How a Trip to California Hit the Reset Button on Life
Every trip holds a unique experience. Some are meant to bring us joy, others to relax and recharge. Some trips teach us lessons, and a few have a specific purpose. Then there are the trips that change us on a molecular level. The type where you know with utter certainty you came home a different person than when you left. These trips often leave you with more questions than answers, and longing for change.
It’s been almost fifteen months since driving up the California coast. While I’ve been excited to write about this trip, I’ve also felt protective of it because it shifted something within me, and I felt it was premature to explain why. A part of me still feels like it might be too soon to dive in, but it’s been difficult to write about any other destination when this one has weighed so heavily in my mind.
California was not planned. In fact, I was in the process of planning a multi-week Pacific Northwest (PNW) road trip when I was surprised with tickets to a special show at The Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles. Next thing I knew, the PNW was getting tabled, and a California Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) road trip became my new focus. I’d spend a weekend in LA, then drive up the coast to Monterey for several days, before driving up to San Francisco to fly out. I had spots picked out along the way to stop and fully enjoy the experience. This was a bucket list trip for me, and I was going to make the most of it.
It wasn’t very long before I realized a crucial oversight…California isn’t given nearly enough credit for how beautiful it is. There’s nothing like coming around a corner to unexpectedly see the Pacific with rolling waves for miles ahead. Quite frankly, I’m shocked I didn’t crash the first time I rounded a bend like this. It felt impossible to take my eyes off the ocean. My only regret during this entire trip was not planning for several weeks to stay in multiple spots along the coast. Experiencing Los Angeles to Monterey in one day was nowhere near enough time for the beauty of Big Sur.
California isn’t the only place in the world with a diverse coastline and spectacular views. Hawaii, the Yucatan Peninsula, and the European Rivieras all come immediately to mind. However, the singular long stretch of the Pacific coast should be given its due. The horizon makes it seem as if the ocean goes on forever, never to see land again. The sunsets bring colors so unbelievable, you’d think you were on another planet. And the diversity of the coastline, from sandy beaches to rugged cliffs, makes it so it’s anything but predictable. There are no adjectives that properly encapsulate the full experience of this slice of Mother Earth, and I have no desire to disrespect her or bore you by using an excessive amount to get my point across. You just have to believe me or experience it for yourself.
There were two key factors here that I believe led to such a soul-changing experience. First, I’ve always felt at home near the water. Maybe it’s my Cancer sun, maybe it’s something ancestral in my DNA, maybe it’s the negative ion therapy. Call it what you will, but the second my feet near a large body of water (particularly, the ocean) or my eyes settle on her, there’s a feeling of coming home. I feel a buzzing in my veins, as if every nerve in my body recognizes that I’m where I belong. My breaths become deeper. A small smile will immediately show on my face. I might cry from the sudden emotional release. And the constant stream of thoughts in my mind? They still. It’s as if the water signals to my body that we are safe, we are home, and we can finally rest.
You might argue…that’s just being on vacation. Touche. However, I was not on vacation when I went to California. I was working remotely, as I’ve done with most of my travels. And places that I have gone for “real” vacations without access to the ocean or a large body of water haven’t had the same impact. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed them. There are few places I’ve been to that I didn’t like. But that feeling of coming home, being settled in my own body, doesn’t hit often.
Second, I was often disconnected. I wasn’t expecting to have no service for a good chunk of the drive. When we’re forced to disconnect from our regular lives, it brings an unexpected pause. At first, you panic a little - especially when you’re driving a dicey road by yourself for the first time. But once you stop in a small town to download the map and memorize your route, just in case, you notice that your shoulders start to unclench. You’re singing along to The Kooks and Fleetwood Mac without thinking about deadlines and emails. You’re driving leisurely with the window cracked to breathe in the briny scent of ocean water, regardless of the tangles forming in your hair. Later, you’ll realize that this is what real presence feels like. Not worrying about the past or the future and focusing fully on the here and now.
Mix those two things together, and you’ve got yourself a recipe for some sort of revelatory experience. The additional ingredients to finish the recipe off were, this being a first-time experience, and also the fact that I was entering a transitional phase in life. I wasn’t expecting a road trip to crack open my current reality, and maybe that’s exactly why it felt like everything I knew and thought I wanted wasn’t just cracked open but fully shattered.
You know that feeling on a roller coaster when it feels like the momentum is gaining so much speed that a part of you was left behind? That’s how life had been feeling for a minute. Opportunities had been pouring in, and after losing so much work during the pandemic, I was so hungry to say yes to everything that it was borderline desperate. Many of them were experiences I’m grateful for, but others I now recognize as mistakes. I was working frighteningly fast toward a life that I had no idea I didn’t want. I’d never seen a level of success like that before, and it came with a combination of risk and recognition that was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. In the rush of everything, I was blind to the fact that I had lost myself and a vision for what I truly wanted. California put that momentum on a full stop.
I knew there was little I could do about this immediately, but I was certain I needed to make a change. Maybe several. First, I needed to get clear on what I wanted, something that has always felt impossible. Something I’m still working out. But what I did start was figuring out what I didn’t want and how I wanted to feel. That seemed less intimidating. I knew two things. The first being that I was tired of being so tired. Exhaustion had become a part of my identity - and that followed me well into the next year. There was no backup energy to draw on. I was irrefutably drained of all resources and desperate for that to change. The second, and perhaps most important, was that I was tired of chasing other people’s dreams and never my own. This was something I had already started working on with the impending launch of Lattes weeks later, but I hadn't mentally prioritized it yet. And like the exhaustion, this would carry well into the next year.
In essence, California stripped back the curtain on my own life and my own reality and showed me how wrong the path I found myself on was. I spent a lot of time sitting on the edge of the water, staring at the horizon and letting my body settle. I cried, laughed, and felt real contentment - something that I’ve rarely experienced. There was a unique kind of peace from not having any outside voices talking over my own. And when I find myself getting lost and overwhelmed, I close my eyes to hear those waves and reclaim a sense of that peace.
Maybe it’s silly to put so much weight behind a road trip, but California was a crucial turning point for me. It was the moment I decided the life we’re told to want isn’t the life I dreamed for myself. It was the moment I imagined something different, something that many people might not understand, but that I knew was ultimately better for me. I didn’t intend to leave you on a cliffhanger as I started writing this, but it would be a lie if I said I’ve figured it all out. There were many mistakes I still needed to make. Things I needed to realize that I didn’t want. Priorities that I’m still getting in check.
I haven’t found the ending to this particular journey yet, but I know it’s close. The last fifteen months have been challenging, and the next fifteen will probably be even more so. But if it leads me toward a life where I can find that contentment…that sense of peace and soul-deep connection with my true self, it will have all been worth it. And to that point, I owe California everything. I don’t know that I would have found the courage within myself to do something I was never allowed to do. It gave me the courage to choose me.
