Finding My Place in San Diego Pt. 1 of 2

This time last year, I was days away from connecting with my new landlords in San Diego.

Right after I got home from my magical trip to Coronado, I knew I wanted to go back. I remember saying, “How great would it be if a friend of a friend had a cute house that I could rent for a bit?”

In reality, I totally didn’t have the money to afford a rental in Coronado (or anywhere) long term.

I had substantial, yet dwindling, savings. I was confident that my coaching business would continue taking off after an exciting few months in my first year of business.

I told myself that I could afford to spend a little outside of my means, to see if San Diego felt like my new home.

Coronado, specifically. I was hellbent on spending more time in Coronado. I didn’t realize it was a very conservative military base yet. We’ll get back to that later.

In late April or early May, I found a beautiful two-month rental through a Facebook group. It was way outside my already stretched budget, but I wanted to jump out of it anyway.

The owner never got back to me.

A few weeks later, I widened my search and found a cute apartment that was far more within my budget. It even had an office and outdoor space.

It wasn’t in Coronado, though. It was in Normal Heights. And nowhere near the water. And it was only available for 3 weeks.

But the renter’s name was Alexa. And she had spent ten years in New York before moving back to San Diego, her hometown. It felt meant to be. I decided that I’d start my San Diego journey there, and continue looking for a place in Coronado to move to next. Everything was coming together again.

And then my wrist started hurting. A lot.