When the San Diego Sun Was Too Much to Handle

I was halfway through my walk back from campus when the heat hit me like a wall. It’s San Diego, so yeah, it’s usually sunny and warm, but this day was different—something in the air felt heavier, like the sun was trying to bake me alive. I shrugged it off at first, thinking, “Just a little sun, no big deal,” but the moment I took my next step, that familiar shimmer started creeping in at the edges of my vision. Classic visual aura, and this time, I swear the heat was the culprit.

The blind spots started small, like patches of my world getting erased, and then that weird zig-zag shimmer flicked into view. I froze like a deer caught in headlights, panic bubbling up because reading the street signs suddenly felt like trying to decode ancient hieroglyphics. I felt my heart speed up, a cocktail of frustration and fear swirling inside me—why now? It was just supposed to be a quick walk home, not some migraine-triggering death march.

I found a shady bench near a little fountain, thankful for the cool splash of water in the air. Breathing deeply, I reminded myself that I’ve been here before. I took slow, deliberate breaths, focusing on grounding myself like a goalie blocking the biggest shot of the game. I sipped water from my bottle, even though it barely helped with the heatwave pounding in my skull. I texted Ryan, who rolled his eyes but promised to order some dinner. At least knowing someone else was out there made it a little less lonely.

As the aura settled into a dull headache, I thought about how much I tend to ignore the warning signs my body throws at me. The sun today was a smaller, quieter trigger, but my brain didn’t care—it flipped the switch anyway. I’m learning that reading those signals early isn’t about giving in or being weak; it’s about respect. Respecting that my brain has limits, even when I don’t want it to. It’s a slow process, like leveling up in a game where the rules keep changing.

So, I’m sitting here later, feeling wiped but kind of proud. Proud that I didn’t push through blind spots and panic. Proud that I’m figuring out this weird dance with migraine and sun and heat. And honestly, a little hopeful. Because each time I learn to listen, I get a bit better at managing the chaos inside my head.

Anyway, that’s my sun story. Next time, I’m definitely packing a hat—and maybe a portable fan. Or maybe I’ll just find a way to study in the library’s Arctic tundra instead.

Lesson

Sometimes the smallest triggers, like a hot day, can sneak up on me, and learning to listen early makes the difference between chaos and calm.

Community Question

Do you have any go-to tricks for dealing with heat-triggered migraine moments when you can’t just retreat indoors right away?