Reality Check
My mind is pretty much made up. I'm going to jump into the full time RVing lifestyle head first. While the RV isn't purchased yet, the mental commitment has been made. I know in my heart and in my head that this is where I'm going, and quite honestly it's terrifying.
My first reality check came when I towed a trailer for the first time. How I went from never towing anything to deciding to live in a towable vehicle full time I'll never know. I hooked up my step dad's ten foot flat bed trailer and drove to an abandoned store's parking lot and practiced. Hooking up was easy. Driving straight, also easy. Backing up? Well not so much. I knew there'd be a learning curve to towing. As with anything new, practice makes perfect. I failed to realize though how hard it was to make a trailer go where I wanted it to go, how easy it was to jack knife the trailer, and how often my mind slipped into "truck driving" instead of "trailer driving". I thought this was a skill I could learn and replicate within the span of a weekend, then work on perfecting it when the actual purchase came. I now realize that this is not the case, and just like learning how to drive in the first place, many hours of practice are going to be needed before I can safely transport my future home on wheels.
My second reality check came in the form of downsizing, or rather the anxiety at the thought of planning to downsize. I have so much stuff. When I evacuated for hurricane I had one rubbermaid tote of sentimental stuff and a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries. I left my home that weekend fully expecting a tornado or one of the hurricane's infamous "feeder bands" to wipe out my homestead and destroy my remaining belongings. The idea of losing so much stuff to a natural disaster was sad. Some items were irreplaceable: The coffee table my dad made before I was born, the wooden bookshelves my grandfather made, the German Shepherd statue my mother painted in the likeness of their dog Sheba, the dining room table my grandmother had that still bears indents of my mother's grade school name and homework. The idea of getting rid of these items by choice, however, is inconceivable. I will be renting a storage unit when I decide to move into the mobile mansion on wheels, as family members do not want to store my stuff or if they do I probably won't be getting it back. I know myself well though, and if I rent a storage unit I know I will be storing a lot more than just that sentimental stuff. I have a myriad of beer pint glasses that I've five fingered from various restaurants and breweries, each one a time stamp of places I've been and lived. I have several coffee mugs I'm hesitant to part with, each one depicting my style and personality. I have a kitchen-aid mixer and a molcajete, each one a Christmas gift, each item used once a year and both I'd store rather than part with. I would love to shed myself of this stuff, but the emotional ties are too strong to cut. Another reason I'm hesitant to downsize is because every item is tactfully displayed or has a prominent presence in my current dwelling. Parting with it too soon will leave me in a very large two bedroom, two bath home with nothing but barren walls and floors. Not a very pleasant thought to come home to day after day.
Neither of these reality checks have changed my mind, but they have made me remove the rose tinted glasses I've been wearing. Full time RVing no longer seems to be a glamorous lifestyle filled with custom DIY mods, scenic escapes, and grand adventures. It is now reality of a new and very different lifestyle, and a very big change to my current life.
My second reality check came in the form of downsizing, or rather the anxiety at the thought of planning to downsize. I have so much stuff. When I evacuated for hurricane I had one rubbermaid tote of sentimental stuff and a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries. I left my home that weekend fully expecting a tornado or one of the hurricane's infamous "feeder bands" to wipe out my homestead and destroy my remaining belongings. The idea of losing so much stuff to a natural disaster was sad. Some items were irreplaceable: The coffee table my dad made before I was born, the wooden bookshelves my grandfather made, the German Shepherd statue my mother painted in the likeness of their dog Sheba, the dining room table my grandmother had that still bears indents of my mother's grade school name and homework. The idea of getting rid of these items by choice, however, is inconceivable. I will be renting a storage unit when I decide to move into the mobile mansion on wheels, as family members do not want to store my stuff or if they do I probably won't be getting it back. I know myself well though, and if I rent a storage unit I know I will be storing a lot more than just that sentimental stuff. I have a myriad of beer pint glasses that I've five fingered from various restaurants and breweries, each one a time stamp of places I've been and lived. I have several coffee mugs I'm hesitant to part with, each one depicting my style and personality. I have a kitchen-aid mixer and a molcajete, each one a Christmas gift, each item used once a year and both I'd store rather than part with. I would love to shed myself of this stuff, but the emotional ties are too strong to cut. Another reason I'm hesitant to downsize is because every item is tactfully displayed or has a prominent presence in my current dwelling. Parting with it too soon will leave me in a very large two bedroom, two bath home with nothing but barren walls and floors. Not a very pleasant thought to come home to day after day.Neither of these reality checks have changed my mind, but they have made me remove the rose tinted glasses I've been wearing. Full time RVing no longer seems to be a glamorous lifestyle filled with custom DIY mods, scenic escapes, and grand adventures. It is now reality of a new and very different lifestyle, and a very big change to my current life.
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