I know the statement above is pretty much a no brainer to a lot of you out there, but it isn’t so easy for me to see it that way a lot of the time. I get stuck in the hustle of our, not really chosen but adapted to, RV living, ever hovering around the poverty line or below it. It’s a bit much and can completely consume one if they let it, which I can admit I completely do. I never ever saw this as my life, or anything like it, remotely. It’s definitely been an experience, with so much incredible learning along the way, about life, about myself the most I think, and about perspective. I’m not the same woman who moved into that ’68 Winnebago almost 10 years ago, completely broken, grasping at hope, barely, stepping into the darkness with no idea what comes next. And quite crazy about it. No. Really. Crazy. Trust me.
January 20, 2019, we will have been doing the RV dance for 10 years. 10 years! That one is pretty heavy for me. It makes me catch my breath, close my eyes, think everything and nothing all at once. There is part of me that wants to put a judgement on it, on 10 years of RV living, but how could I place judgement on what has been my life for this long? I see this life from the inside of it. I can also see it from the outside. I think I spend too much time seeing it from the outside and judging it. This is a life so far removed from anything I could have ever imagined even existed before it became my life. I have spent a lot of time feeling broken, abandoned, unloved, lost, confused, unequipped, alone. I have put down a lot of things, beliefs, that I had once believed were a part of who I was, maybe who a part of me still is. Maybe not. I have been in survival mode and being who I had been was not seeming to be a benefit to moving forward.
I’m not saying all of the changes in me have been bad ones. I have learned so many wonderful, amazing things about myself, and about growing up. The relationship that continues to grow, sometimes bumpy, more and more smoothly over time, with my husband. He is such a gift. He is also my biggest bane sometimes but I think the is part of the long-term living with another human, especially in as small of quarters as we do. Plus, we are two thinking, opinionated, smart individuals. There is bound to be perspective differences. We are learning to not try to convert the other to our way of thinking but allowing them to describe it so each understands the others point of view. At least, that’s the goal. The bumps are smaller, the smooth more easy to maintain and return to. I think that is called growing together, or something like that.
So, I’ve been…extremely depressed lately. (No. I’m ok. Working it through.) I’m in a weird spot, an uncomfortable spot and I’m at a loss. No. I’m refusing to decide what to do and move forward. I’m allowing myself to sit in fear of doing anything because, so far, I feel like a failure in all that I have ever tried to be successful at. I can no longer do the things I have done to stay alive – construction, house cleaning, landscaping, etc. – because I have beaten this body up and it is fighting back now. The things I know how to do, that I gravitate toward when looking for work, only to remember, “oh right. i can’t do that anymore.” I terrified to try anything new. The idea of not knowing what I am doing in front of other people makes me panic. The thought of getting something wrong in front of other people is … I don’t know how to get past this but I’m trying to figure it out. I apparently don’t have that issue with writing on here. I think it still feels so private, I guess. Or, I’ve been coming here to vent for a few years now. Kind of like going to a good friend.
Anyway, I am sitting here in the RV, alone. Lance and the dogs are off walking, a really good long walk – something they all have been needing to go do, just them. I didn’t want to go because I was feeling like I had the need to be alone. Alone alone. No dogs, no husband, just me. He walks them every morning and I usually sleep through it or get about an hour of me and coffee time, which is great, but this time feels different. Anyway, I was putting things away, cleaning up a bit, which is an ongoing thing in an RV, if you were wondering. You’re never really done for very long. You get used to it. I picked up the new body wash I had gotten, reading the label as I headed toward my shower bag. I don’t know why but it made me smile. It’s just a lavender and honey body wash, smells great, works great. But I felt overwhelmed with…satisfaction?…in the moment. Then the toothpaste caused the same feeling. Natural toothpaste. Looking at the fuzzy blanket we bought at Costco that is soooo soft and large enough for each of us to be blanket hogs. I became overwhelmed with gratitude for my life, all of it, the good, the bad, the devastating, the long lasting…mistaken beliefs, the stories I have told myself and believed. For a moment, I had absolutely no judgement of my life except joy.
It’s a great moment and I know that life is still life. Things are going to be what they will be. But, today, I am having a really awesome glass full – no halves here please – day. How’s your day going?