02/08/2013
I. Fear. Change. I have a fundamental fear of changing the status quo. Everything I have ever let go of has claw marks in it. But alas...here I am...
Despite the fact that I have more than doubled my rent costs, I don't own jack for furniture, and I have an ulcer the size of Texas. I have officially taken possession of my new house. Yeah. House. Well, mobile home....but it's not on wheels, it has two fully working bathrooms, and three bedrooms and it sits on a gorgous piece of property far from anything resembling town. While I am bordering on ecstatic, I can feel my anxiety level sky rocketing. The TinCan was home. This new place is not home. Not yet.
Everyone asks me how I survived in a travel trailer for two and a half years. Well, it started out like this. I wanted a degree in Animal Science. Plain and simple. I have wanted that degree since I was 12 years old and visited OSU for a weekend. Furthermore, I wanted that degree from OSU. I was 28 years old with a 4 yr old daughter, and giant dogs. No one would rent me an apartment and I couldn't afford it if they did. I still had a husband back home who couldn't relocate here, and a house. The cheapest way to make my plan come to life was to rent an RV space. But I needed an RV :/
I bought the TinCan from a woman in Washington. It had been sitting in her backyard for 13 years. It was filthy and sticky and needed some serious work, but I fell in love with it. Those who know me are familiar with my propensity for ugly things. I reserved an RV space from a guy I didn't know, and started working. The summer of 2010 was the summer of the Can...new floor, new fixtures, new countertops, shower, upholstery, etc. The fights my husband and I had over completion of this task were epic. Nevertheless, on September 27th, the day before I was to start classes at OSU, we pulled into Philomath with the TinCan in tow. The first night was harrowing. My daughter didn't want to sleep. I couldn't sleep. The air compressor in the nearby shop fired up at 5 am and scared me half to death. I took my daughter to daycare the next morning and got to campus with absolutely no idea where I was going. I walked into my first class 5 minutes late and was relieved by the fact that it hadn't progressed beyond people milling about and the instructor Dr. Hermes, blaring classic rock through the auditorium speakers. I always loved that class for that reason. 8am classic rock...way to start the day.
I've had a lot more classes and a lot more confusing days in the Can. The day of the tree frog invasion....the day the bathroom pipes exploded...the day the septic backed up...the day I stopped traveling home on weekends....the day I left my husband. It's all been a journey, appropriately taking place in a travel trailer. Even if the trailer didn't travel. We've endured freezing nights, sweltering days, screaming children with no room to send them to, giant dogs who thing they belong in beds not made for full time use, a kitchen sink not quite the size of a stock pot, exactly 4 minutes of hot water...
I could go on about the issues involved in living in an RV, but there were moments that happened in that trailer that make all of the day to day frustrations and tears worth it. My TinCan was where my daughter got ready for her first day of Kindergarten. I have a picture from the first day of school two years in a row, standing on the front steps of the Can. It was where I celebrated a year at OSU. Then two. It was where I practiced yoga and meditation and lost 50 pounds. It was where I gathered my thoughts and made decisions. Where I cried and screamed and threw things. Where my heart broke and healed. Where I became me, again. It's both shocking and encouraging to realize that your entire life can fit in a 30 by 8 foot space on four tires.
I always said about the TinCan, "it's mine, no one can take it from me" and I held on to that pretty ferociously, but the time has come to branch out, to embrace the fear and accept the change, to give my daughter some breathing room and to give the Can a break. She is tired.
But for the fans of the page, I am not going anywhere, just expanding. The new house will be home in a short while. I may call it the TinCan 2.0...or The Revenge...hmmm.
If you're ever given the opportunity to live in a very small space with very little, take it. Be nomadic, be romantic, be simple, be you. Without all of the influences and stresses of a home and storage and junk you rarely ever touch more than once a year. Live in a studio, a trailer, a car...and don't worry what people think of you because in that small of a space there isn't so much room for your focus to wander and you find yourself getting to know your "self" better. You can't help but learn something about your company in such tight quarters, and while moving around is difficult, they say love grows in small spaces. I think that is true.
