The second “sign” that finally brought me home
If you haven’t read parts 1 and 2 of this blog, you’re not going to want to miss those!
I wake up the day after Christmas feeling invigorated - like a new woman.
Something has shifted inside of me…
I can feel it.
I am not the same person I was just a week before.
I feel this peace, this confidence, this alignment.
Like I took the red pill.
I feel awake.
I have the house to myself for a couple of days, so I have some time to figure out my next move.
I start to think back to my LA trip where I passed over that freeway intersection and got the flood of chills and electricity.
Was that the area I was supposed to end up in?
Studio City?
My brain immediately starts talking me out of it.
LA is too expensive.
There’s too much traffic.
The taxes will kill you…
I stop right there. I interrupt my monkey mind -
Hold on there turbo, thanks for your opinion, but remember, we have Spirit now
“God, I know I’ve been asking a lot lately, and I feel like I know the answer, but… LA… really? Is that where I’m supposed to go?”
“Yes”
“Well, that was quick.”
“That’s how I roll…”
“Ok, how about another sign? I mean, this is a BIG move. I could really use the validation. How about this… If I’m supposed to move back to LA, I want somebody I haven’t spoken to in years, from LA, to contact me…just to say hi”.
I really hadn’t spoken to anybody from LA in years - except for my best friend that I went to visit - so the likelihood of somebody contacting me was pretty slim at this point.
Within 24 hours not one, not two, but THREE different people I hadn’t spoken to in over 5 years reached out just to say hi… one reached out on FB messenger, the other two via text.
“Ok, now you’re just showing off!” I said.
But I must admit, I was starting to enjoy this.
The truth is, I had been so stuck in my masculine “get er’done” energy the past couple of years growing my business that I had lost touch with my “magic” (my feminine).
And I had actually set an intention to get back in touch with my intuition (and my guides) several months prior, little did I know how quickly that would happen.
“Ok God” I said… “you win, I’ll move to LA… I hope you know what you’re doing!”
So I cracked open my laptop and started to search for places.
I booked several appointments in Sherman Oaks, and a couple in North Hollywood.
Then I recalled where that surge hit me...
Studio City… That could be cool.
A place popped up on Zillow that was absolutely gorgeous, but it was more than I had ever paid in rent before, and I immediately thought..
“It’s too nice…
I don’t need that much space
…that place is for a real adult”.
So I didn’t book an appointment for that one.
I got up early the next day and drove straight to Los Angeles with a fire in my belly.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I’m moving back to LA.
The resistance had melted away and now I felt excited at the idea of being around creative people again, near good food, and sushi.
God, how I missed good sushi.
I arrived that evening and grabbed a hotel in Woodland Hills. (Typically I’d stay with my best friend, but she was out for the evening.)
When I walked into my room, I dropped my bags, sat on the bed, and immediately started sobbing.
Ahh, the good ol’ “delayed trauma response”.
This was so me.
All of a sudden it hit me like a TON of bricks that this was really happening.
The relationship was over. And I was moving…again.
Amidst my tears, I started to pray “God, I don’t know what I’m doing. Please help me. Please help me stop crying.. What do I do now? …”
“Keep crying” I heard.
So I did.
Not only did I cry, I ugly cried.
I’m talking - lemon-contorted face, snot dripping from my nose, drooling all over my super cute, brand new cashmere sweater - ugly cried.
The reality was sinking in that I was losing someone that I really, really loved.
As I said in the previous blog, my partner was an amazing man.
I knew he loved me very much - in his own way.
He cooked dinner every night…
He was kind…
He was loving…
My mind wandered back to the final fight.
Why is this so important to you?!
The frustration was evident, we both weren’t budging.
Why do you need me to listen to you talk about work?! Why can’t you get friends for that?! Men aren’t good listeners, it’s not our fault! It’s just how we’re wired!
I remembered another incident where he had said something similar, but in a joking way…
“You know how it is, men are from Mars, women are from Venus… The truth is men aren’t good listeners and women talk too much!”
I wasn’t amused.
Was I just supposed to tuck my art away in a closet (or throw it in the trash) and become some sort of Stepford Wife?!
Hell to the NO.
I rode the wave of emotions as I went from mourning the loss of the relationship, to feeling empowered, to feeling proud that I had finally protected and nurtured my inner child…
And then suddenly, the crying stopped.
And I felt amazing.
Who knew surrender could be so rewarding?
The next day I woke up and got ready for my facetime session with my Psychic Healer Jessica.
I hadn’t mentioned anything to her about the break up or the move when I texted her, just that I needed a session.
We hopped on the phone and within minutes she practically nailed everything that was going on.
This was so Jessica.
“I’m seeing a lot of green around you, which is new beginnings, transitions, big changes…”
“You’re expanding in your career, not just doing music, but helping others from a more psychological perspective… Does that make sense?”
“Of course it makes sense”
(You magical, witchy, freakin unicorn you) I thought to myself.
“So listen up Kris, my Spirit Dude (best name ever for a spirit guide) says you’re supposed to end up in Studio City, I don’t know what that means or why he’s saying that, do you? ”
My jaw dropped.
I mean, I knew she was good, but this was ON THE NOSE, and there was no way she could have known that.
A chill crawled up my right arm, and nipped me in the back of my neck.
I smile and nod, puddles forming in my eyes.
I have some homework for you,” she said.
“Sure,” I said…
Now, WAIT till you hear the homework she gave me…
“I want you to write your own obituary.”
“Ok……”
(I mean…. really?!)
“A part of you has died,” she explained, “and you’re entering into a rebirth, and you should honor (and thank) the old you for getting you this far. Then I want you to burn it” she says.
“Ok,” I agreed. “I’ll do it”, I say determinedly, nodding and wiping my face dry with a tissue.
We end our session, I pack my things, and head off to begin my apartment search.
I start the day off energized and optimistic, but my excitement dwindles with each and every apartment that fails to match up to its drool-worthy pictures.
(If you think dating sites are full of catfish, try checking out apartment listings. Nobody is better at making pictures look wayyyyy sexier than they actually are than realtors and apartment managers.🙄)
At this point, I feel exhausted.
After back to back no-go’s, I finally head to Studio City and start driving around, even though I didn’t have any appointments scheduled.
Suddenly, I get that feeling again - electricity.
I remember the townhouse I saw.
The one I felt unworthy of.
The one I talked myself out of.
I immediately contacted the realtor and got an appointment to see it within a couple of hours.
I arrived early, and she was running late due to the pouring rain, so I decided to write the obituary while waiting in my car.
I start to cry as I thank the old me for how far she’s gotten me, and acknowledge her for how far she’s come, scribbling furiously as the rain splats against my window, and end it with “I got it from here…”
Shit, I don’t have a lighter, and it’s raining… how am I gonna set this on fire?
The realtor texts, “I’m here!”
I close the journal and plan to burn it later.
The second she opens the door to the place it was like angels starting singing.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
It has a fireplace. Plenty of space. Hardwood floors. Updated appliances. A huge bathtub.
There’s even a loft in the master bedroom that goes up to a private rooftop deck.
I feel the imposter syndrome start to creep in…
Who am I to have this nice, spacious place all to myself?
This isn’t too good for me, this is perfect for me.
I belong here
You got this Bradley.
Be cool.
There’s even a perfect little “nook” for my studio (which somebody else might call a dining room, but they’re wrong, it’s a studio).
The building is quiet, yet close enough to walk to a bunch of shops and restaurants - the perfect combination of peace and hustle.
So, what do you think?
It’s nice! I’ll be in touch in a couple of days.
While I feel this is the place in my veins, I start to talk myself out of it.
Part of me feels like I don’t deserve this.
I can imagine my spirit team just facepalming in the sidelines as I nearly let this gem slip away.
“It’s too much, I don’t need this…I’ll find something else..”
As I get ready for bed that evening I say my evening mantra / prayer.
When I woke up, I knew the place was mine.
I texted the realtor and asked her to email me an application.
I’m approved instantly, and as I’m filling out the lease paperwork I realize something.
When I was in my 20’s, I remember saying…
“One day, I’ll be successful enough to live south of the boulevard in Studio City”...
I even remembered always wanting a loft.
I had to smile knowing I manifested this exact place, and that every twist and turn up until now had led me to the exact place I was supposed to be.
I drove back to Arizona the next day and began to plan my move.
As I was packing, suddenly I remembered the obituary.
I decided to burn it right then and there in the garage. I watched the flames swallow the paper in seconds and knew this was a parting ritual I’d never forget.
This really was the death of the old me.
The death of the “dim switch”.
A week later I packed up a moving truck and moved back to Los Angeles.
I was going to complete this story here, but it feels unfinished because there’s one more thing I would love to share, which is a tour of the new place.
Is that something you’d be interested in? :)
