The decisions made over the past month have led me to feel like yes, here it is. I’m finally about to live life the way I’ve always wanted to: with a full heart and reckless abandon.
To be honest, I’m really happy for me.
But things that make you happy – like, over-the-moon jump-up-and-down happy, can still be hard. That is the chapter I’m entering. That is the chapter we are talking about today.
Matthew and I have been discussing for some time where life will take us next. For the past six months we tossed ideas back and forth, hmmmmed and hawed, and really took some time to think about what we really want.
We have everything I think most humans would be happy with: a nice big home, great work and income, a backyard we never use, and two dogs we adore. But while society keeps telling us to reach higher, to get more, buy a house, acquire things to furnish it, to keep buying things to keep us content… we felt a strong pull in the other direction. To downsize. To have less. To own little. To find quiet.
That’s why when Matthew asked if I wanted to move into a tiny home, I was totally on board.
When that idea morphed into converting a bus and living in a skoolie, I was easily convinced.
When we thought about the logistics of that and settled onto converting a van to a micro-livingspace, I got really into the idea.
But when Matthew suggested we converted his truck bed into an actual sleeping bed to travel in it indefinitely – I’ll admit, it took me a moment to digest. Not being one to ever pass up the chance at adventure, I came to fall in love with the idea.
So that’s what we’re going to do. Hell yes.
Of course, there is plenty of planning and logistical tasks behind it all – but we’re at the point where we’re committed. We’re getting rid of everything.
No really, there’s just a big empty space where my dining room table used to be.
We’ve given notice at our residence. We’ve given notice to family. I mean really, we’re giving notice everywhere.
This is the hard part for me. This is why May 2018, to me, feels like cutting ties.
Because I am.
Before I go on I need you to understand that I am easily attached to things. Inanimate, seemingly unimportant things. But they’re important to me. Throwing away a photo is like throwing away a memory. Giving away an article of clothing is to part with the memories of it. Selling my favorite dresser is like leaving an old friend.
Maybe you will be able to relate to that, maybe you won’t. But that’s just me. That’s where this gets hard for me.
In this way I admire my partner – he jumps at pretty much anything with a child-like fearlessness. He’s not emotionally attached to old ticket stubs. I know – I could learn from him to embrace change in a much less complicated way.
But I’m not there yet. And that’s my journey.
Well, you know what they say. Goodbyes are so bittersweet. And I haven’t even gotten to the really big ones yet.
I know this is going to be hard. I know I’m going to cry (total cryer over here). I know there are going to be some difficult parts along the way… and that’s just the preparation I’m talking about here.
I’m only beginning to appreciate what a transformative experience this will be. I’m going to learn. I’m going to grow. I’m going to do something risky and unconventional and I’m going to embrace every minute of it.
That being said, we aren’t the first people to sell everything we own and abandon the life we know for an adventure and whatever comes after. But you know what I’ve realized? This is the part that always gets missed. The part before.
The part that’s not us barreling down a tree-lined highway with the sun shining down on us. The freedom, the adventure, the dream come true. That’s the fun part.
This is the before all that part. This is the part where we have to peel everything away.
That’s why I think it’s important to share it. The next couple of months are going to be an up-close, very glamorized version of what it’s like to give it all up so we can go live more.
Let the fun, tears, and utter craziness begin!