No More Detours

“Now is the best time to start working for the life you want.”

I’ve been circling that line for days—not because it sounded motivational, but because it held a mirror.

The truth is, I’ve spent so much of my life trying to skip steps. Emotionally. Professionally. Logistically. Wanting the outcome but resisting the reality it takes to get there. I’ve spent years holding everything—family trauma, survival, rebuilding from scratch. I skipped the chapter where life gets to be mine. Where I’m just… living. In the city. Running a business I love. Making BIG and stable money. Going to a workout. Creating with clarity. Going to Cabo for the weekend. Coming home to my career. Belonging. Being.

Here is the reality: I currently live north of LA. I spend HOURS driving—back and forth from my factory, my shoots, the people I’m building with. And recently, I found myself thinking I should move to Orange County. It would cut my drive by an hour (but still be an hour hah). It sounded nice. Clean. Calm. “Easy.” I have friends there. It looked like a life that could work. Stable. Family-friendly. Pretty.

But deep down, I started to feel like I was doing it again—trying to bypass the part where I actually live the life I say I want.

BRÛLÉ is not a hobby. It’s not a side project. It’s not something I can run from a distance or half-invest in until life feels more settled. It’s a brand that holds all the things I’ve fought for—creatively, financially, emotionally.

When BRÛLÉ went quiet, it wasn’t because I gave up. I was going through legal restrictions that physically stopped me from producing. And no, I haven’t told the full story—yet. I’ll share what that was when the time is right. When the platform is right. When the wow matches the weight of it. ;)

I was in the thick of it—restructuring, surviving, trying to find a way to keep the vision alive while I waited for a green light. That silence wasn’t apathy. It was endurance. And during that time, I created under different names. I made merch that ended up starting my show, Gone Rogue. I tried everything to keep the fire going.

And the moment I was finally free to move again, I didn’t take that lightly.

I’ve now built the clearest supply chain I’ve ever had.
I work with a local factory I trust.
I don’t manufacture overseas.
I am using organic fabrics.
I touch every piece.
I ship everything out myself.
I control the pace. The quality. The story.
That kind of alignment is rare.

And for a moment, I forgot how precious that is. I forgot that having this—this clarity, this control, this opportunity—isn’t something I can take for granted. I can’t half-do it. NOT THIS TIME. I can’t keep standing just outside the life I’m meant to be living.

I’ve made my fair share of mistakes in my 20s. Scaled too fast. Trusted the wrong people. Overspent. I’ve run at my vision with a fire so strong I nearly burned through everything around it. And now? I’m too smart for that. Too clear. Too experienced. Too protective of what I’ve built.

I don’t want to run it into the ground. I want to grow it—with grace, structure, and precision.

But I can’t do that from the outskirts. I can’t keep making things harder than they need to be. I can’t keep driving OVER 90 minutes (each way) to show up for a brand that demands my full presence.

It hit me at 11:30pm on Saturday night: I don’t need another new beginning. I need to accept where I actually am.

Not spiritually. Not metaphorically. Physically. I'm a 29-year-old woman, building a real business, in Los Angeles. And I’ve never let myself just be here.

Not halfway in Ojai, halfway out of town. Not romanticizing distance or escape or birds in the trees. Not pretending I can find peace by living off-grid when my real peace is built from creating something real and whole and aligned.

I’ve been chasing this false fantasy of what I thought would bring me ease—when all ease really requires is doing the logical thing that gets me closer to what I actually want.

And what I want… is to build.
To create.
To live in the city I work in.
To wake up and go to a workout.
To walk my dog.
To drive fifteen minutes, not ninety.
To live the life I skipped when I went straight into survival, into holding everyone else’s weight, into rebuilding everything from scratch.
To have my foundation with NO cracks.

I don’t need to escape.
I need to integrate.

So no—it’s not about loving LA. Or the fact that I’m probably about to move smack into the heart of it—into the very version of the city I’ve judged, avoided, laughed about.

It’s about making my life easier, and being exactly where I am.

And maybe, yes, that means being shoulder to shoulder at Erewhon trying to get a damn coffee. Passing the chaos, the characters, the contradictions. Living a little closer to the noise than (I think) I’d like.

But I’ve realized… this is what it takes.

Because when I do have my clothes in the Hamptons and in Miami, when I’m pulling in the kind of income that gives me options— to have the house, the yard, the kids, the dogs, the boat(S), the space—it will be because I made the right decision now.

Not the fantasy one. The strategic one. This full acceptance—this decision to go all in on what’s right in front of me— might be one of the biggest breakthroughs I’ve ever had.

It’s not about the perfect place. It’s about finally choosing myself clearly. I can feel God winking at me through it. Like: there you go. Now we can begin.

Because until I’m here, fully here, the rest won’t come.

“Now is the best time to start working for the life you want.” Not later. Not when it’s prettier. Not when it feels easier.

Now.

Here is the MOOD for Monday.

X,

KB