The Lack of Pressure is Refreshing

 It’s been a whirlwind couple of weeks. Between driving to and from SC, flying to Toronto and back, and starting my trek to TX, I’ve seen and done a lot in a short amount of time, with virtually NO break between. 

By no means am I complaining, as I’ve had a great time. Even with the insane weather delays on my flight into Toronto, I’ve met so many people I wouldn’t have otherwise. The short-lived moments spent with strangers can sometimes be all I need to maintain a positive outlook on the world around me. 

 

The older I get, the less inclined I’ve felt to branch out and interact with people, particularly people I have no relationship with. Living in a travel trailer and towing my home behind me wherever I go has brought me out of that comfortable bubble and introduced me to a world I had only heard about. 

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m still happy to spend most of my time alone, but I don’t waste opportunities to chat away an hour or more with people who are traveling via RV. Hearing about other people’s adventures and mishaps brings another level of investment for my own that I would never have guessed possible. 

In some strange way, these interactions are helping keep my inner cynic at bay and helping me realize that there are more people I can relate to than not. It’s great to have conversations with people I know I will never see again and that don’t want or expect anything from me. I feel like it makes the ability to have a genuine experience together far more possible. 

As much as I’ve lamented about the negative side of my journey thus far, I will say the people I’ve met have helped keep the flame of interest in continuing the adventure I set out on burning. That’s worth far more than nearly anything I can imagine - and it’s absolutely one of the main reasons I wanted to spend a year living in an RV to begin with. 

If you’re like me and new to this adventure, or you’re just considering making the leap into a trip of your own, I think it’s a beneficial idea to consider the impact of crossing paths with people having similar experiences and how it can add to your own. Sure, there is the independence of being able to go where you want on your own time schedule, there’s the experience of living far more simply than you might currently, and the excitement of the unknown, but meeting and talking to others who are in various states of expertise in this lifestyle can be, in my opinion, invaluable. 

I left NC this morning, landed in Knoxville, TN this afternoon and spent the better part of the past 3 hours having interesting and insightful conversations with a number of other RVers - retirees on extended vacations to full-timers to weekend enthusiasts - and I feel as though I’ve discovered a new tier in human interaction that I didn’t know existed. There’s a connection that isn’t overwhelming or weighty, but enjoyable and spontaneous that’s attractive. While I might not be interested in adding friendships to the ones I’ve nurtured over the years, these moments in time are incredibly wonderful to have. Like icing on the cake of human interaction. And I get to determine just how much or how little I want to indulge in. 

Every Bad Day Brings About a Good One

Always be open for those little wins that might just remind you why you are walking the path you chose. I found myself lamenting about spending the past two months without experiencing any kind of positive encounter or event. Tonight, a fellow camper struck up a conversation, helped me sort out a leaky water connection (I was missing a rubber washer), and we chatted for well over an hour about campers, work, his time in the Marines, and of course, our dogs. 

It doesn’t sound like much, but that conversation fanned the flame of my hopes for this trip. While I didn’t have many expectations about traveling like this, I did hope to meet people and hear bits of their stories. Watching Nomadland, I knew that basic human connection with people choosing to live life on the road was something I wanted to experience, if nothing else. 

Being a blip in the life of someone I’ve never met before, and they in mine - there’s just something completely raw and honest about it. There are no pretenses, nothing motivating the conversations other than relating to someone else traveling around and having human experiences. Sharing tips and knowledge gained through experience, and allowing yourself to brave the unknown is surprisingly empowering. 

I’ve never been one to ask for help easily, but since I ventured out on my own, I haven't hesitated. I’m not afraid or embarrassed to admit I’m a novice or that I don’t know how to do something. And the thing is, everyone I’ve met so far has been beyond willing to lend a hand. It's refreshing to be okay with learning and needing the input and assistance of others. It keeps me grounded and in touch with humility, which allows me to grow and evolve. And I'm all for that!

What To Do, Indeed

 It isn’t as though I don’t think I can live on the road and hack this RV life. I kind of like the challenge of towing my home with me and the routine of setting up and tearing down. I enjoy proving things to myself, particularly when it’s reaffirming my strength and character as a person. And so far, I've done well, even in the face of numerous hurdles.

The thing is, despite all the planning and forethought, I find the trip has been an uphill experience. Like all uphill. I haven’t had the freedom or ability to explore or enjoy a new place. There’s always something I have to face head-on and tackle - the truck repairs, the issues with the camper, discovering I’m in a dead zone for cell reception for a week and can’t even use navigation to find service (though it was empowering to rediscover that I can totally still function using road signs and basic directional indicators). The frustration has been mounting, despite all my best efforts to find that fucking silver lining every time I feel myself spiraling down the negativity drain.

Three months into full-time RV living and two months on the road away from Maine, I’m having consistent moments of wondering if this trip is at all what I should be doing - more than I care to admit. I get that life lessons and change usually brings about discomfort and upheaval, but it’s becoming more discouraging than it is empowering. I deliberately set no real expectations around this trip, but I’m still mainly feeling disappointed. The challenges take up more and more of my ‘free’ time (otherwise known as after work and not driving time) so I can’t venture out to see these places I’m visiting. It's like constant goal-setting without the little wins along the way.

Quitting isn’t in my wheelhouse. So much so that I often go well passed the point when I should have cut my losses and accepted the path I was on wasn’t in line with who I was becoming. I stick with things until the bitter end or until I succeed, and even when there are signs I won’t enjoy the feeling of success or accomplishment at the end of the road, I stay the course. I wouldn’t say it’s fear of missing out; more like a deep desire to never be plagued with wondering if I’d just stuck in there or with it for a little longer would things have turned the corner? it's flawed thinking. I know this, but I don't know how to step out of the cycle of it without negative self-talk. 

In addition to the logistical nightmare of this trip, there are other considerations around my mother, my kids, and my work life that complicate my ability to process and make changes. My next stop is Texas and I'm going to spend some time re-evaluating the pros and cons of continuing this journey, and those of ending it. 

We Are All Evolving, Even in the Smallest of Ways

At no other point in my life have I felt the weight and discomfort of how quickly and oddly time is passing than this past year. It's likely that part of that is due to the pandemic and how greatly it impacted our lives. How could that not alter the way we see the world and interact with our daily lives? But beyond the past 2+ years, I've always known that things would appear to speed up as I grew older, I was just unprepared for it to be in such a disjointed and uncomfortable manner. There are times when I don't know want to admit I'm not in a great place. It's then that much of what I experience feels 'off' in some way and I am at a loss as to understand why. Not having that insight has made it beyond challenging to remedy the emotions I am experiencing around even the most benign events. But even when I'm at the top of my game, things still don't feel like they used to. Of course, that's kind of how life goes. 

Sometimes, I find that my expectations and recollections about experiences I've had in the past haven't quite evolved to sync with who I am today. I believe this contributes to those feelings of disconnectedness and disappointment. I’m not sure what I am expecting to feel when I do something new or something I’ve anticipated for some time. When I think back to my younger years, am I remembering accurately, or is my recollection tainted by romanticized perception? I could swear that when I was younger I experienced far more intense joy, excitement, and elation than anything I have felt in the last two decades. 

Not having the same surge of excitement today in similar situations, the knee-jerk reaction is to think that I've lost something. As though I am incapable of achieving that level of satisfaction or enjoyment any longer. The crazy thing is that just isn't true. Preconceived ideas of what an experience should yield in pleasure or enjoyment just increase the odds of being disappointed. Part of the intensity of youthful joy and surprise is there is rarely a basis for comparison. So much was new and exciting that it essentially guaranteed us top-tier reactions.  I can't experience the same feelings now because there is too much familiarity and expectation of a specific effect than true, intense outcomes need to be pure and impactful. I'm also a different person now, and what moved me then doesn't necessarily move me the same today. Perspective is essential. It shouldn't remain fixed, rather it should be fluid. 

Being able to change and grow means there is a pattern of learning and redefinition. I'm not the same person I was even two years ago. Life has presented obstacles, challenges, and opportunities that have reshaped my views and my emotions. How can I possibly expect that even with all those changes, how I see things and what I find value in could ever stay the same? When we change, we have to embrace that our whole selves will change. I've realized that if I want to get more joy and happiness out of any experience these days, I need to discard expectations and allow something new or different to pique my excitement. I may have done something a number of times before, but that doesn't mean there isn't something new to gain from doing it again. I wore corrective lenses and glasses most of my life, but it wouldn't have made sense if I had continued to wear those prescription contact lenses after having corrective eye surgery. So why should I be surprised that my perspective and connection to events and people would need to change as I do?  Isn't evolution the point, after all?

Ambitious? Maybe, but Totally Doable.

 On the road goals:

• Find scenic, fun places to work out
• Meet new people and listen to a little of their story
• Write
• Write more
• Establish a daily writing cadence
• Take time to be in the moment
• Breathe
• Be more open-minded and adventurous
• Relish solitude
• Capture the trip in words
• Read
• Hike
• Read more
• Save money
• Create memories
• Visit friends, old and new
• Practice patience
• Welcome opportunity

There are a number of things I would love to accomplish while on the road. In life, really. This is just a smattering. I've never been one to sit idle.