Community and the Island of Misfits

The overwhelming emotion of our transition into a new lifestyle continues to sneak up on me. This last week, I have been battling with the baby steps we are taking to travel full time. Baby steps that I decided were necessary in order to properly acclimate to the new way of  life. We are 48 minutes, 44.3 miles, and 1268 more above sea level from Salt Lake City. The original plan was to move to Heber, make any commutes necessary, enjoy the scenery, enjoy our top rated RV resort, and maintain our Salt Lake world. That is proving to be unmanageable. The drive does not bother me and our girls. We really enjoy it. However, when I added up the many hours we were on the road each week, I realized this was not the most effective use of my time. Now, as we meet more people in Heber, and fall in love with the area, I feel the pain of baby steps to good-bye. I am slowly minimizing our time in the Salt Lake Valley. The place that we have known as home for 9 years.  The individuals that surrounded us with love and grace during some of the worst trials of our lives. And honestly, the people that made this all possible. I am faced with the gut wrenching reality of a long good bye to lifelong friends, and the future of the many good-byes to come. And that is perfect soil for doubt...lots and lots of doubt.

Within the RV community, it is an understood adjustment to get close fast and say simple good-byes. However, when venturing out from that community and enter the world of sticks and bricks, churches, clubs, other areas of socializing, I am realizing that for the next few years we will be building community, leaving it, and rebuilding it over and over and over. We will be finding churches in the areas we go to, we will be putting our children into extracurricular activities, we will join up with groups that enjoy the same hobbies and activities that we do. I am sure there are many soul mates and kindred spirits along our future paths.

In the middle of all these feelly feels that I am feeling (not an overly emotional person, so still not sure how to deal), Scott and I had an interesting encounter at a sticks and bricks gathering. During a potlock in a neighborhood that is walking distance from our RV,  while engaging in conversation there was definitely some obvious disappointment and a kind of brush off because we were not going to be permanent citizens of Heber. 

Then, we had our first "are you crazy, what on earth are you doing" reactions to our lifestyle choice. We were not prepared. In the future, I will be ready with notecards with a quick and easy explanation of our sanity. I could tell Scott was caught off guard and immediately started to defend our upcoming adventure. This person was not seeing the vision at all, so I changed the subject. I am pretty sure if you feel the need to start defending yourself on something that should be a personal choice and not at all controversial, then its probably time to shut down the conversation.

When we got home, it was obvious that Scott and I shared the moment of feeling a bit overexposed and slightly judged or rejected or maybe just confused. We have been feeling genuinely supported for the most part up until this point. There were a few friends that told us they could never adopt this way of living, but that has been the extent of opinions. And those are opinions we understand from people that we love.(Of course this lifestyle is not for everybody.) Why were we taking this stranger's opinion so hard? Why were we taken aback by people that were not really interested in getting to know us on a personal level if we would be leaving next year?  The logical side and the emotional side of my brain are baffled. Doubt is tricky business.

When we returned home to our little house on wheels, we met a woman whose family (husband and two small children) had just adopted the lifestyle and were living in an Airstream. We immediately immersed ourselves in deep conversation about life, finances, raising children, homeschooling, birth, etc. In a matter of 30 minutes. I told her it was so refreshing to speak to her after our evening, because we had our first shock and awe (not in a good way) encounter. She was like "oh yeah, plenty of people think we are crazy" with a nod of her head and flip of her hair. She knew it and she had experienced it, and her confidence in her choice was apparent. I left the conversation telling Scott "this is our community."  Perhaps we are misfits, but we are a happy bunch of misfits. We share so much in such a short amount of time. Friendships build that would normally take months or years to develop, and we get each other. We have a common link of having the bug to do something different and live a simplified life fueled by experiences and building relationships that transcend the bounds of physical location. I let out a sigh of relief as I connected all the dots of my heart tugging week, and settled back into my peace once again with our choice to live out of bounds.