I flew 8,500 kilometres to follow my heart.

Not to chase anything, just to listen to that quiet inner pull that told me I needed to be here. I knew there was a risk. I knew the outcome might not be what I hoped for, and it wasn’t.

What I thought would happen didn’t happen.

But what did happen has changed my life.

Last year was one of the hardest years I’ve ever lived through. I’ve become very good at wearing a mask, hiding the sadness in my eyes, disguising the cracks in my confidence, especially in places where I once felt strong. I show up smiling, even when parts of me are still healing.

This trip stripped that mask away.

The first day here was filled with joy. The second day, it all disappeared. Everything I thought this journey was about was taken from me in an instant and instead of sitting in it, instead of becoming bitter, playing the victim, or feeling sorry for myself, I made a decision.

I chose kindness.

I chose to go out into the world and give what I still had left. Not because I expected anything back, but because being kind makes me feel whole. And if kindness returns, that’s beautiful, but it doesn’t need to.

So I complimented elderly women.

I bought an old man a mango tea.

I spoke to strangers.

I made friends.

I shared socials with photographers.

I laughed with people I’d never met before.

I had conversations with potential love matches that reminded me I’m still open, still hopeful.

And suddenly, this week became a week of discovery.

A week that felt… meant to be.

I’ve always felt drawn to America. No matter where I’ve lived, I’ve rarely felt truly at home, but every time I’m here, especially this time, there’s a deep, unexplainable sense of belonging. Not the kind you get when you’re on holiday and fantasise about a new life, but a quiet knowing. A feeling in my bones that says, this place matters.

I don’t know how that fits into my life yet, especially with a young child and a father who loves him deeply, but I trust that clarity will come when it’s meant to.

One thing that surprised me about LA is how obsessed the world thinks it is with perfection. Beautiful people, perfect faces, flawless bodies. You wonder how you could ever fit in.

And yet… everywhere I went this week, I was met with kindness and unexpected affirmation.

I went on a date with a truly lovely man, someone I’d known only as an Instagram connection for years. He drove an hour and a half just to spend the day with me, showed me the Hollywood sign, took me to dinner in Beverly Hills, and gave me his time and presence. There was no romantic compatibility, but he had one of the most beautiful souls I’ve encountered.

At one point he looked at me and said, “You’re the most American British woman I’ve ever met.”

As we walked around Beverley Hills, he told me to look, and he told me I stood out, He told me people noticed me, everyones heads turned…

And they did.

Women complimented my outfit.

Strangers asked if I worked in TV.

People asked if I modelled.

They told me my hair was fabulous, that I looked pretty, that I carried myself beautifully…

As a 42-year-old woman, that kind of attention can feel uncomfortable, even embarrassing. But this time, I let it in. I needed it. Not for my ego, but for my spirit. For the parts of me that had forgotten their worth.

This trip reminded me of something important:

There are two types of people in this world.

Those who say they are kind, and then hurt others without hesitation.

And those who show kindness through action, consistency, and integrity.

This week showed me exactly which one I am.

I don’t just call myself a Christian — I live it. I believe in the words from Matthew: “Treat others as you would like to be treated.” Being a Christian isn’t about what you say on Sundays; it’s about how you show up when it’s hard. When you’re hurting. When it would be easier to close your heart.

And I won’t close mine.

No matter how much pain I experience, I will never stop being kind.

I will never stop showing up.

I will never stop loving.

This journey, this unexpected, imperfect, emotional trip, has reminded me that everything truly does happen for a reason. I was pulled here for a reason, even if I don’t fully understand it yet.

The Signs I Couldn’t Ignore

As this week comes to an end, I’ve realised it wasn’t just the experiences that changed me, it was the signs, Quiet ones, Gentle ones, The kind you don’t notice unless you’re finally still enough to listen.

Yesterday I sat alone on the beach, the ocean stretched out in front of me, my heart heavy from the emotional rollercoaster of the week. I had a tear in my eye when someone came and sat a few metres away, music blaring from their speaker…. and then it played , Red Red Wine by UB40. You never hear that song anymore, But there it was and I won’t explain why it matters to me only that it does. Deeply. In that moment, looking out across a California beach with that song playing, I knew. I knew why I was here.

Every time sadness crept in this week, I walked, and every time I walked, I was reminded of something familiar, something grounding. One day, while quietly sharing my sadness, Dexys Midnight Runners came on, my life anthem. The song that has carried me through more than anyone knows. Hearing it felt like a nudge: Back in the room, Kerry. You’re okay.

And then there was the word Joe.

Everywhere I looked, it appeared. Cafes, Fridge magnets, Sign, Small ordinary places, to me, it wasn’t ordinary. It reminded me of my son, It reminded me of my Grandad. It gave me strength when I needed it most. Too many times to be coincidence, this week.

There is a reason I’m here. I don’t know what it is yet, and I wish I had the answers now. I trust that one day I will. Whether the reason is joyful or painful, big or subtle, it matters, America has always felt like this to me, I never feel home anywhere, but here.. yes my God, I feel home. There is a pull here, the strongest pull I’ve ever felt.

And no, it has nothing to do with the original reason I came. That chapter ended, not by my choice, but by having my vulnerability met with unkindness, by being left in shock when all I needed was compassion. But instead of letting that define this journey, I chose goodness.

I rode the buses, trams, bikes even though everyone told me not to use public transport, I am no snob and I wanted to feel part of something, To see everything, To experience the city as it really is. I ended up on the weirdest, most wonderful bus journeys through LA’s rougher parts, and then somehow found myself walking through Rodeo Drive, feeling like I’d stepped into a Pretty Woman dream.

And that’s when it hit me.

Life really is special.

Even in pain.

Even in disappointment.

Even when plans fall apart.

Especially then.

This week reminded me that meaning doesn’t always arrive the way we expect, but it always arrives when we’re open enough to receive it, and for that, I am endlessly grateful, and as I conclude this, just finishing a call with my son and his father, I’ve just been told, my ex would move here in a flash, and has offices all over here.. maybe the dream isn’t too far away…

I can’t wait to bring Joe back … Is this home? Let’s see…