As I travel full time, I carry the standard tools to deal with the physical world: hammer, mallet, socket set, impact driver, bits, spring clamps, bungee cords, rope, etc.
But I have another set of tools that might be called “soft tools,” and they are the ones I use to keep myself spiritually, mentally, and emotionally healthy.
Whenever someone asks in one of my RV groups about the biggest fear in going full time, most people talk about backing up the rig, or dealing with wind, or finding campsites.
My fear before I set off was that I would become emotionally sick. I feared curling up into myself and becoming isolated and squirrely. I feared fear. I feared becoming disoriented. I feared that lost feeling that nobody knows or cares where I am. I feared depression.
To combat those very real states of being, I use all the tools in my arsenal. Here are some of the unwanted states of being that I can sink into, and the tools I use to dig myself out:
Problem: Loneliness
Tools: Dog, support group meetings, calling friends and family, tight RV parking, nature, getting out of camp, blogging
My biggest tool in combatting loneliness is traveling with my dog. I rarely feel lonely with my girl by my side. A dog certainly limits my flexibility in a major way as to where I can go and what I can do. But I cannot even imagine not having a dog with me. I also have the benefit of support group meetings that I can attend, either in person, on video conferencing, or on the phone. The last option is my least favorite. If I am to combat loneliness, I like to see some faces. Also, calling friends and family for a long talk is tonic for my soul. The biggest challenge is to recognize that I am feeling lonely, and then reaching out. Another strategy is to camp in an RV park with tight sites, where RVs are crammed in. That gives you more people to talk with and interact with. However, when I am camping in a nature setting, I often do not feel lonely because the earth and wildlife keep me company. In addition, I try to get out of the campground or RV park at least once a day and go to a store or a park or somewhere else. Staying put in a campground day after day makes me unwell. Finally, writing this blog helps me feel less lonely. Getting comments and FB “likes” means more than you can imagine.
Problem: Resentments
Tools: Resentment inventory, talking it over
In my earlier life, I was the queen of resentments. I would take offense to something someone said or didn’t say, the way they looked at me or didn’t look at me, what they did or didn’t do. I thought that by hating and resenting them, I was hurting them. But I was only hurting myself, and using up energy I couldn’t afford to lose. The first step in using my favorite tool for resentments is to recognize that I have a resentment. The word itself means to re-feel. At first when I start stewing about someone, I think it’s just because they are a jerk. But if my stewing gets really bad, or it expands to include more “jerks,” then it finally occurs to me that I need an attitude adjustment. I do a technique I learned from a book: a Four Column Resentment Inventory. I make four columns: 1. Who I’m resentful at, 2. What they did to me (my favorite column!), 3. What it affects in me, and 4. My part. By the time I get done with this written inventory, I often find the resentment gone, gone, gone. If it persists, I call someone on my spiritual path and talk it over. That usually does the trick . . . until the resentment again rears its ugly head. Then, rinse and repeat.
Problem: Feeling Overwhelmed
Tools: Meditation, journaling, rest
It’s not hard to fell overwhelmed in this lifestyle. Whereas someone in a stationary abode might claim boredom every now and again, that does not happen with my lifestyle. Rather, feeling overwhelmed with all the details is the more likely scenario. I have to decide where to travel, where to camp, which campsite to set up at, which tent or awning to put up, how to create privacy, how to get my work done, where to get food, where to walk my dog, where to find support group meetings, and so on and on and on. When I’m in splendid shape mentally and emotionally, these tasks are fun and invigorating. But when I’m off my center, it all seems too much. My first tool will be to sit in meditation. I learned a meditation (vipassana) that is almost like magic. When I sit and do this meditation for 20 minutes to an hour, I can almost feel all the bits and pieces of matter in my mind settling one by one into a mental filing cabinet, tucked away where I can find them, rather than swirling around in my head. When I rise up, I feel clear minded and can approach my tasks in a logical and doable manner. The second tool is to write in my journal, to cry out to the universe for help, for guidance. Usually by the time I’ve written two sentences, I’m already making a list of what to do next, and then next. Again, it feels like magic. The third tool is to just lie down and take a nap and let my subconscious work on it for a bit.
Problem: Feeling self-conscious, feeling like a freak
Tools: Time on the road, time with my peers
When I started out this full-time traveling journey, I felt very self-conscious, as though people were staring at me and proclaiming me a freak. I was embarrassed to be a woman of a certain age living in a tiny trailer. How pathetic is that? Of course, my reality is splendid, magical, colorful, invigorating, stimulating, fun, challenging, and really good exercise. None of those experiences sound pathetic. But I was worried about what others thought. That was really acute when I started out at two state campgrounds in Louisiana. There, for 2 weeks at each campground, I was mostly around families camping for the week or the weekend. At Fountainbleau State Park across Lake Pontchartrain from New Orleans, I was camping near a father and his small children. On the last day of their campout, the father sent one of the kids over with a big tray of eggs and bacon and pancakes that they had left over. I thanked them for their graciousness, and thought to myself that my dog would have some nice treats for the next few days. But now that I think about it, I believe they might have been sending food over to the pathetic homeless woman. Now, many moons later, I literally never feel that way. That’s because I camp in a series of membership campgrounds where nearly everyone is full-time in their RVs, from trailers to $2 million motorhomes and everything in between. We all know what we are doing here and most of us are thrilled with this nomad lifestyle. I didn’t really need to do much personal work to overcome my problem of feeling self-conscious. Mostly, I needed to just find my tribe. And I had no idea that I’d start to build a community of fellow travelers, and those who stay mostly at one or two of the membership campgrounds. I have friends all over. And I have to admit that I probably am a freak, but it’s a good kind of freakiness.
Problem: Depression
Tools: Sobriety, abstinence from sugar and grains, exercise, being real
While I was a walking mass of pain and depression early in life, I now have virtually no depression. That’s because when I was told to take pills for depression, I decided to do some research. I found out that if I do not exercise, I will become depressed. I found out that if I eat sugars or grains, or drink alcohol or use other intoxicants, I become depressed. I found out that if I am not honest about who I am, I become depressed. So I decided to do everything possible to overcome my depression. It’s like another full time job. For exercise, I walk my dog. When I had a dog who was crippled later in life, I had to take him out for his social needs, and then go out on another power walk for myself. My current dog is healthy and loves to walk, so I’m very fortunate. When I choose a campground, perhaps the biggest consideration is good walking areas. I have not eaten sugar since 1982, and I don’t eat grains or starches. That does wonders for my body chemistry. Alcohol and pot have not been an option for me since 1982 as well. Being honest about who I am, likely a freak, is an ongoing mission. Taken altogether, I am happily and gratefully free of depression.
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Before I set out on this trip, I had massive fears. I thought I might last until Thanksgiving (4 or 5 months) and then creep back to stay with someone and find a place to live. I was lucky enough to have four separate friends or family members who let me know their home would be a temporary refuge as a built back my life, should I quit early. And I totally expected to quit. I had hard times in the beginning. But eventually as I resolved the internal and external problems that beset me, I began to embrace the freedom and excitement that this lifestyle can bring. Without the tools listed above, I doubt I would have made it past Fountainbleau State Park. I thank the universe and all who have walked the path of recovery with me. I don’t want to sound cocky. But at this point, I cannot see any reason to come in off the road. But when I do, I’ll use all my tools to make it an easy and graceful transition. For today, I’m still living the dream and not, as a clerk at a store in Florida said, enduring the nightmare. I wish for all of us to develop the tools we need for a truly happy life.