I’ve always been drawn to the ocean. I grew up on cruise ships, and as a young woman, the ocean was signal that I was on vacation. I grew up in Kansas and, shockingly, there weren’t a lot of beaches there.
In 2010, I told a friend “in 5 years I’ll be living in San Diego, and will have an office with the view of the water.”
Now, my office is in my house, and it took 6 years to get to San Diego, not 5, but I’m here. And this city feels more like home than anywhere I’ve ever lived in this lifetime.
This morning, after getting my first set of labs done since I was diagnosed with Diabetes in September (fingers crossed for a healthy A1C number on this go around because I’ve been kicking ass at managing this disease!), I shot over to Mission Beach to visit my homegirl, the Pacific Ocean.
No matter what ails me (currently: work stress, this chest congestion that I can’t seem to kick, and a general sense of mild overwhelm with everything in general), the beach can heal it. So can being in the middle of nowhere under a starry sky or surrounded by big ass redwoods. Nature is my happy place.
I may not be from here, but I fucking love it here. America’s Finest City has my heart.