The View from My Rearview

RV Life: 365 days later

It’s official. Today is the first of February and the nintieth day that I’ve been plagued with writer’s block. I have literally nothing to say, about anything. Past, present, future…nothingggg. This comes and goes but this time it seems it’s lasting much longer than usual. Back in October I spoke with a woman whose daughter died tragically at Waioka Pond and agreed to help her come up with new ideas for PSAs for tourism. Instead, I’ve just been sitting here for almost six months writing a couple sentences and then staring at a blank screen full of bullshit. And the longer it takes to do, the more monumental the feat. It makes me sick to my stomach, but there’s really nothing I can do to fix it besides come off my medication and plunge back into the emotional rollercoaster.

From house to homeless and back again…

Last year at this time we were living in the trailer in my mom’s driveway getting ready to go on our big adventure. I’d owned that house for 15 years and really didn’t know anything else. I took security and privacy, and certainly the simplest of amenities, for granted. I needed a change, freedom. I wanted to live in a fucking trailer and no one could tell me shit about it. Well, that was a fucking flop not just because trailer life is incredibly harder than you think it is, but it is also incredibly alienating. Not only are you constantly wrestling with the minor inconveniences of shit constantly breaking, you are also out on the road completely alone, withoout another person to talk to or interact with. Not just without community or a place to stand still but independent in a way that I’d never really known and didn’t necessarily love. Can I change a tire? Can I rewire a transfer box? Can I drag a 12,000 lbs trailer up a mountain in a failing truck? All yes, I can do it, just doesn’t mean I fucking want to.

Looks like we’ve come full circle or close enough for now. Cutie and I just moved into our first ever apartment and so far we’re loving it. While I always thought I’d hate it because of the proximity to others and the lack of things you can do with a space, it’s actually quite refreshing. No dogs barking, no Sabrina Carpenter songs in the morning, the top floor is surprisingly quiet. Everyone in the building has to work to afford the extremely steep prices so it’s also fairly empty most of the time, which I love. And my inability to tile and build cabinets in this temporary space is actually great because my home handyman shit knew no bounds and honestly got in the way of my other goals. My need for aesthetic pleasure was an obsession and this place has put the breaks on that considerably. But let’s talk luxury for a moment. I have a dishwasher again, a huge step up from rinsing plastic dishes in the trickle of cold tank water. When ever I want a drink of water, there’s an endless supply of fresh, clean water and ice cubes at the ready. Cutie makes a small mess and it’s straight to the washer and dryer instead of awkwardly trying to clean up piss with a spray bottle and napkins. Last but cetainly not least, this place comes with hot water, on demand, in every fucking sink!! I know, absolutely incredible. I can wash my hands or jump in the shower without heating water for twenty minutes first or worrying about flooding the tanks. The first time I showered, I stood under the rain shower head eating carne asada fries and trust when I say, I’d never felt such joy in my whole life. Seems pretty trivial but I’m telling you only a life without these things will make you truly humble and appreciative.

Back to the bullshit…

While I desperately wanted to leave Las Vegas and give myself an uninterupted year to hone my skills blogging, I’d say I really only got a few months of concentrated effort. The constant worry and fear of being broken down then moving three times in twelve months has proven to be even harder on my writing than I imagined. So I’m back bartending, the thing I loathed the most in life. Guess what? It’s not that bad. I found a company that I kinda like with people I enjoy and that makes all the difference. I’m also doing it very, very part time and that makes it better as well. As for money, we’re now going to see how adaptable I truly am as I juggle four different streams of part time income to make up for that one job I thought I fucking hated which also probably wasn’t that bad either. Looks like all I was ever missing was meds and perspective.

If I could do it all over again…

Let’s talk about some of my favorite themes, regret and self hatred. I spent my whole life wondering and hating myself because I never took that leap. Then I took that leap and spent the last year wallowing in self pity because it was the biggest mistake of my life. The first three months I was home and renting a room that my friend’s deceased mother used to reside in was certainly the lowest point, blowing money, languishing the day away on her pillowtop mattress and crying over spilt vodka at night. What a fucking miserable time that was. But here’s the thing, as with any other grief, as the time passes, the sting lessens and it just becomes another one of those things you live through. Choices were made, period. Does not matter if they were right or wrong. What’s done is done. Looking back now, knowing all that I do, I don’t think I can use the word “regret” anymore. I took a shot and I missed, whether my fault or the universe’s, but I lived through it and I’m ok. We’re ok. And that makes everything else ok. Again perspective is key.

I tried and that’s more than most can say.

Where do we go from here?

Back to fucking work to pay for this luxury apartment, lol. Yes, but also, my love of life and travel and independence may have been singed but didn’t die out. I still want to finish this adventure I began, perhaps just modified. I still have the trailer and it’s working just fine, for now. The truck remains to be seen as every time I get in the fucking thing some new light is flashing. I’ve held out hope that it was all the many things Cummins has replaced but a bit of gas coming out of the exhaust a few days ago indicates a faulty injector and frankly, that’s a whole fucking new engine I’m not prepared to replace. Back to Lemon Law it is.

Should we finally procure a truck that runs properly, I’d love to get back out and finish the loop. We never got to see Wyoming or Montana. I missed Vancouver Island and the whales in Puget Sound. There’s still plenty of miles to cover, and I’m not letting that dream die until I die with it. This time it’s just going to look a little different. More knowledge, more experience, less risk. And a perfect little apartment at home waiting for us when we’re done.

The moral of the story is it’s your life and you only live once, but you also have to live with the consequences. Make choices but manage risk and expectation. And if you fall on your fucking face, well, so did I.

xoxo, The Bitter Bitch