It's just a f*cking adventure.

After what was supposed to be a thirteen week assignment, I finally hung up my stethoscope in Colorado after eleven months. That assignment was so good to me. That state is incredible, the hospital and staff are great, and Henley and I spent the last seven months with an amazing human roommate and a very cute/squishy/slobbery/dependent dog roommate. I was both sad to leave and excited to go — How lucky am I?

This new assignment I am very happy about! Alaska was at the top of my to-go list when I started travel nursing. I tried last summer, but didn’t find an assignment I liked. But I found The One for this summer! Not only is it in Anchorage, where I decided was the only place I wanted to take a job, but it’s an infusion center! AN INFUSION CENTER! For twelve blissful weeks I will not be a bedside nurse. 

People go to scheduled appointments at an infusion center often for outpatient chemotherapy, antibiotics, blood, iron, and immunotherapy to name a few. There are so many things about working in an infusion center that is so much better for me than working on the floor. The list is so long I won’t even get into it. But one other cool thing I’ll mention is that this medical center is just for Alaska Natives. It’ll be so different and interesting. I have a few books I’ve been digging into to learn about this culture to better serve them. 

And a long, sad story they have. Of course, Alaska covers a huge area and all of the people did not have the exact same experiences. However, it is my understanding that I can generally say that ever since white men (at first, Russian explorers, but then European traders, whalers, and missionaries) started coming over in the mid 1700s, the lives of Alaska Natives has been turned upside down. The white men brought diseases that the Natives had no immunity to. Around sixty percent of Native people were erased. In addition, the missionaries would not let the Natives live their own way. Although the Natives believed in harmony among the land, sea, and all beings there, the white men didn’t understand their ways and considered them “backward savages." The Native survivors of the epidemics, traumatized, were forced to follow the white missionaries. The Natives were made to believe that their old beliefs were evil and that they should be ashamed of them. They were not allowed to speak their languages or to speak of their old ways. They were forced into Christian church and to discard their old spirituality, dance, ceremonies, and traditions. Even their names were taken away and they were given white names. The survivors stopped speaking of their history to their children. These children grew up and had children who never knew anything of their people’s past. The missionaries created a people who would not speak of their hurt and pain and that is probably the worst thing they did. A few generations later and we still have a population with no coping mechanisms which has led to all of the diseases the Alaska Natives face today: depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, and the consequences of these: homelessness, unemployment, violent acts, criminal behavior, and the chronic diseases born from stress and poor lifestyle factors.* Needless to say, not every Alaska Native is suffering, but this tragedy affected enough. It is a part of our country's history that most Americans are unaware of so the story should be told.

Anyway…

It’s been a month now since moving into the van. I’ve been writing here and there, often after waking up on the beach somewhere, sipping on coffee, like I am now. Here is that log, a random selection of days living in a sixty-five square foot tin can on wheels and exploring this extraordinary state.

Day 1

We woke early and packed the last few things in the van. This is it. I’ve moved into a van. It’s official. 

We stopped at a dog park in Casper, Wyoming. I just gave Henley a bath last night, but he forgot this and ran straight to the giant puddle/small pond in the middle of the park and lied down, a few feet away from a dog taking a poop in said puddle pond. Now I’ve toweled Henley off and I’m left with a wet towel and a still-wet dog. In a van home. Where do I put this wet towel?? It’s these little annoyances that I’ve started to pick up on already. Some of them I imagine I’ll learn to control and resolve. Some will just stay as the inconveniences of living in a van. 

We drove on to Bozeman and then to Missoula, Montana where I am sleeping — where else — but a Walmart parking lot. There are about fifteen other RVs and vans here. I’ve never minded sleeping in lots like this or at highway rest stops on road trips. With others doing the same, it feels safe and kind of cozy.

Day 3

Today was a day of epic views and so many bears! I drove from Calgary, through Banff National Park and Jasper National Park, and then through hours of just trees until we stopped for the night in the largest town in any direction for hours, Grande Prairie. 

I take back what I said about not minding sleeping in lots like Walmart and rest stops. There’s two different vibes you can experience in a place like this. The more frequent is that we’re like-minded people, all doing this funny thing, we’re not going to bother one another, this is a quiet and safe place. The other vibe that I’ve experienced only a couple times now is when people are living in their vehicle in that lot long-term. We are no longer like-minded and we’re not doing the same thing and it is no longer a safe place. You can imagine the population that would live in a Walmart parking lot in a town in the middle of the woods. Until this point, I actually thought white trash was special to the States and never imagined it in Canada, a place Americans secretly admire and envy.

Day 4

We got to Liard Hot Springs in Yukon in the early evening and set up camp. One of the great things about the van is that when you go “camping,” you don’t have to set up anything or take it down. And it doesn’t matter that it’s raining. It’s nice and cozy inside and you don’t have to do any of that tent crap outside. I walked to the hot springs. It felt wonderful, but had a hot ground-water smell. Wish I brought some aromatherapy. In the water, I sat on a bench around the edge of the pool. The water came up to the middle of my chest. Once I got warm, I brought my feet up to the bench so my knees were out of the water. I stretched my arms out, resting on my knees, palms up. A cold rain hit my face and arms. It was perfect with the warm springs on the rest of my body. I got my fill and left once the other people there bothered me enough. It wasn’t crowded at all, but enough people to bother me. Wouldn’t it be nice to be alone in a hot spring? There were two MAGA hats at the pool’s edge and I was inspecting everyone, judging, trying to see who they belonged to. There were a few kids playing too loudly. An older woman entered the pool and sat on the bench about five feet away from me, too close for the size of the area, and made soft, gentle sex noises the entire time she was in the warm water. It was time to get back home. The door’s open, I see the nice wilderness, feel the cold breeze, but am quite cozy inside. Henley’s on a long cord attached to the van so he can come and go as he pleases. Right now he’s on his bed in the van chewing on a bone. I’m sipping on canned pinot noir. The fairy lights are on and a lavender candle is lit. I’m very content. Not just with right now, but with my life. I had risky decisions to make, but it feels like I made the right choices.

Day 5

I drove all day through trees, beautiful mountains out my windows. So many grizzlies! I had never seen bears before this drive and by the end of the day, I had lost count of how many I had seen thus far. Once when I went up to northern Maine for a weekend, I had the goal to see both a bear and moose. I didn’t see either. I kind of thought this trip was going to be like that. I know those animals are here, but I probably won’t see them. I was wrong! I can pretty much turn around now and call it a success.

Day 7

I’ve made it to Anchorage. That contentedness I felt before — it comes and goes. I often think instead “What the eff am I doing?” Vanlife in the city has done that to me. But, it’s still worth it! No regrets. I’ll get used to this and get a system down but get out of town whenever I can.

Day 13

Yesterday, I got out of work at 5:30, picked up Henley from day care, and drove an hour and a half to Hope, Alaska on the other side of Turnagain Arm — a waterway off of the Gulf of Alaska that reaches up to Anchorage. We came straight to a cafe in this historic town. It sits on a corner of land where a river meets the Turnagain Arm. I sat in a small, wood-filled, dark bar with locals. I drank an Alaskan lager and ordered a grilled halibut sandwich. I could see out the old four-pane window that there were places to park in a gravel lot. There were two small RVs and a pickup truck with a small towed camper. I asked the sweet bartender about it and she said it would cost me ten dollars to sleep in my vehicle. I added that to my bill and moved the van over there. Even though I’m still in the van I sleep in every night, it’s so nice being out here as opposed to Anchorage. Vanlife in the city isn’t great. I always feel like I’m sneaking around and just trying to park legally but still quietly and not attracting any attention. It’s been fine and still worth being up here and not paying rent, but I look forward to leaving every day off and weekend. Henley is on the cord attached to the van and can do what he wants. I leave the doors open. I can cook, which hasn’t been fun to do in the city. I feel freedom and contentedness again.

This morning we woke and opened one of the back doors and the sliding door. I made coffee in the French press and crawled back in bed. I let Henley come up and snuggle. The sun is warm but there’s a constant cool breeze. I can hear the river. Between me and the river there’s tall grass then mudflats. There’s mountains on two other sides of me, bright green reaching up to dark gray-brown rock with snow. I’m reading a memoir about Alaska — John McPhee’s Coming into the Country. I’ll make eggs in the cast iron soon. As soon as I can get out of bed. It’s eleven a.m. now. I’m just so comfy here, it’s been hard to make the move. We’ll drive to the end of the Arm today and go to Whittier and take a hike. Eventually, I’ll head back to Anchorage, go to the gym tonight, and go back to work tomorrow. Then I have the weekend off to get back to this feeling. 

Day 15

Repeat to self:  It’s just a fucking adventure. 

This is my new mantra. It reminds me that the discomfort is temporary, it’s not a big deal, stop being a baby.

Day 22

Last week I drove down to another coastal town, Seward. Now, I’m in Homer for a long weekend, the fishing town at the end of the Kenai Peninsula. I’ve always loved moseying around boat docks and now I get to do it regularly. I’m trying to immerse myself as much as possible in the fishing culture without actually having to fish.

Day 29

Today I’m driving the Denali Highway, a 134 mile mostly dirt road that ends near Denali National Park on the west end. There are only a few establishments on the road, but I’ve stopped at one when I saw its sign claiming they had pie. Blue and white checked vinyl tablecloths. Powdered creamer and red translucent plastic cups on the table. Mismatched mugs. Mine has an Asian nature scene on it with a panda. Thin, cheap silverware. The kind you used in the elementary school cafeteria. Hospital-grade coffee. VFW hall chairs. I can hear bacon sizzling on the grill. The food is unsurprising, which is comforting. It’s hard for me to stop at places like this. I don’t like dining indoors at a table alone — I’d rather be outside and with Henley. I’d like to get coffee to go but this isn’t Starbucks. Places like this are special and deserve to be sat in and appreciated for what they are. 

Day 30

My favorite part about traveling is pulling over whenever you feel compelled to do so. You see a beautiful lake in the distance and then you see a dirt road and you hope it goes there. You cross a bridge and think the water beneath looks good for swimming. A dirt road in the desert that goes seemingly nowhere. My best days on the road have been because I pulled over when I felt the draw. Because of that intuitive draw, today I dove into a river with icy-cold clear waters then later stood at the edge of a lake at the bottom of mountains and thought it was one of the most beautiful and peaceful places I have ever been. I sat in the scent of sun block and bug spray and did nothing but watch Henley swim and admire our Earth.   

---------------------------------------------

The world is my backyard now and I am grateful for this freedom and life every day. 

*Yunyaraq: The Way of the Human Being by Harold Napoleon

van remodel

As you probably already know, I made a huge leap and purchased a camper van in January. It was already built out but I did a lot of work to it to make it mine. Here I'll tell you about the van, what I've done to him, and some before, during, and after pictures. 

Building something out was kind of always a dream, but I had to be realistic. There's a lot I'm just not capable of doing or I wasn't comfortable trying to do or didn't have any of the equipment to do. It would have been too hard, stressful, expensive, and time consuming. I also didn't want to buy a shell and send it off to one of the many companies that do the whole custom build for you. That just wasn't in my budget. I decided to buy something used and already built out. Through a mutual friend, I was hooked up with a 2006 Freightliner Sprinter in Jackson Hole. I bought a one-way ticket, flew through a snow storm, and drove the baby home. I call him Morrison, Van Morrison.

The previous owner had done a really good job with all the basics I wanted in a van. He's insulated, has a solar panel on the roof, two auxiliary batteries in the back, is all wired up, a roof vent fan, a big window in the sliding door, built in bed, shelving, bench with storage, a pull-out table to use at the bench, closet area, kitchen counter, and kitchen storage.

The van walls were covered in gray upholstery. This was the highest priority thing I wanted to change. I really wanted white walls. I like a clean, minimalist look anyway, but it is especially what I want if I'm going to live in a van. I told myself this might be the only thing I change. I think I was subconsciously trying to not overwhelm myself. But once I got going on this first project, more and more and more things came up and it turned into a full remodel. I tore down all of the upholstery and installed blue pine tongue and groove walls. I decided not to paint it so I had the natural element of the wood and didn't have too much white, as I painted the ceiling and all of the built-ins white. There were a few areas that were too small or hidden where I didn't bother to put the pine planks, such as behind shelving, so I used a spray adhesive to attach very thin balsa wood planks. It gave the same look of the planked walls without taking up space or the effort to install.

There isn't a ninety degree angle where the walls meet the ceiling so I wasn't sure how to make the two meet neatly. I'm pretty inept at this carpentry stuff so I had to get very creative. I bought flimsy plastic placemats at Walmart, painted them ceiling white, and cut them into strips that could tuck behind the top pine plank and lie on the ceiling, glued down with liquid nails. They curved and filled the gap just how I wanted.

I installed a shelf over the end of the bed for books and things. This shelf and the kitchen shelf got a one inch by one inch plank across so things don't fall off. I've learned that things on the shelf can actually leap over this, but it helps a little.

At the head and foot of the bed, the insulation in the walls is not there to allow for several more inches of bed length. When I got the van, however, this area looked unfinished and you could see the insulation in the wall. This was quite the trick to finish, as the edges were curved. I used the same ingenuity I used for the ceiling/wall gap. I used the placemats again to curve around the edges and give a much cleaner, finished look.

For the kitchen, I really wanted a butcher block countertop and luckily, found a piece on Craigslist in Denver for a reasonable price (way lower than if I had to buy it new) right when I was looking for it. I had my super helpful friend with all the tools cut this to size for me and also cut out a hole for a sink. The van didn't have a sink before I got my hands on it, so I needed to set up the plumbing too. My super helpful friend saved me again here. I stained the countertop in walnut. I sewed a curtain using a lightweight Ikea throw blanket to cover the water tanks/plumbing and drawers under the kitchen counter. I bought adhesive tiles online for the backsplash in the kitchen and I installed vinyl plank flooring in dark walnut.

The van came with a stove top and refrigerator, both run with propane. This required two vents in the side of the van which are unsightly and the top vent is where I would have liked to install another window. I got rid of the fridge and stove top in order to be able to get rid of the vents and propane tank and allow for more counter space. I ended up deciding to wait on the window so the vents are still there but at least it's ready if I want a window later. I got a top-of-the-line mobile fridge/freezer and for cooking I'm using my parents' two-burner Coleman stove from the 70’s that they mailed to me, as well as a new one-burner butane stove for quick things because it lights instantly. I also bought an Omnia stove top oven from a Swedish company. It looks like a bundt pan. The idea is that you can bake in it on the stove top. I built a shelf over the fridge, under the kitchen counter, to store the stoves.

The van came with a small inverter where I can plug in electronic devices, powered by the auxiliary batteries. I upgraded to a bigger inverter to be able to run more powerful things, like a hair dryer and blender.

Having it all listed here, it doesn't look like that big of a deal. But let me tell you!... To me, EVERYTHING was hard. Nothing was easy. Or fun. This was so out of my wheelhouse and I didn't even touch the really hard stuff. I never knew what I was doing, I was constantly making it up as I went along, doing it over and over because it kept not working, and it was exhausting work. But I DID IT. And I don't regret any of it, but I'm so happy it's over!

---------------------------------

I always wanted the van to be able to be lived in. I always said "Well I might try it for a little while and I'll just get an apartment if it's not great." But really I was defending myself. I didn't want to sound crazy that I wanted to live in a van. But maybe it was okay if I was just going to try it for a little while? That might be fun. Now that it's getting closer and definitely happening, I'm not shying away from stating Yup, I'm moving into a van soon and am going to live in it for three plus months. Of course, there always are other fall back options, but I don't intend to use them. Maybe it’ll be hard. Maybe it’ll be inconvenient. Maybe I’ll sound crazy. Maybe it’ll be awkward when my new coworkers ask me where I’m living. Maybe I’ll save a ton of money by not paying rent. Maybe I’ll get mega-fit from going to the gym so much to shower. Maybe it’ll be a really cool experience that I’ll cherish and want to continue to do. Guess we’ll find out!

T-minus thirty hours until I start full-time vanlife!

*** So much love and gratitude for Caity, Krissy, & Darin for making this possible. ***

A Note to Oneself on Patience and Self-Love

I’m a terrible travel nurse. I’m not traveling! After leaving my permanent job in Denver, I did a three month stint in San Francisco then came to Longmont, Colorado for my second assignment. I have extended my contract here three times. I really like it here — the hospital, the staff, the patients, the mountains and hiking, knowing people in Denver, and now having new friends by staying in one place for more than three months. Traveling to a new place is so scary because you really don’t know what you’re walking into. It could be terrible and you’re stuck there for three months. Every assignment I start I risk that. That is what I signed up for. I am brave and proud of myself to do that. But I’m not stupid. Why leave something so good and risk my happiness (and at times, sanity) just to travel like I’m “supposed” to? I am staying because of comfort, yes. I’m staying because I don’t want to end up somewhere horrible and be unhappy for three months when I could be happy here. I’m now staying here until the end of May. But then I’m really leaving! Probably. I’m a terrible travel nurse.

I lived in Longmont near the hospital for the first three months. My rent was stupid high and I would not have stayed here unless I could get paid a lot more or get my rent a lot lower. I may be staying for comfort but I wasn’t going to sacrifice pay for it. A wonderful nurse I work with offered I come live with her for a fraction of what I was paying in Longmont. I've been living in Westminster, a suburb of Denver, since October. It’s a bit of a commute to work but worth every minute of that drive. Henley’s super comfortable having another body to lie on top of and I love having her around too. There’s a list of benefits of living here (her new Rottweiler rescue at the top of it!) and now it’ll be even harder to leave. 

I’m still evaluating my life and career and what I want to do. This is the first time in years that I’m not actively doing something to move forward or at least have plans on how to move forward. It’s a bit scary, like I’m wasting time. But I just don’t know yet. If a future plan involves me going to grad school, I need to be very sure about it. I am not signing up for that shit without being completely confident and excited about the end result. 

In my free time while not working towards a future career, I’ve been hiking with Henley and doing yoga almost every day off. I’ve gone to yoga classes sporadically for years, but this is the first time I have an unlimited membership at a studio. Yoga, for me, is part work out and part meditation. I guess I could say the same for hiking. Whether it’s deep breathing on the mat or walking alone in the mountains, it resets and relaxes me.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more anxious. (My previous anxiety level was zero so my new higher level is still low on the anxiety scale.) There’s many variables involved, but it’s probably due to my increasing age and therefore nervousness about getting my shit together, and/or the uncertainty and impermanence of my current work and lifestyle. Regardless of the reason, methods that bring calmness have become more valued. I use mala beads to have a tangible object to find calmness. Essentially, they’ve become a comfort blanket. Also, I’ve found saying mantras to myself are very effective. Whereas with the mala beads I think to myself “Are you really feeling comfort with these? That’s kinda silly,” with mantras there’s no question they make me feel better instantly. Negative thoughts that are eating at me are turned off the second I start internally saying my mantra of choice.

I’ve been learning about human emotions that I need to be more intentional about. Vulnerability and bravery, specifically. Why don’t we learn about this in school? Oh right, there wasn’t time after covering the pythagorean theorem. Priorities! I guess I knew I had to work on these things before, but now they have been defined and identified and makes working on them possible. Writing here on this public platform is great vulnerability practice for me.

I’ve written myself a reminder to go back and reference when I need to know what I’m doing is okay, it’s right for me, for right now, to not worry so much about the future, to accept and enjoy the here and now.

Try repeating a mantra to yourself next time you feel stuck in negative self-talk. These are some of my go-to’s, but I suggest you make them highly personalized for what you need in that moment.

Courage over comfort.

Give me the courage to show up and let myself be seen.

Be kind to yourself and be patient.

Where I am right now is exactly where I need to be.

Today is my bitch.

--------------------------------------------------

If you’re interested in learning about vulnerability and its importance in your life, watch Dr. Brené Brown’s TED Talk “The Power of Vulnerability” and read any and all of her books.