I'm in LOVE & I don't care who knows!
I have been trying to move to Los Angeles for almost two years.
I mean, have you SEEN the LIGHT?
For those of you who have been listening to me talk endlessly about the light...
the mountains...
the horses...
my friends downtown...
the creative energy...
the desert...
the ocean...
and whatever other love letter I happened to be writing to Southern California that day...
I have news.
I'm finally moving!
And honestly?
I’m in love.
With Los Angeles.
And I don’t care who knows it.
There is something about being there that makes my whole body wake up.
The light feels different.
I notice the sky.
I notice color.
I notice myself wanting to get dressed and go somewhere.
I'm packing my bags...
I want to make things.
I want to meet people.
I want to drive into the mountains and find horses.
I want to sit somewhere with a ridiculous coffee and watch people walk by.
I feel curious there.
Alive.
Expansive.
And for a long time, that made the decision seem obvious.
If something gives you that much joy...
go toward it.
Except life is rarely that simple.
Because while I have been dreaming about Los Angeles...
I have also been living a life here.
I have people I love here.
Memories.
Routines.
Places that know me.
A version of myself that grew here.
And now that the move is actually happening, I’m discovering something I probably should have known by now:
Joy does not cancel grief.
They sometimes arrive together.
I can be wildly excited about where I’m going...
and deeply tender about what I’m leaving.
I can know that a decision is right...
and still grieve the life that made the decision possible.
I can drive south toward something I have wanted for years...
and still look in the rearview mirror.
That doesn’t mean I’m confused.
It means I’m human.
For years, so much of my work has centered around this idea that we are capable of holding more than one truth at a time.
Grief and joy.
Responsibility and peace.
Ambition and presence.
Love for what was...
and desire for what comes next.
This move is asking me to live that lesson in real time.
And maybe that’s why I want to tell you the story as it unfolds.
Not the polished version after the boxes are unpacked.
The actual version.
The sorting.
The letting go.
The moments when I find something in a drawer and suddenly I’m twenty years younger.
The things I thought I would keep forever that I’m suddenly ready to release.
The things I cannot imagine leaving behind.
The excitement.
The fear.
The ridiculous logistics.
The joy.
The grief.
All of it.
Because I don’t think transitions are simply about getting from one place to another.
They ask us to decide what comes with us.
What stays behind.
And maybe most importantly...
who we want to be when we arrive.
So this is the beginning.
I’m moving to Los Angeles.
I’m thrilled.
I’m emotional.
I’m probably going to talk about the light an unreasonable amount.
And I’m going to let myself love where I’m going without pretending that leaving doesn’t matter.
That feels like the most honest way I know to begin.
Welcome to the next chapter.
x
Julee
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