I Left Los Angeles for the Suburbs and Bought a McMansion — It Took Me Two Years to Realize I Made a Huge Mistake

After spending 17 years in Los Angeles, I thought I was ready for a slower, quieter life in the suburbs. Spoiler: I was wrong.

Back in LA, I had mastered the city's chaos I could parallel park on a hill without flinching, find hidden coffee shops in alleyways, and nod sympathetically when someone told me they were working on a screenplay. I’d survived preschool waitlists, earthquake drills, and overpriced poke bowls. LA was wild, messy, and deeply familiar.

But in 2022, after losing too many bidding wars on modest homes in Highland Park and dealing with an increasingly unhinged neighbor, my partner and I made the leap. We packed up our three kids and moved 90 miles away to Temecula, where the homes were bigger, the skies were clearer, and the lifestyle seemed… easier.

Backyard of Palmigiano's home in Temecula with a pool and hot tub. Courtesy of Lauren Palmigiano

Trading City Noise for Cul-de-Sac Quiet

At first, suburban life felt like a dream like we'd stepped into a Reese Witherspoon movie. Our new home was a 3,000-square-foot five-bedroom stunner with a pool, fruit trees, and more storage than I knew what to do with.

It was affordable luxury. Wide streets. Clean air. Polite neighbors who waved but didn’t invite us to awkward BBQs. For a while, I was enchanted by the quiet.

Then Came the Silence

Eventually, that quiet started to echo. The silence wasn’t just peaceful it was hollow. Temecula's charm faded when I realized my favorite ramen spots closed at 9 p.m., and the most exciting local event was a wine tasting. Every restaurant felt the same, and every weekend felt longer than it should.

Friends from LA promised visits. “We’ll make it a wine weekend!” But the two-hour drive traffic, kids, and life turned that promise into wishful thinking. Only two friends ever made the trip.

And then the loneliness crept in.

Outside the front of Palmigiano's 5-bedroom house in Temecula. Courtesy of Lauren Palmigiano

I Missed My People And the Chaos

I realized I hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with anyone outside my household in over a week. My most dynamic interaction was arguing with Alexa about her music selection. I missed the weirdos, the late-night bookstore runs, and the impromptu hangs at the dog park.

LA might be expensive and stressful, but it pulses with life. There’s texture in the chaos bad traffic, random street performers, someone pitching a documentary at a dive bar. In Temecula, everything felt… too perfect. Too beige. Too predictable.

One afternoon, I looked at the matching stucco homes, drive-thru pharmacies, and spotless parking lots and thought, “This feels like living in a screensaver.” Pleasant, yes. But also kind of fake.

So I picked up the phone and told my partner:

“I think we made a mistake.”
She sighed:
“You think?”

Picture of the suburbs that Palmigiano moved to. Courtesy of Lauren Palmigiano

Coming Home to the Beautiful Chaos of LA

A few months later, we put the house up for sale and moved back to Los Angeles this time to a smaller rental in a less trendy neighborhood. No pool. No lemon tree. And definitely no walk-in closets.

But we got our people back.

We have our messy streets, our local coffee shop with terrible parking, and our oddball neighbors. Someone tried to sell me collagen powder at the dog park last week, and I didn’t even flinch. I was home.

LA still frustrates me. It's loud, crowded, and outrageously expensive. But it’s my kind of chaotic. There’s warmth in the unpredictability. There's connection in the noise. And there’s joy in bumping into someone from my old improv class while waiting in line for overpriced donuts.

Picture of the suburbs that Palmigiano moved to. Courtesy of Lauren Palmigiano

What the Suburbs Taught Me

Temecula taught me that I wasn’t looking for peace and quiet. I was looking for community, conversation, and energy things that can’t be replicated in a gated cul-de-sac.

I thought I was craving calm. But what I was really craving was connection. And for me, that lives in the noisy, unpredictable, vibrant mess that is Los Angeles.