It's hard to be depressed when you live here

Ten miles away from my current apartment, and five miles away from the houses we’re looking at, this is what I get to see.

I took that last weekend. We had gone to the temple and seen my old friend Mark, driven home and changed, and it was only 5. Bear’s been having wicked stressful weeks lately, and we wanted to pack as much fun and adventure into his day off as was humanly possible, so we raced the setting sun to see how much time we could get strolling along the beach. It took us five minutes to get there, we parked at the little free parking lot up the street, walked out on the sand to take a few pictures and a few deep breaths of salty air, and then just turned around and headed home because that was enough.

Other than the couple of years we lived in Costa Mesa, we’ve never been closer to the beach than 1 1/2 hours. That’s always suited me pretty fine. Whenever presented with the option between ocean or mountains, I’ll choose the mountains. When we plan vacations we have to take turns because Jared always wants a relaxing beach vacation, and I always want to go somewhere where I’ll learn something. I don’t surf, I don’t swim, and I burn like the red head I am. I can never go without sunscreen and a big floppy hat or I’ll be crying for a week.

For some reason, the beach is starting to seep into me now. In the past two weeks, I’ve been down there five times. When prior to this I could probably count my beach experiences on my fingers. I think that knowing we’ll own a house here, and that this will finally become home, makes me think differently about it. When you have to drive a couple hours to get to a beach, it had better be worth it. You’d better get wet and covered in sand, you’d better swim and get some sun, and get your money’s worth out of the day to make it worth the trouble of travel. And I don’t want to get wet or get some sun and I’d like to keep the sand down to a minumum, so it’s never been worth it for me. I never understood what the fuss was about.

Now, all I have to do to make it worth the trouble is take a few deep breaths, admire the view, and listen to the waves. That was worth the drive. Everything else is gravy.

So I get it now.

In these past few weeks, as my emotions and mental health have been all over the map, I find myself sneaking away to the beach more and more. Sometimes for a whole day, sometimes for just a couple of minutes, but I go to get away from myself and my pity party. To see something much bigger than myself and all my problems, to just rest and relax and appreciate.