As you can probably imagine, I get a lot of questions regarding my lifestyle choices. And I have been thinking (for a while) of the best way to answer all of them. For the most part, I plan to do just that- over time. Starting with the most recent question and probably the most important- why? Recently someone came across my story through a mutual friend and made it clear that my lifestyle gives her anxiety. In her exact words, “Why would you want to do this?!” So I’m here to explain my why.

For anyone who thinks I have found all of life’s answers, have (finally) got it all together, or set out on this journey with a detailed, step by step plan, I’m here to bust your bubble. I haven’t, I don’t, and I didn’t. I took a huge leap of faith when I decided to bail on my Ferris wheel life back in Georgia. There were some things I knew for certain, and others I walked blindly towards.

I knew I wanted my son to grow up with a larger expanse of experiences than I did. I knew I wanted to oversee his learning and development. I knew I wanted to spend more time with him than I did working. I knew my anxiety and depression had taken a deep dive and were causing me more trouble than ever before. I knew I had a dream of living an alternative lifestyle. I knew I wanted to show others that there are more ways to live than the 9 to 5 lives we are primed to walk into without question. I also knew that I was capable of living my dream if only I took the first step and gained that forward momentum.

Back in April, I took a six-week medical leave from work. My anxiety and depression had become so intense that I was having trouble getting out of bed, struggling to be social and interactive with the people I love and care about, my career was stifling, and I felt I was failing. But I wasn’t failing, and reflecting back on it now, I know this. I was working diligently at building a career I had accidentally walked into almost 10 years earlier, I was doing my damndest to raise a smart, kind-hearted boy, and I was living my life with my mind wide open and my heart on my sleeve. But the leech that is mental illness was still holding me back.

At the beginning of my leave from work, my doctor and I talked about my goals for my time off. My main focus was healing and working on some practices and treatment that would ensure I would return to the world of 9 to 5 stronger and more capable of managing the constant influx of heavy thoughts and emotions I was experiencing. During this time away, I worked really hard to get to the root of my illness and make amends. As the weeks crept on and my time to return approached, I realized that the lifestyle I was living was not conducive to my wants, needs, or values. This may not have been the single source, but I have quickly come to realize that living a life that doesn’t align with your values will cause anyone mental illness- no matter who you are. Holding strong beliefs in having complete control over my own happiness, I rapidly decided I had to make some changes.

So what are my values and goals that make living in a 60 square foot van enticing?

Minimalism: Living in a van (or any tiny space) requires you to live minimally and be very intentional with the items that you own. This means no useless ‘things’ just to fill empty voids on my walls or shelves. This means no overspending or online shopping late at night when I’m bored. This means giving less meaning to my things and more meaning to my experiences and relationships.

Connections: Throwing my home on some wheels also meant being mobile and forging new connections throughout the country. I thrive off of meeting and learning about people from all corners of the world, so why not start with all corners of the country? I believe meaningful connections are crucial to our livelihood and happiness. I also believe that they can be scarce. I never want to question the connections I made in my life or the opportunities I gave Keller to make his own.

Time: I wanted my life to be more driven by purpose and intention and less by stress and anxiety. Living with less allows me to realize how valuable my time is and how much more attentively I can spend it. I now enjoy the simple act of handwashing the dishes, cooking a meal, or just making coffee. I do each of these things with more mindfulness than ever before.

Growth: I have always tried my hardest to live with an open mind. No matter how unbiased I believe I may be living, I know that there is always more to experience that will open my eyes just a bit wider. This has proven true. I am learning and growing every single day, and the more I immerse myself in, the more growth I find on the other side.

Gratitude: There are so many studies out there that show the positive correlation between practicing gratitude and our health and happiness. In our journeys, we are able to see how other people live, experience life without a lot of the things we have grown accustomed to having, and realize the things we need versus the things we think we need. This allows us to feel gratitude all the way to our core. When you are in the desert and getting water from a well every time you want to take a shower, wash some dishes, or just make a pot of coffee, you gain a much better understanding of why you should turn the water off when you brush your teeth (among many other ways you should conserve water, but that’s another topic for another day). You also feel an overwhelming gratitude for that well and for the people who help you get water from that well. When you are more intentional, you intrinsically become more grateful.

In the company I previously worked for, I was taught to believe that my work aligned with my values. I attempted to convince myself of this time and time again, but it never quite added up. I truly believe that the work I was doing does align with some peoples’ values and that those people are doing great things in their careers. But once I was able to reject the idea that I was working for something I truly had a passion and purpose for, I knew my exit would follow soon after.

Though living small and traveling has been a longtime dream, I honestly never gave it a second thought. My life was wrapped up in being a single parent, managing a chronic illness (T1D), owning a car and a house, working 40 plus hour weeks, and providing for my little family. Following through with something so contrasting to the life I had created seemed a far off fantasy. I never thought myself actually capable. Until the day I decided I was capable. Until I reassured myself that any dream is within arms reach if you only take the leap. And so, I did.

The journey back east has been an emotional roller coaster for me. As I inched closer and closer to Tennessee, I could feel a heaviness growing in my chest. I spent three days driving and crying through Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas before pulling into the driveway of the house that, until recently, I called home.

When I started my trek back I knew it was going to feel a little funky, but I never could have imagined the intensity of the funk. Dynamics had definitely changed since I left. My house was no longer my home, my friends were surely doing their own things and having a great time without me, my old job had been filled by someone new. It was a little hard not to feel replaced, even though this was the life I had chosen. I couldn’t help but experience a looming sadness as I left behind all of the extraordinary people I had met and fallen in love with out west. The long and lonely drive home only fueled my emotional state. Anxiety crept back in as I returned to a familiar place feeling a little unfamiliar with myself.

As all of these thoughts and feelings swirled around in my inventive imagination, I remembered something I had recently been practicing- sitting with my emotions, stresses, and anxieties rather than reacting to them. And how incredible it has been to be able to apply such a powerful practice to my daily life. So I made use of my long drive across the country and did just that. Being on the road so often truly allows me and my thoughts to get to know one another on a level I hadn’t before experienced.

Toward the last leg of my drive, I had a little chit chat with my tears. I finally understood. This was my first endeavor back into a world I’d basically just peaced out of without a second thought. When I left, I didn’t just bail on corporate life and a conventional home. I also buried my anxiety and depression somewhere deep in the Appalachian foothills. Going east didn’t exactly feel like going home at first. It felt more like intentionally driving back into a thick fog I had only recently managed to escape. I began to realize I was having apprehensions of a nice, long vacation approaching its conclusion. Did I have to unpack, settle in and return to a fluorescent lit office on Monday? No. “This isn’t vacation. This is your life,” I repeated over and over to myself.

So when you see me and ask me, “How was your trip?” I’ll proudly remind you that this isn’t a means to an end. Nothing is ending. This is still only the beginning.