Past the Break- Book 1- Approx 250 pages (Ebook)

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Wife, cult leader, mother of three, innovator, jokester, entrepreneur, and a mermaid at heart.

Jess Sea’s story begins like so many others; fighting her demons while simultaneously chasing her dreams.

The ocean is more than home for her; it’s her life’s blood and it runs through her veins. Forever drawn to the sea, she had a choice to make: let it consume her or dive in and make waves of her own.

Struggling with a career that was drowning her slowly, she woke up crazy and quit everything to find herself.

What she found, was way more than she bargained for.

By reading her story of strength and survival, you’ll learn that feelings aren’t facts.

  PAST THE BREAK

Written by Jess Sea

Introduction

As I stare out to sea from my ocean front balcony, I can’t help but be in awe that this home is my own.

My entire life I’d dreamt what it would be like to have my own little slice of paradise.

On my countless trips to the beach, I’d walk along the shore gazing at the expensive homes that aligned the sand. I’d watch the seagrass rustle in the wind as the breeze flowed through the palm trees. It was paradise as far as my eyes could see. Never once did it feel like a dream I’d get to experience first hand. In my mind, the closest I would ever come would be vacation . Life sometimes just doesn’t go as planned.

I went from willing myself to die, to having the time of my life. Practically over night. If only I had known earlier on that everything was eventually going to be okay. I just needed to make it, past the break.

I’m Jess Sea and this is my story.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

CHAPTER 1 - The One With The Ugly Baby

The year 1984 gave the world many lasting impressions and changes. From the release of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” to the birth of Mark Zuckerberg, 1984 was seemingly destined for innovation. It never occurred to me, being born in 1984 myself, that I could ever possibly contribute to anything innovative. In fact, it was a very real fear that I’d never amount to much of anything at all. With my head always in the clouds, my feet in the sand and never quite focusing on the task at hand, it’s a wonder I’m not already dead. Caution wasn’t exactly my middle name.

Though, perhaps it should have been.

Clumsy and careless, my mother called me Grace, even though it wasn’t my name. I answered to it just the same.

My adventurous spirit came about at a young age but my resources for adventure as a child were limited to the walls of my room and the trees I could climb.

Back to 1984 and how I thought I was destined to be a complete loser. It was the year 1984 and with a head full of black hair, I entered the world kicking and screaming during the 13th hour. Perhaps this was my first 13. Maybe the 13 is me. Forgive me, for this sounds like rambling, but it will make sense eventually. Maybe. At the age of 35, it’s still a mystery to me, but I’m trying to make it make sense. It’s more like a haunting than anything. Can one be haunted by a number? If you had asked me that ten years ago, I would have certainly said no. Today, the certainty isn’t so sure.

There I was pink, precious, and fatherless. Well, not actually fatherless but his name was left off my birth certificate none the less. While my sperm donor flirted with the nurses down the hall, my mom was bringing an ugly baby girl in the world. Seriously, I was hideous. Ugly babies exist and I was one of them. Anyhow, it was a blessing that that they split shortly after my grand entrance in to the universe. Perhaps it was even meant to happen, if you believe in that sort of thing. Destiny. Fate. Irony. All of those things.

His absence, for whatever reason, never seemed to bother me. Born independent, it never even occurred to me to mind. My childhood was just fine.

Throughout childhood, I had little interest in the real world so I mostly just kept my head in a book. Any book I could find. The adventures! The dreams! The possibilities! The lives upon lives and experience after experience, all craftily strewn together, providing hours of entertainment.

There was just something about the dream-like haze that came from going down a storybook lane and getting lost along the way. I’ve yet to be lost at sea but I have nearly drowned in a book.

Oddly enough that isn’t why I’m writing this one. So why am I? Mostly because the SeaCult asked me to but also to finish a childhood dream. In my teens all I wanted to be was a writer, but I didn’t have a story to tell. It never even occurred to me that anyone would even be interested in my story anyway. Whoever I am these days.

It’s complicated, you see. I’m somebody new but forever the same, if that makes any sense. At this point in the story, I’m rather sure it doesn’t but it will. Time always tells.

Some would even say I killed the old me but I assure you, she left on her own. It was just her time to go. Sure, she just up and disappeared but we all have limited time on this earth. Our days are numbered, don’t you know?

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