fbpx

Losing that homeless feeling of van life

*This post may contain affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Please read our disclosure policy for more info.

I vividly remember the day I left my cozy apartment in Mill Valley, a bedroom community north of San Francisco, and started living in a car. My apartment looked barren; I’d given away most of my stuff, and the rest I’d stashed in a shipping container in Sausalito.

That shipping container held the items I couldn’t bear to part with. A couple pieces of furniture that tethered me to the world of apartments. Some childhood mementos. Two suitcases of my clothes.

I felt so vulnerable and alone. Was I doing the right thing? Was giving my nice apartment up to start living in a car and a tent to pay off my debt the best decision?

[clickToTweet tweet=”Was giving my nice apartment up to live in a car and a tent to pay off my debt the best decision?” quote=”Was giving my nice apartment up to live in a car and a tent to pay off my debt the best decision?”]

I had to say goodbye to coffee on my couch in the morning, a closet to store my clothes, a stove on which to cook, a bathroom to use at night!  I had to say goodbye to my sense of security. I also said goodbye to my sense of autonomy, since I was living in my boyfriend’s car.

Giving up my sense of home was one of the scariest decisions I’ve ever made.

Want to find FREE camping?

Download my FREE boondocking starter guide right now:

We won't send you spam. Unsubscribe at any time. *This also subscribes you to The Wayward Home newsletter Powered by ConvertKit

Feeling homeless when I first started living in a car

How living in a car changed me

My car is a wreck, I thought to myself on my third day of living in a car. An overflowing laundry basket sat in the back seat next to a clear bin full of bathroom stuff. A pile of shoes was crammed on the floor behind the driver’s seat. A dress or two hung from the headrest. It looked bad.

[You might also like: How to live in your car]

I was parked on the side of the road near my storage unit trying to get organized, and couldn’t help but feeling conspicuous, rummaging around in my car with messy hair and mascara smeared around my eyes. I hadn’t slept very well the night before; too many thoughts and worries.

It was quite an adjustment going from place to no place, and I’d woken up in fits and starts, knowing why I was doing this but also wondering how long it was going to last. I was exhausted and just wanted a warm bed with thick blankets to nestle under.

Isn’t this exactly what homeless people do? I thought as I put a pair of dirty socks into the hamper. Rummage around looking crazy in their messy cars?

Flashbacks of people in similar scenarios flashed through my head: The woman with dark circles under her eyes and ill-fitting clothes digging around in her garbage-filled trunk. A man with ratty hair and plastic over his windows trying to find something in the back seat. Those people always seemed to have a capital “H” emblazoned on their foreheads. “H” for homeless.

It was obvious they’d fallen on hard times, and I wondered if other people thought the same thing about me. Do I look homeless? It was hard to know.

That morning, I spent some time cleaning up and organizing my car, swearing that I wouldn’t do this for long, just long enough to pay off my debt.

This way of life had me feeling down and out, constantly rummaging and puttering about, and I caught a glimpse of how a living situation can truly shape a person and how they feel about themselves.

And as the weeks turned into months, I started to redefine the meaning of home.

Car life and the meaning of home

How living in a car changed me
A hike in Palm Springs. Living in a car made me feel much more connected to nature than I’ve ever been.

When I lived in the car we stayed in campsites near San Francisco and commuted into the city for work.

Even though it was odd to be doing this every single day, as a lifestyle, there were joyous things about camping beneath the stars.

[You might also like: 13 camper essentials for living the van life]

After a busy day covering stories for the radio station and fighting hordes of angry drivers, I felt soothed coming home to the trees. Life felt simpler in the campground. All I had to worry about was getting water for our campsite and preparing our dinner.

There were no chores, no cleaning, no anger, no stress, no pretention, no competition for the fanciest house or car or restaurant. There were only deer and owls and the trees and a little babbling brook nearby.

[clickToTweet tweet=”With living in a car, there’s no competition for the fanciest house or car or restaurant. ” quote=”With living in a car, there’s no competition for the fanciest house or car or restaurant. “]

That night, while lying in the huge tent with my boyfriend Tom, I thought about his friend Heinrich and his enduring happiness and thankfulness for the natural world. Heinrich’s favorite word was “fantastic”, and he used it regularly to describe what he thought was beauty in life, especially when it came to sleeping in his van.

What was fantastic to him was the beauty of nature, of being, of inhabiting a lifestyle so far outside the norm.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” He’d murmur over a glass of red wine when he visited us at the campsite. “I pull up near these bushes with fragrant flowers and slide my van door open all the way. I smell flowers all night while I sleep. Isn’t it fantastic!” He’d shake his head from side to side and smile with deep pleasure at the memory, at the beauty of the world we live in.

Maybe the big “H” on my head didn’t have to really mean homeless.

Maybe it could mean Happy. Or Healthy. Or Hopeful. I was on my way to being debt-free. I was enjoying nature. I was with Tom. And that, in itself, truly was fantastic indeed.

What I learned living in a car

Five questions I'm always asked about living in a Prius | living in car | sleeping in a car | Toyota Prius
View of the Columbia River Gorge while taking a nap inside the Prius

I didn’t live in a car for long, only four months, but it taught me a lot.

  • It taught me what I truly need to live and be happy, which is my family, friends and nature.
  • It taught me that I am resilient, that even though I feel homeless one day, I’ll be okay the next.
  • It taught me that I can live in a small space with my significant other, a skill that has now translated into living on a sailboat together.
  • I’ve learned that I’m really not into buying and owning stuff.
  • It taught me that life truly is an adventure to be enjoyed and experienced, and that we should truly take moments out of every day and relish them

I know my experiences living small have changed me for good, and I hope for the better.

How has living a smaller life changed you? I’d love to know!

FREE DOWNLOAD! 7 simple recipes for a small space!

Sign up to download seven of my favorite recipes for a small space! From chicken piccata, to shepherd's pie, to beef picadillo, these are sure to make your mouth water.

We won't send you spam. Unsubscribe at any time. Powered by ConvertKit

7 thoughts on “Losing that homeless feeling of van life”

  1. Living in my car has absolutely changed me. It has highlighted certain skills and abilities that I have and brought them to the forefront of my daily life. Its has shown me that I am an extremely resilient, capable and positive thinking person. It has allowed me to practice my passion and love for massage in a way that most other therapists don’t get to experience. I have been living in my Honda Fit for the past 9 months, with a few of those months being more part time than others, and I love the challenge, the struggle…I really do. It makes you feel very alive and present, self reliant. I am blessed to say this as not many Americans can truly feel this way with any frequency. I subscribed to your mailing list and I will definitely be checking out your blog and affiliate marketing links, as I am starting to explore location independent income sources myself.

    Warmth,
    Nick

    Reply
    • Hi Nick! Wow, a Honda Fit..that’s impressive. I totally agree with your assessments of the experience, what a life-changing experience! Thanks for subscribing to my blog…I’d love to talk to you further. Look for an email from me!

      Reply
  2. I just turned 67 a few days ago, feel about 40, which at one time in my younger life seemed to be really old!! I’m lying in my comfortable bed with my wife and two dogs while I write this, nice house, 33 year corporate job behind me, three wonderful grown kids and two adorable grandkids. So, what’s my point in saying all that? Do it while you are young and while you can!! As I reflect back to my young days, I would have loved to go what to and your boyfriend are doing. I was too immature to commit to that, really just moving through life, pretty much just how my parents did and how they woul expect me to do!! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a great life with many adventures and many times that I now feel lucky to have survived. I love that you two are living your dreams and loving life. So glad that I stumbled on to your site!!- Brian

    Reply
    • Thanks for writing this, Brian!! Yes, my feeling is I would rather travel, explore, hike, backpack, surf, etc. NOW while my body can still handle the beating, hah! You are not at all old – plenty of time left. My dad is your age and hikes or skis several times per week. As long as we take care of our bodies, they can serve us for a good amount of time.

      Reply

Leave a Comment