collaborating with indie developers.
The more I immersed myself in games, the clearer it became: the industry needed UX researchers—people who could truly understand players and champion their experience. For the first time, my passions and my professional life felt aligned.
I Thought I Had Landed My Dream Role
After nearly three years of freelancing, contract work, and side projects, I finally got the call: an interview for a UX research role at a major gaming studio. The process was grueling—six rounds of interviews, assignments, and endless emails. When the offer came, it felt like validation of every sacrifice I’d made.
There was just one catch: the job was in Southern California, nearly 3,000 miles from my life on the East Coast—including my boyfriend of over a year. The company offered no relocation support, so I took out a $12,000 personal loan. I also accepted a roughly $15,000 pay cut. Warning signs were there, but I told myself this was *the* opportunity. It would all be worth it.
The Move Felt Exciting—Until I Arrived
A friend and I made the cross-country drive in a vintage RV. We ate breakfast at Cracker Barrel, listened to romantic audiobooks, and talked about the future under starlit skies. For a few fleeting days, it felt like a grand adventure.
But beneath the excitement was grief. Leaving my partner hurt more than I had anticipated. I kept telling myself the distance was manageable, that our commitment would carry us through.
Reality hit hard the moment I arrived. I lugged my cats and belongings through the dry California air into a luxury apartment I’d rented sight unseen. It cost $1,000 more per month than my previous place and sat mostly empty—my furniture was still in storage back East. Loneliness settled in immediately, but I had no time to process it. Work started almost right away.
My Dream Job Became a Source of Anxiety
At first, I was ecstatic just to be there. On paper, it was everything I had worked toward. In practice, the pace was relentless. I was still learning the role, yet I constantly felt behind. Industry-wide instability only added to the pressure—layoffs at other studios were constant topics of conversation, and no one felt truly secure.
Long hours became routine. Evenings blurred together, and late calls with my partner were often the only thing keeping me afloat. One night in fall 2024, nearly a year into the job, I sat exhausted in my apartment as wildfires burned in the distance. The mountains outside my balcony glowed orange through the smoke. I looked around at the life I had built and realized I had sacrificed everything for a dream that no longer felt like mine.
That night, I decided to leave. I submitted my resignation shortly after.
Leaving California Helped Me Find the Life I Actually Wanted
I moved back East, settling less than an hour from my partner. After almost a year of only seeing each other twice, being close again transformed our relationship. Not long after, we got married. About a year later, we welcomed our first child.
I still love video games and still work in the industry—but now through freelance projects on my own terms. I have space for the parts of life that matter most outside of work.
It turns out my real dream wasn’t a job title or a big studio name. It was building a life with the person I love.