I Lived In a Van for One Year; This Is What I Learned
In October of 2020, in the middle of the Covid 19 pandemic, I sold most of my possessions, said goodbye to my landlord, my job, my city, and I hit the road in a decked-out ’95 Chevy Astro.
She had only basic fixings: a solar panel and a Jackery battery to power my devices, a makeshift bed created from a table and a filing cabinet, a few small drawers for clothes and things, a portable toilet, and about a week supply of Soylent (in case I should get stranded somewhere).
I bought a flute and wore moccasins. That sounds pretty silly, but as a shapeshifting pisces woman, I tend to embody a vibe inside and out before I even know what’s happening. This was a journey of the spirit: I needed to find my true self in a quest of solitude, and the desert was whispering to me.
Without any real plan in mind, save for visiting my friends in Las Cruces, I embarked on my first real solo trip into the world. Looking back on my journey, I realized how much I really learned and grew, even though at the time I felt like a hot mess wandering alone in the universe. Here are just a few of the valuable lessons I brought home with me.
1. You don’t need much to be happy.
One thing that I immediately noticed when I got rid of my earthly attachments is a deep sense of freedom and possibility. It’s amazing how we become attached to objects, places, people and comforts, and then use those attachments to justify why we shouldn’t make any changes in our life. But when I uncluttered my space, the mind followed. I started noticing things again. I started getting moved by sunsets again. Before, I was too overstimulated to care about anything. Making such a big change is scary, and letting go is scary. But boy is it ever freeing. I recommend it to everyone.
2. Your body can handle a lot.
Some nights, I slept in desert night temperatures as low as 27°F. With my trusty camping sleeping bag, I cuddled up and was able to sleep pretty well. The body is capable of adapting to quite extreme circumstances, and it makes you more rugged in the end. Over time, less and less phases you and you feel strong and hearty. I highly recommend looking up the Iceman, Wim Hof, to learn more about the incredible mechanisms of the body when faced with extreme cold, and how it’s actually good for your immune system.
3. People will always want to help.
I can remember a handful of times when I needed rescuing in the desert. Twice I got stuck in some patches of inconspicuous sand, and each time the locals rushed in like a tidal wave to lift me out, smiling, chatting, and departing without any expectation. Kindness is everywhere, and people want to help. So if you’re ever in a sticky situation, call out to your brothers and sisters; they will come.
4. Discomfort is healthy, and the worst will always pass.
With regards to the cold nights (it is usually coldest at 3–4am), I learned to wait things out without panicking. In our very comfortable culture of instant gratification, we tend to rush to remedy any feelings of discomfort we have. Hunger, desire, lust, what have you; we have become very afraid of not having our needs met immediately. But, as with strong emotion, the worst always passes if you just wait a little longer. And you will be just fine.
5. Your real friends will wait for you.
I’ve had it happen a few times: where someone becomes attached to me, and when I must depart for another experience, they are hurt and end the friendship. It’s the cost of being a free spirit, but it also taught me that my true friends are always my friends, no matter where or who I am. Those friends have remained. So if you’re worried about feeling alone or abandoned, don’t worry: the ones who care will never leave you in spirit. Go forth!
6. Everything is a balance.
Maybe the biggest lesson I learned is that while it’s important to go out alone and be selfish, you will miss your loved ones eventually. It’s just as important to belong as it is to be a free individual. I learned this the hard way, crying alone on a beach in San Diego, wishing I could see a familiar face smiling back at me. But I now know, in a deep way, the value of love, of being truly seen and cared for, and doing the same for others.
7. Our earth is just so…dang…beautiful.
I can’t really put it into words. So I won’t.
PS: I still live in this van, and wouldn’t change it for the world.
