We All Have Our (Demons) Reasons – March 5th, 2020

Being snuggled away in a comfortable Airbnb for the last few nights has been a much-needed break from the cold. Knowing that tomorrow holds a visit with a friend from Oaxaca is a warm light at the end of this week-long tunnel of weirdness. 

This will be the third night in the same bed; and this is the longest stretch of stability since leaving New Orleans seven days ago, though it feels like a month.

Running into a friend and her family (mostly) unexpected, in Jacksonville, Florida, was a treat. As was the two-night respite in Leesburg, Florida. It was a luxurious stay with amazing people, delicious food, excellent entertainment, and a journey to watch some calming manatees. Which is good, because apparently, the Calming Manatee website is down. My condolences to the internet; here are some pics and a vid to soothe you in the interim.

The search for the perfect van continues, the path now pointing to North Carolina, where hopefully the weather will improve. Not being able to do more than a hundred or so miles at a stretch is proving to be problematic. Taking shelter in affordable housing instead of camping or staying with friends is also a total bummer, but such is life on the road. 

The two-day storm has been insatiable. The bedroom walls vibrate from the lightening connecting the ground to the sky just a mile away. The rain soaks Solo and forces some much needed Goddard time as well as a detox from social media. Nearly three weeks ahead of schedule, one packet is almost done. 

Piecing together the stops from here to Matthews, NC from Saturday to Monday has been a chore, as well as triple checking the weather, and guestimating how many miles this body can handle in fifty-degree weather. Starting tomorrow, after hopefully having a day to socialize, and maybe, just maybe, check out Savannah, every night until Monday will be spent at a new location. Jumping from home to home is the current future until landing in Tennessee with the family for a couple weeks, hoping nothing will be like the night in Mobile, Alabama.

On that note, to everyone who reached out after the last post, thank you. Sincerely. 

The idea of leaving those words somewhere in the void, verses posting them was assessed, and it was determined, that fuck it. This shit is real. 

Mental illness is a fact of life that people still seem to whisper about. It’s not a secret that I suffer from depression, and sometimes anxiety, but I rarely post about it because I’m trying to create a more positive reality. But it’s not perfect all the time, and it would be a disservice to always paint it as such. I’m lucky enough that I don’t have to be on medication, but there were points in my life where I should have been. I should also have a therapist but that’s hard when I’m in motion. In lieu of that, writing is the best therapy, most days. 

With this chapter of the journey coming to a close, it’s probably time to talk about why I did this. 

There’s a bunch of different reasons, honestly, and they all kind of kaleidoscoped into one thought: I need to leave Vermont. 

The cold. After eighteen winters, I was just exhausted with the bitterness. 

Four people died in one year. One of my closest friends, my uncle in law on the same day, my aunt two months later, and a woman who was an integral part of my childhood experience died on my dead friend’s birthday.

Escaped abuse. In the same week that my friend died, all the ugliness of a two-year abusive relationship came to light. It’s remarkable how blinded I was to it until I genuinely needed emotional support. I don’t want to get into the fine details of it, but short of beating me, he did most everything else. 

I hated my job. I loved the people and the academy–I wouldn’t have stayed as long as I did if I didn’t believe in what they are doing–but the work was soul-sucking. After twelve years in finance, I never want to deal with another spreadsheet that isn’t mine.

It was just time. I’ve been taking care of other people since I was eighteen. Be it children, partners, friends, and so on. Even the four years in college at VTC was about doing what was best for the offspring, as working at minimum wage was not providing the life I’d hoped for them.

So it’s time. It’s time to take care of myself and figure out what life really has to offer, and while this journey is bringing my tired, semi-broken-by-the-road-body back to Vermont, it’s not where I’ll land. It’ll be just enough time to recuperate, rejoice in all the love the state and its people have to offer, and then turn my attention back to the road. 

Only this time, it will be with a home on wheels. Comfort is something that does not have to be sacrificed. A stable bed with memory foam seems like a luxury after ten months of not knowing where I’ll sleep next.

In the meantime, while traveling and writing are where my happiness resides, when stability isn’t there, comfort can be found in a warm bathtub, with freshly shaved legs, and the lingering smell of hair dye escaping down the drain.