I've been feeling at odds with my life as of late. Or rather my choices in life. Maybe it's all the frustrations that have come about over ridiculous issues with this brand-new camper. Maybe it's the loss of any more fucks to give with my cell carrier dicking me around for almost three weeks. It could be the isolation of living alone AND having Covid. I'd be willing to bet that my emotions of leaving and missing out on precious time with my mother and having not been able to work out for the past six days haven't put me in any better state of mind.
I suppose I could look at all the hurdles I've recently faced as preparation for the unexpected as a full-time RVer. To a certain point, I'm willing to accept that and try to learn something from it all. Maybe even cultivate a degree of level-headed patience that I don't come by naturally. Like everything else, however, there are limits.
For the most part, I don't mind my own company. After 50 years of being me, I can't imagine not being comfortable alone. Are there things about myself that I want to change? Where do I begin? Despite the work in progress that I am, I choose to recognize and celebrate the distance I've covered, as well as the growth I've made. I don't want perfection, I want to know that every day I am doing my best to be my most genuine self - even if it's the shit part of who I am.
This road trip isn't about me proving anything to anyone. I didn't spend months weighing the pros and cons and I wasn't searching for some life-defining event. As disappointing as that might be to some, I just felt like doing something to satisfy my indecision of where to lay down roots. There was no epiphany. I considered being a digital nomad to get my need to see new places satisfied, and the how sort of morphed into RVing based on knowing I like having my things. Sort of boring and lacking in excitement, but that's really how I came to this moment.
After having my relocation to Austin, TX dulled by the pandemic and then learning my mother had Alzheimer's, I moved back to Maine. While I'm glad that I did, I'm more than ready to leave again. It's a strange crossroads to stand at - I love being so close to most of the people I hold dear yet I want to be anywhere else because it's stifling to be in a place where there are little to no social or romantic opportunities. Wanderlust has always been in my DNA. It isn't that I don't believe I'll ever find a place to sit still, I just know it isn't Maine. I stayed most of my life, but I always wanted to be somewhere else. Like home has yet to be discovered.
In two weeks, I take the dogs, hook up the problem-plagued money-pit of a camper to the truck with my few belongings and drive south. There are those in my life who are worried. Fearful that traveling alone as a woman is too risky. Concerned because I am a survivor of rape. There is little difference between solo RVing and traveling alone, or even moving across the country and living alone as far as I can see. Shit happens everywhere, at any time of day, under any circumstances. I won't let the what-ifs keep me from experiencing more. There's a healthy amount of apprehension that fosters preparedness, and I've got that covered. Precautions, safety, and contingency plans are an absolute must. Letting fear dictate my life is not.
I'm looking forward to the next year, the ups and the downs. I have no idea what I learn or how it will shape the ever-evolving person that I am today. But I can't wait to find out and maybe make a few memories along the way.
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