Hey Sweets,

In 8th grade, I had my life all figured out. By 24, I would be married with twins, have my law degree, live in a mansion, and spend my days blissfully with the love of my life. Me and my friends planned everything down to the tiniest details. My journals were filled with wedding playlists, color schemes, and baby names.

Let’s all take a moment to laugh at that together.

LMFAO.

Needless to say, life didn’t follow that script. By 24, there were no mansions, no degree, and no husband. Instead, I was a single mom of one, packing up my life and moving from my hometown to a small town in Indiana. I had sold the dream to myself and everyone around me: I’d go to school, finish my degree, publish a book, save up, and move back to Port St. Lucie to buy my dream home. It all sounded so promising.

But here’s the part I didn’t understand at the time: a new zip code doesn’t erase old wounds. I thought the move would wipe the slate clean without me having to do the heavy lifting. Healing wasn’t even on my radar—I was completely unaware of how much my childhood trauma and unresolved pain would dictate what came next.

What I didn’t realize was that this move wasn’t just a fresh start. It was the beginning of a grieving process.

Moving wasn’t just about leaving behind a place; it was about letting go of who I thought I’d be and the life I imagined for myself. Grief doesn’t always come with loss in the traditional sense. Sometimes, it’s the loss of expectations, the dreams you once had, or the familiar comforts of the life you knew, even if that life wasn’t serving you.

I was grieving my hometown, my relationships, and the person I thought I was supposed to be. At the time, I didn’t recognize it as grief. I just knew I felt lost, overwhelmed, and disappointed. Instead of being a clean slate, the move became a magnifying glass, bringing all the unresolved pain I’d been carrying into sharper focus.

Two and a half years after the move, I hit rock bottom. Seven months pregnant, in an abusive relationship, I reached my breaking point. That’s when I realized that running from my problems wasn’t the answer. A new house, city, or dream wouldn’t fix what was broken inside of me. There was healing to be done, and it had to start with me.

Sweets, Remember This

Sometimes, life gives us an urge to run. It’s easy to believe that a new place, job, or relationship will make everything better. But the truth is, no external change can fix internal wounds. Healing starts when you confront your pain, take accountability, and begin the work to rebuild yourself from the inside out.

Moving, like any big life change, can come with unexpected grief. It’s okay to grieve what you’ve left behind—the dreams, the relationships, and the old versions of yourself. Grief is a process, and so is healing.

Real transformation begins when you work on yourself with compassion and honesty. Whether it’s healing from trauma, practicing self-love, breaking co-dependency, or overcoming old habits, the change starts within. When you do the work, the “big moves” in your life will reflect the growth you’ve achieved.

As within, so without.

So take the time to heal, and when you make your big move, it will be everything you dream it could be—and more.

Thanks for reading,
Tru