It was New Year’s Eve 2019. I was in Chicago with my then-boyfriend, and with a pit in my stomach, I looked at him and said, “I want to break up and move to Los Angeles.”

We’d been in an on-again, off-again relationship since college. Despite moving to three different cities to try and make it work, it just wasn’t a relationship that brought out the best in either of us. 

“It made me realize there was so much more for me out there if I was willing to let go of something comfortable but misaligned.”

At the same time, I’d been visiting LA for work, staying with a dear friend in Silverlake. And I loved it. The energy, the young creative people, the possibility. It made me realize there was so much more for me out there if I was willing to let go of something comfortable but misaligned. And I kept thinking: The same was true for him. As my mom always says, what blesses one blesses all.

My bold personality may seem fearless on the outside — and I’ve bulldozed past my feelings more times than I’d care to admit — but this time, I was scared. I was afraid of being alone, of spending three times more on rent, of disappointing someone I loved.

At the time, I didn’t have the tools to process what I was feeling. I knew the breakup and the move all at once was sad, intense, a major shift… But instead of sitting with my feelings, I just kept moving forward — quickly, bullishly, and avoiding the hard conversations.

In two weeks, I signed a lease, organized my move, and flew to LA with my dog, fingers crossed that I hadn’t just blown up my life on an impulse.

The moment I got settled, the 2020 lockdown began. I sat in my new California casita, staring at the news. Far from family, single, and now, under a shelter-in-place order.

The next day, there was a knock on my door. A couple who lived next door — who had also just moved cross-country, also wondering what the heck the universe was trying telling them — wanted to be friends. We were living on the same plot of land and didn’t see anyone else. And just like that, my quarantine pod was formed.

In the face of one of the biggest collective challenges of our time, I found unexpected joy. We danced all night in the living room, played games, cooked each other dinner, went on hikes. I realized how not alone I actually was. They even set me up on dates with their friends.

“In the face of one of the biggest collective challenges of our time, I found unexpected joy.”

This year laid the foundation for my LA community. And since living here, I can say with confidence — despite everyone saying “LA is so spread out and hard to make friends in” — that I’ve never had more friends or community.

Looking back now, five years later, I can see what I couldn’t see then: That fear wasn’t trying to stop me. It was trying to protect me. And understanding the difference changed everything.

Is your fear telling you it’s not right? Or that you need to face it?

The hardest part about knowing it’s time for a change isn’t the fear itself — it’s figuring out whether the fear is telling you something’s wrong, or whether you’re just scared because it matters.

Here’s what I’ve learned: Fear and intuition can coexist. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you’re wrong.

“Fear and intuition can coexist. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

So how do you tell the difference?

Your body knows before your mind does. I had a pit in my stomach on New Year’s Eve — not because I was making a mistake, but because I was finally telling the truth. When something is comfortable but misaligned, you feel it.

And here’s the other sign: You keep thinking about the alternative. LA kept calling me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. When you’re in the right place, you’re not constantly wondering what else is out there.

If staying feels harder than leaving, that’s your answer.

Remember, fear is trying to protect you… but we’re not running from a tiger anymore

When I think about what I was afraid of that New Year’s Eve, it’s clear now what my fear was protecting: safety, familiarity, not hurting someone I loved. Those are all reasonable things.

But here’s what fear was costing me: staying small, staying misaligned, not trusting myself.

Fear is a survival mechanism. It’s designed to keep us safe from real threats — like tigers. But our nervous systems can’t always tell the difference between a life-threatening danger and an uncomfortable conversation. So when we’re facing a big change, our body responds the same way it would if we were being chased: fight, flight, or freeze.

“Our nervous systems can’t always tell the difference between a life-threatening danger and an uncomfortable conversation.”

I chose flight — literally. I ran from my feelings instead of processing them. I was so afraid of the sadness and grief of ending the relationship that I just bulldozed forward. I avoided the discomfort by moving quickly, by staying busy, by telling myself I was being “strong.”

But here’s the thing about unprocessed emotions: they don’t disappear. They wait.

It took me years to understand this fully. I eventually learned that real growth doesn’t come from constantly trying to fix yourself — it comes from actually being with yourself. From sitting with uncomfortable feelings instead of solving them.

Here’s what I wish I’d known in 2019: You can acknowledge fear without letting it make the decision. The question isn’t: “Am I scared?” The question is: “What would I do if I trusted myself?”

How to move through fear to make a change

Name the fear and feel it.

This is the part I skipped back then. Don’t just identify what you’re afraid of intellectually — actually take time to feel it. Take 15 minutes and let the fear be there. Talk to it. Sit with it. Maybe cry it out. Let it move through you. On the other side of even the most uncomfortable feelings is peace — and only from that place can you make a calm decision.

Separate legitimate concerns from fear stories.

Some of my fears were legitimate: I only knew five people in LA. Rent was three times more. Those are real, and you can plan for them. But the fear stories — “I’ll be alone forever,” “I’m making a huge mistake” — those aren’t facts.

Address the legitimate concerns with action. Let go of the stories.

Communicate openly — even when it’s hard.

I knew I wanted to break up four months before I said it. I started plotting my move, looking at rentals, running the idea by friends. The only person I didn’t inform was the only person I needed to. I think I was afraid that if I named my fear or talked about the decision too much, it would dissuade me from doing it. I was ready to take action, and some part of me knew that voicing it might make me second-guess it.

“I was afraid that if I named my fear or talked about the decision too much, it would dissuade me from doing it.”

I was a very avoidant people pleaser at the time. Confrontation made me feel like dying (dramatic, I know — I’m much better now).

When he dropped me at the airport, it was really sad. But I didn’t know what to say. After I moved to LA, we didn’t speak for two years. I reeled with guilt. How could I have done this to him? Did I ruin his life?

Until one night, I had a dream about him and realized I needed to reach out. I texted: “Hey, I had a dream about you last night. It made me realize I needed to reach out and apologize.” He responded instantly: “Wow. I had a dream about you, too.” Spooky and cosmic. We jumped on the phone and had a two-hour healing conversation.

I wish I had communicated more clearly sooner. The people you love deserve to know what’s going on — even when it’s uncomfortable. Silence doesn’t protect them. It just delays the inevitable.

Move quickly once you know.

I signed a lease in two weeks. There’s wisdom in that. When you know, the longer you wait, the more you second-guess. Trust the clarity when it comes.

Let the outcome be unknown.

I couldn’t have predicted the lockdowns. I couldn’t have predicted my neighbors. I couldn’t have known that LA would become home. Your job isn’t to know how it will work out. Your job is to trust that it will.

The blessings that come when you honor yourself

You don’t need to have it all figured out before you move. I didn’t know anyone in LA. I didn’t know how I’d afford rent. I didn’t know if I’d make friends. But I moved anyway, and the pieces fell into place.

Because here’s the thing: you never know why you’re moved to make a change. Sometimes it has less to do with the house you move into, and more to do with who you move in next to. My neighbors knocked on my door the day after I arrived. When you’re where you’re supposed to be, the right people show up.

The things you’re afraid of losing weren’t yours to keep. That relationship wasn’t serving either of us. Holding on to it out of fear wasn’t love — it was just fear. And here’s the hardest truth: If something is misaligned for you, it’s misaligned for them too. You’re not abandoning anyone by choosing yourself. You’re freeing both of you.

“You can’t mess this up. I believe there are multiple, wonderful destinies waiting for you to align with them.”

You can’t mess this up. I believe there are multiple, wonderful destinies waiting for you to align with them. When you feel it’s time to shift your frequency by making a big change, honor it. It’s going to be better than you can fathom.

If you know it’s time for a change but you’re scared — name the fear. Feel it. Communicate openly. Trust yourself enough to move.

And then ask yourself: What would I do if I knew I’d be okay?

And then do that.

Grace Abbott is a LA-based freelance Brand & Marketing Strategist and a Contributing Editor at The Good Trade. She has a degree in Graphic Design from Parsons School of Design and is the founder of How To Go Freelance — a brand dedicated to empowering creatives to monetize their skills and build personal brands. Beyond work, she’s always studying a new spiritual modality, painting her bedroom a new color, practicing Pilates, hosting friends, or going on a nature walk with her chihuahua, Donnie. Find her on Substack or Instagram.