Leaving LA: A New Life I Didn’t See Coming
A new series on reinvention, relocation, and the life I never saw coming
Five years ago today, I left Los Angeles to be with the love of my life - never imagining I’d soon become a full-time stepparent with an entirely new vision for the future.
It was deep in the early days of Covid - back when saying goodbye meant standing masked, six feet apart. Los Angeles was tense with protest energy, helicopters overhead 24/7, boarded up storefronts and spontaneous flash mobs halting traffic as tensions erupted across the city in the wake of the BLM movement.
I was actually supposed to leave on the 26th, but I bumped it up by a week when things got so crazy I no longer felt safe living alone in my current space. I was afraid the country might unravel even more, and I wasn’t sure my stuff - most of which wasn’t traveling with me - would make it safely cross-country. Also: it was a dark time, and I was ready to go where there was a porch, my love and a frozen margarita waiting for me.
I had been a celebrity makeup artist in LA since I moved there in the early 2000s, and I genuinely loved it - but that work took a major pause once Covid hit, canceling most in person events. For two years before my move, I’d been traveling back and forth after reconnecting with “my favorite ex-boyfriend” (yes, truly) on Facebook in April 2018. We’d dated back in the mid-90s, when I was a wild punk rock kid living in Boston, and the moment we saw each other again in person - it was back on.
It felt like time had just been waiting for us to find our way back (I still feel that way every day).
Someday I’ll tell you the soulmate affirmations I was using when he ‘randomly’ reached out after 22 years!
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I lived in LA for almost 18 years. When I left, I’d finally landed a rent-controlled, freestanding cutie-pie bungalow in Silverlake (East Sider for life). I loved that little place - even if I never quite figured out how to transform the backyard (yes, I had a backyard). I tried, but my landscaping choices rarely hit the mark.
I miss my old neighborhood. My dear friend John D lived two blocks away - perfect for afternoon hangs and excellent distractions from adulting. I could walk down to Sunset and grab a specialty coffee or a bite from some new delish spot. I miss my old friends, the beauty community of LA (even with its caddiness), my clients, the food, the fashions, and the beautiful sunsets.
But I have zero regrets about leaving what might’ve been the only place that truly felt like home (until now).
I was born and raised on the East Coast until I was 26, but the West Coast holds more of my vibes and aesthetic. California energy with a New England attitude. You can’t live through these winters and not come out a bit scrappy! All those years learning how to be zen in LA, fully upended by a handful of seasons on the Massachusetts South Shore.
Honestly though, I’m not sure where else I’d rather be, even if I had the option. This little family is something I never imagined for myself, and now that I’m seven years into this second go-around, I can firmly say: you will find me wherever he is. And with that comes the radical acceptance of being somewhere entirely different than I had imagined for myself previously.
Starting over (at 45!) in a whole new environment is not for the faint of heart.
Realizing the path you were on is not the path you will be taking going forward is unnerving and exciting and a wild wild ride.
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This is the first chapter of my story - how I left the life I’d built to step into something unexpected. More to come…