Goodbye, Hollywood

I'm writing this final newsletter from the apartment I've called home for the past six years. (Not final as in there will be no more newsletters or blogs…just the final one from this space. 😊.)

I'm a mess. Not in an emotional, crying-on-the-floor kind of way. More in the, "I've spent all day moving boxes and desperately need a shower," kind of way. But before I packed up one more thing, I wanted to sit down and write this.

Even though my official move day isn't until Monday, I know this chapter is already coming to a close.

As much as I loved this little apartment, I'm ready to say goodbye to the chaos that is Hollywood and hello to this future that comes next.

What a difference a year makes:

I released a new book.

I fell in love with a unicorn of a man. 

I toured the country with my band.

In two weeks, my band heads to the UK, and after that we'll begin working on a new album.

When touring slows down, I finally get to return to one of the things I've missed most: my Self-Worth Intensive Workshops.

And there's one more project quietly taking shape behind the scenes that I'm unbelievably excited about. It doesn't launch until October, so I'm keeping it under wraps just a little longer - but I promise you'll be the first to know.

As I packed this week, I found myself thinking less about the boxes and more about the woman who first moved into this apartment six years ago.

She had big dreams.

She also carried a lot of fear. And a ton of self-sabotage.

She questioned herself more than she trusted herself.

She thought she had to earn love instead of realizing she already deserved it.

Looking back now, I'm grateful for all of it.

The heartbreak.

The setbacks.

The moments I thought would break me.

The versions of myself I had to outgrow.

None of it was wasted. The only reason those difficult seasons became gifts is because somewhere along the way I stopped hardening my heart.

I forgave myself.

I stopped abandoning myself.

I started choosing myself.

And something remarkable happened.

Life began to meet me where I was meeting myself.

The right people.

The right opportunities.

The right timing.

Not because life suddenly became perfect, but because I finally believed I was worthy of receiving it.

As I lock this door for the last time, I'm not just leaving an apartment. I'm leaving behind another version of myself. And I'll always be grateful to her. She got me here.

So if you're in a season where everything feels uncertain, or painful, or like life isn't moving fast enough, let this be your reminder:

Nothing is permanent.

Not the hard seasons.

Not the waiting.

Not the heartbreak.

And certainly not the version of you that's struggling today.

Keep showing up.

Keep choosing yourself.

One day you'll look back and realize the chapter you couldn't wait to leave behind was quietly becoming the foundation for everything beautiful that came next.