A thank you to my Subscribers.

Navigating turbulent waters to find the lighthouse. In gratitude to all the people that welcome my ship back to safe mooring.

In six days' time it will be one year since I left my corporate job. It was a great career in the healthcare field and I had a top tier supervisor and team members. Many people in my department were good, genuine people and I learned so much from collaborating with them. To anyone looking from the outside in, it was a perfect job. Security, positive management, and financial stability. Despite the plethora of positives, something continued to tug forcefully at my heart.

I tried everything to ignore this tugging, using my head and logic to repeatedly convince myself to stay and that my longings were unrealistic and fueled by overwork. Each month I carried on in the hopes that it was a feeling that would soon subside.  The tugging in my heart became physically and mentally painful and I was being thrown this way and that. 

All of the back and forth reminded me of a fishing trip I went on once. I was on the Pacific Dawn, a tuna fishing boat in the middle of August. The boat, late at night was at the mercy of the turbulent sea. Being in this job was like being on this fishing vessel -- nauseous, scary, and unknowing if the dreadful feeling of repeatedly crashing from wave to wave would end. The boat was being thrown this way and that and I felt that at any point it would crumble. The memory of being out at open sea in turbulent storm waters was how I felt at my job. It sounds dramatic yes, but I never said I wasn't!

I noticed that most of my energy was going into this job because I believed that if it did, the tugging would subside. But the further into this job I went, the harder it was to steer my ship.

Eventually all parts of me had had enough. I thought I was being violently pulled into a new direction, but realized that all along the tugging was a lifeline. Long story short, I relented to the pull and put my two weeks in.

Since then I have traversed the United States in our van and have followed the lifeline that was pulling me for so long. I haven’t always been able to see where I'm going in a lot of the unknowns of this lifestyle, but I continued to go with this pull. Like following the North Star. What I did come to learn was this pull was coming from safe mooring in the form or writing. As I have come to realize the source of this tug, I could navigate turbulent seas better, with more steadiness and in optimism.

When I write to you, my vessel becomes neutral, sea sickness in my mind and body subsides, and I can read the wind to direct my sails. Writing for you is the lighthouse on the horizon, restoring hope through any weather change. All of you who read my tales are the people who live among the lighthouse, guiding me home and supporting each and every debark and return.

With each and every word that flows from my fingers to keyboard, it feels so special to share with you all that comes to me on the high seas of life. I am better at sailing my ship because I know my lighthouse is there. I know my people are there. 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you in keeping the light lit, being at my shoreline, and supporting me as I explore unconventional territories and uncharted waters of who I am and where I'm going.

The above photo was taken on The Pacific Dawn, August 2016 or 2017.

The above photo taken on the 1863 Star of India.