#Vanlife — Solution to Life’s Problems, Distraction, or Waystation?
You may have seen the beautiful photos on Facebook or Instagram of a vintage VW Vanagon parked in some pristine location, most likely on a cliff, with the sun setting or rising behind it. Not another soul around in this natural paradise that can be yours for the price of a van and getting rid of 90% of your stuff. Work from anywhere! Live your best life! Well, I’m going to tell you a secret.
#Vanlife is a carefully curated fantasy.
You probably knew that already, but it needs saying. However, that doesn’t mean that vandwelling isn’t possible or even an enjoyable lifestyle. I should know. I am coming to you live (not really) from a public library where I’m working on my laptop with my mobile internet modem and smartphone.
How did I get into this?
I had worked for almost twelve years at a job that I was good at, but something was missing. I sacrificed a lot of time and life energy into it, but the rest of my life was lacking. I earned a comfortable salary for one person, certainly enough to buy a house, but I didn’t.
Small spaces had intrigued me for a long time and I spent years dreaming about living in a tiny home or traveling the country in an RV. I’m in my 30s now and wanted an adventure to shake things up.
I was achieving the American Dream, but I wasn’t happy.
So what was I going to do about it?
#Vanlife as a Solution to Life’s Problems
It’s easy to think that a change of scenery will solve our dissatisfaction with our lives. The excitement of a new place makes us feel more awake, more alive. However, then the same dissatisfaction returns.
I knew I wanted to get out of the city I was living in. I’d been there for over a decade, and there are so many other things to see and experience. However, I didn’t just want to pick another town or city at random. A nomadic life was the solution because it would allow me to travel to many new places. Perhaps one will speak to me, and I will decide to stay.
Living in a van also did require me to get rid of most of my things, and I am still working on it. I stumbled on the Story of Stuff and it really spoke to me.
I had so much stuff. And it was not making me happy.
Getting rid of my stuff doesn’t require living in a van, but it was a useful incentive. If I got rid of all the things weighing me down, I’d be light enough to achieve this goal.
A nomadic lifestyle was a goal for me. It was the opposite of everything I had come to dislike about my current life. Stale sameness would be replaced by exciting experiences and new sights. I would be happier because I would be moving away from all the things making me unhappy.
#Vanlife as a distraction
However, I had forgotten one very important thing. I was there.
During the pre-journey period of converting my van, the excitement built. I thought about where I would go and how amazing it would be. I thought about those scenic vistas and myself at a picnic table working diligently on my laptop for a few hours before heading off on a hike.
The finished van wasn’t perfect, but it had a bed, and it held all my stuff.
I was on my way.
The first night in a truck stop parking lot was not exactly idyllic, but I was still caught up in the newness of it. “This is fine,” I thought. “It’s just for tonight.”
It was damn cold, is what it was. I’d gotten on the road just after Thanksgiving. The high was 40 during the day, 30 at night. The next night in a truck stop parking lot was much the same. I had a campsite that I was heading for (where it would be warm), and this was just the fastest way to get there.
Then I got lost. Well, not technically lost, but it felt that way. I’d made the cardinal mistake of setting out for the final campsite too late in the afternoon to arrive before dark. My directions were not good and so I ended up after dark driving down a road through the national forest and wondering where on earth I was going.
I was scared.
Trees on both sides right up to the road. Not a soul in sight. It felt like something out of a Criminal Minds episode. I had no idea where my campsite was supposed to be. My phone was dead and I had no service anyway.
Suddenly #vanlife didn’t seem so exciting.
Suddenly I was confronted with the realization that I had been avoiding.
Everywhere I go, I am there.
And I am anxious, insecure, and unused to being totally alone. So here I am on this deserted road when these qualities made themselves known in a big way. What was I thinking to have driven out here so late? Why didn’t I have the map ready? Why didn’t I write down directions in case of equipment failure?
I started having a panic attack.
However, I am also practical and a problem-solver. So I made a simple plan of action. I drove back the way I came, all the way to the last truck stop. I remembered the way, so I wouldn’t need my phone or the map I couldn’t seem to find. I could camp there again tonight, charge my devices, and come up with a new plan the next day.
I was losing my head even as I was keeping it enough to solve my problem.
I realized that I needed to prioritize working on myself if this adventure was going to work. Vandwelling, nomadic living — these weren’t the solutions to my problems. I had to be the solution to my problems. This lifestyle could still bring me adventure and opportunity, but it couldn’t fix the things about me that were making me unhappy.
This life had distracted me with newness and excitement from the important thing I needed to deal with. Me.
#Vanlife as a Waystation
The reality is that this life is simply the next step on the journey of my life. We often have a tendency to treat each new stage as if it has to be permanent. Sometimes the next step is just the next step. It will last however long it lasts before we take another.
Am I going to live in my Chevy Express cargo van for the rest of my life? Probably not. I may, but the odds aren’t necessarily in my favor. That’s okay though. It’s what’s right for me right now.
I am relearning self-reliance. I got lost and scared, but I dealt with it all on my own. I’m pursuing online and freelance employment. I put together my solar system, so now I have power. I made this adventure possible and pursued this dream across years of dreaming and doubts, both my own and others.
I am relearning self-confidence. I have to decide my own way out here. Where will I go next? My perception of my Self is changing to accommodate someone who is following their dream and taking a chance on something different. I’m achieving something I thought would never happen.
I am relearning how to be comfortable being alone with myself. I may have neighbors in the campground, but at the end of the day, it’s just me. It’s been several years since I lived totally alone. That is an adjustment that I wasn’t prepared for, but it’s a necessary one. I don’t want to rely on others to distract me from myself.
These are all valuable things that this journey is making possible. Could I have done this back in my old city in a regular apartment? Probably, but sometimes a change of scenery helps solidify a break from an old way of thinking.
#Vanlife versus vandwelling
#Vanlife is a social media fantasy. It’s views and gadgets and a carefully curated life that is usually showing the best side of this path. I use it myself.
Vandwelling is sometimes that inspirational. Sometimes it’s camping in a nice recreational area with a single bathroom when the weekend campers descend and keep everyone up at night. Sometimes it’s sleeping in a truck stop parking lot for the night and hoping that nobody was watching me too closely. Sometimes it’s pulling into a friend’s driveway and getting to visit with someone you haven’t seen in months because they live so far from where you used to live.
I’m a vandweller and still adjusting to the sense of dislocation. I don’t live anywhere in particular and society is telling me that I should, but for now, I’m along for the ride.
