I left my job and boyfriend for an opportunity in Los Angeles. Within 4 months, I moved back home.

• I always wanted to live in the US, so at 30, I left my London-based job for an opportunity in LA.
• My new life in Los Angeles didn’t live up to my hopes, and I ended up leaving within months.
• Years later, I’m happily living in New York — and I can see that my LA experience taught me a lot.

Growing up in London, I always dreamed of living in America.

After visiting New York City for the first time as a 19-year-old, I started daydreaming about moving across the pond and working as a writer in Manhattan. I’d be the British version of Carrie Bradshaw, if you will — minus the designer wardrobe and bad taste in men.

My boyfriend at the time told me I had my “head in the clouds,” so I convinced myself the dream was unrealistic. (Perhaps I did have questionable taste in men?)

At 25, I landed a dream role in London, where I worked my way up to an editor position within two years. My career was going well, but America was always in the back of my mind — and, so, I eventually started firing off my résumé to a few US publications in the hope that I might get a response.

I was nine months into a new relationship when I was approached about a senior reporter role in Los Angeles. This time, I refused to choose a man over my dream, and so — days after my 30th birthday — I left my family, friends, and very supportive boyfriend to move over 5,000 miles away.

After 16 weeks in LA, I called it quits and returned to Europe

Not only did I take a pay cut when I moved to sunny California, but a slight title drop, too.

As much as I liked LA, my new role wasn’t a great fit for me. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t love this job as much as my last one, but taking the opportunity wasn’t about my career. This was about getting the chance to live in the US.

I only lasted seven weeks on the job, and lived in LA for a total of 16 weeks. It wasn’t easy to find other work due to my visa, and I missed my (now long-distance) boyfriend like crazy.

By the end of my stint there, I was spending most of my time sitting alone on Malibu beaches, feeling lonely and trying not to spend money.

After admitting defeat, I returned to London, feeling ashamed of how things had turned out. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d failed.

Being back in London wasn’t easy, but I eventually got another chance to live in the US

Just 10 days after my return, my boyfriend left to start a new job in Italy. Our relationship ended three months later, and I spiraled into a deep depression. I felt empty and lost.

Now, I was working as a reporter again, but after everything I’d just been through, I didn’t have the same ambition I once did. I wasn’t even sure if I belonged in London, but I stayed — and when the COVID-19 pandemic shut everything down, I felt grateful to be close to my family.

As life returned to “normal,” I started spending short stints working remotely in Spain, Italy, and Portugal. It was during one of these trips that I was approached about a job in New York City.

After a couple of calls, I accepted the offer and signed the contract while still in Spain. There was zero hesitation: New York had always been my dream.

I was now 35, single, and without kids or pets. It’s now or never, I told myself.

My short-lived LA adventure taught me a very important lesson

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Looking back now, I can admit that I didn’t put much effort into making a life for myself in LA. I didn’t attempt to make friends or build a social life; I didn’t even try that hard to find another job.

I admitted defeat pretty early on, and that’s OK. Although LA didn’t work out, I know that — had I not moved to California — I may never have had the confidence to eventually accept the job on the East Coast.

Those 16 weeks in LA proved to me that I could step outside my comfort zone and handle living on my own. Most importantly, I learned about my own resilience.

When I accepted the job in Manhattan, I knew that if the role didn’t work out or New York didn’t live up to my expectations, the worst-case scenario would just look like packing my things up and moving back home — and this wouldn’t make me a failure.

Now, nearly three years later, I’m happy to say I’ve made amazing friends in New York, I’ve built a great social life, and my second attempt at living in the US has been the complete opposite of the first.

Perhaps I was just in the wrong state, or LA was a trial run. Maybe, things simply unfold when they’re meant to.

One thing is certain, though: Hollywood and that heartbreak changed my life, and really made me the person I am today. I’m less fearful and more willing to try new things, and now, I know that I can live anywhere in the world and make the most of it.