The Long Way Home

Six years, a dozen cities, a few breakdowns, and one dream that never left me. I finally came home—to LA, to BRÛLÉ, to myself.

Last night was my first night in my new West Hollywood apartment. I felt something unfamiliar: a quiet, gentle peace settling into my body. As I lay there among half-unpacked boxes, I noticed my arms felt light, my stomach was unknotted, my back and shoulders released, and even the usual buzzing in my head had gone still. It was the first time in years that I could remember my body relaxing completely, without that undercurrent of anxiety or the urge to flee. In that stillness, I finally felt at home—both in Los Angeles and in myself.

I posted a reel this morning of my new digs and the view. My friend left a comment “Burkes Beverly Hills era is back.” It made me laugh because, honestly, it feels like that. I commented back, “Yeah, before COVID and The Untethered Soul ruined my flow,” half-joking but deeply true. Because right before COVID hit, I was on fire. I was living in Beverly Hills, making the most money I ever had, waking up at 6am, working out, and building a legendary name for myself. I was locked in.

Then the world stopped (COVID). And I read The Untethered Soul. That book cracked something open in me. I realized I wasn’t the voice in my head. And from that moment on, I followed my soul. I went deep—into healing, into understanding my childhood, my trauma, my sorrow. I was searching for peace, and that search led to one of the wildest five-year stretches of my life.

I put everything in storage and left. First Hawaii, then Wyoming, Colorado, Austin, Miami, Sedona. I was chasing peace and clarity, trying to find somewhere I could land. Eventually, I came back to LA and moved myself to the top of a hill in Malibu, thinking maybe solitude was the answer. I wanted to start BRÛLÉ. I needed stillness. I thought: I STILL need to be away from it all.

I launched BRÛLÉ up there. I was meditating every day, doing Joe Dispenza. And it worked—kind of. The brand was beautiful. But I was alone. Too alone. So I moved to Westlake Village. A suburb outside of LA. A bigger house. But guess what? I was still alone. Still driving two to four hours a day to be in the city for BRÛLÉ. I was making it work, but it wasn’t working.

At the same time, my family was going through a divorce. A close friend I was mixing business and pleasure with went through a breakup that felt like a divorce. And I was silently battling chronic depression and anxiety so deep that now, looking back, I don’t even know how I survived it. When it all came to a head, I moved to Austin. I thought maybe I could start over again.

But in Austin, I didn’t start over—I healed. For real. Not the fluffy kind of healing. The kind where you actually sit with it. Look at it. Process it. I finally got to the root of my depression. I got help. Towards the end of my months there I found internal structure. I came back to myself…knew I needed to face what I ran from and I wanted to be back in California. That’s always been home.

I had some legal and financial things to clear. So I tucked away in Ojai. And that was probably the most healing place I’ve ever been. My mom and I even healed our relationship there. She lived with me this past winter. We both softened. And as soon as I cleared everything—legally, emotionally, energetically—I knew it was time to be closer to the city.

I was still driving hours to the factory. For the last few months I have been driving six hours a day…four times a week. I oversee everything. I ship everything. I have no team. And one day, I thought I was going to move to Orange County. But I had this massive wave come over me. I knew that would be the same pattern I’ve always run—chasing solitude, chasing peace outside of myself.

So I broke the pattern.

I found a place in the middle of West Hollywood. And the story of how I got it is one for another day. But I moved in. Yesturday. And when I slept here for the first time, I felt my body unravel in places I’ve never felt before—in my arms, my stomach, my back, my head. A deep, cellular peace. And yet, I’m smack in the middle of the city.

I look out my window and see downtown Los Angeles—where BRÛLÉ is made. I feel so locked in. So alive. So grounded. I’m here. I’m living here. I’m building this. And I’m doing all of this—this move, this collection launch—with no sleep, all heart, and the most clarity I’ve ever had.

The BRÛLÉ collection is live. This drop is avail until Tuesday. And somehow, even amidst the chaos, I’ve never felt more in flow. This isn’t just a new address. This is a return. A reclamation. A beginning.

Fam, we made it home.

X,

KB

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