Betty and Dennis

On day of 2 of my trip I got stuck in another snow storm while attempting to head out to the coast.  I had driven from Redding, CA and had gotten to a little town of Weaverville before the snow became so heavy that the pass continuing to the coast, and also back to Redding, had been closed to any vehicles without chains. I was stuck. Since it was only 10 am, and I didn’t feel like letting my car run all day so I could stay warm, I decided to stay at little quaint motel nearby. The motel was run by a 77 year old woman named Patty that prided herself on being a staunch manager for over 20 years…..”to keep the meth-heads out.” We chatted for a while because she had fallen the day before and was now using a walker to get around because her hip was so painful. Being the therapist I am, and my love for the geriatric population, I had to ask all the necessary questions to make sure she was ok. I wanted to stay and chat with her for a while longer because she looked like a woman who had quite a story to tell about her life. But since I was a stranger, and wanted to respect her privacy, I restrained myself.

After a nice relaxing day at the motel, the next morning I decided to head back to Redding instead of continue on to the coast since mudslides had been reported on highway 1. As I approached Redding, the rain had let up. Yay!  It was still a chilly 45 degree overcast day, but I decided to visit the Sundial Bridge, an iconic city landmark.  It is a unique and cool bridge with a beautiful view of the snow capped mountains. It felt so good just to move and walk around after being cooped up driving or in motel rooms. I enjoyed walking the paved mile loop on the other side of the bridge at a leisurely pace, just taking in the scenery and letting my mind wander.

As I finished walking the loop and was approaching the bridge, I noticed a couple a little ways off. The woman was in a wheelchair, wearing a pink snow hat, a blanket on her lap and smoking a cigarette. The man was standing beside her, bearded, curly hair peeking out from under his snow cap, shorter than average, and wearing a long black trench coat. I felt uncomfortable. Why did this scene make me feel so uncomfortable? I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it because I had been working in a mental health facility the past year where a good number of my patients resembled this couple and were also drug addicts and homeless? I don’t know. But in a brief moment, and from a distant observation, I had made an assumption about these people.

As I passed them, the lady called out to me, “Hey, why’d they build this bridge?” still looking out over the bridge with her back against me

I stopped, “Are you asking ME?’

“Yeah, I’m asking you!” she responded in a raspy voice followed by a breathy chuckle.

As I came around to face her, I saw it was an elderly woman with a big grin. Her warmth and smile automatically softened my heart and my assumptions and judgement immediately embarrassed me.

“Hmmm, I think they built it just for you to see this view” I smiled back.

She rolled her eyes and half-laughed.  The man standing next to her also laughed.

I continued, “I’m not from here so I don’t know the history of it all.  I assume they built it because they want to attract more tourists and just get people outside and into nature more.”

The man spoke, “We’re not from here either. We’re from Alabama. Where are you from?”

And so started a very pleasant 20 min conversation. I came to find out that the couple were mother and son. Betty and Dennis. Betty recently had a stroke, 4 months ago. She’d been through rehab and then had been living at home alone in Alabama, with a lot of difficulty.  According to her, she was managing fine at home but her family felt otherwise. Betty felt her family forced her to move out to California so they could keep an eye on her.  But you could also tell she knew she needed the help and it caused her sorrow.  I shared that I was a therapist as well worked with patients just like her. Because my “therapist” self is always turned on, I started asking all sorts of recovery and caregiving questions. She showed me how she could now move her right foot now and could walk very slowly and awkwardly with the help of a cane (her son shaking his head in the background, as if to communicate that he felt otherwise).  I then noticed her right edemous hand limply lying beside her lap with the palm turned up at an unnatural angle. Betty reported, almost becoming tearful, that she never regained the use of her right arm or hand. She was discouraged. As I tell all my patients, I would never wish a stroke on anyone.  It’s a cruel disembodiment. Your body is still there, but it is like a foreign object and you no longer have control over it.  A person must go through a grieving process for this body that no longer exists. To grieve for a hand that can no longer automatically reach for the coffee cup, or comb hair or put a button a shirt.  We talked for a while about all this, with the son mentioning his own struggles with managing being a caregiver.   

I felt my own grief for making such a horrible assumption about these sweet people from Alabama. Assumptions about a man in a black trench coach, who was really a caregiver and taking his mother on a nice little outing so that she could just get out of the house.  Feeling total embarrassment and shame for assumptions I had made about this woman in a wheelchair smoking a cigarette, who turned out to be a lovely elderly woman, with a great sense of humor, grieving for her loss of function and now broken body. A woman whose face had sculpted lines of both joy and sadness from all she has had to endure in this life. 

Near the end of our conversation Betty told me she was 73 years old and had survived 8 different cancers, including brain cancer.  How was this woman still alive? 

With a little sarcasm I asked, “So who did you piss off to have all this happen to you?” 

Betty let out a boisterous laugh and replied “I sure don’t know, but I’ve been through it all.” 

Then I added “Maybe you’re just one of the strong ones that can handle anything so God just keeps giving you more because you keep handling it so well.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m still alive” spoken with voice of someone who had conquered so much but also the voice of a person whose body was now failing her.

We chatted a little longer about Alabama and you could tell Betty and Dennis loved their state. They related how nice and hospitable everyone was, how beautiful the countryside was with the rolling hills and landscape of trees and greenery.  Well, Betty and Dennis, thanks for sharing your good nature, your story and your humor. I’ll be sure to take a visit down there to Alabama to check out your beloved state.  And I’m sorry I judged. Please forgive me.

First Night on The Road

FIRST NIGHT ON THE ROAD

When you search on Google, Pintrest or InstaGram the hashtag of #VanLife, up pops images of people in RVs, camper vans, converted cars and SUVs, all posing with enthusiasm with their new home, generally in a beautifully scenic setting. YouTube videos show how incredibly easy it is to whip out your power tools and magically obtain carpentry skills to construct a slick interior design to convert your vehicle into a camper. Interviews with these Van-Lifers reveal how much freedom one has exploring the road with ease and freedom at low cost. Ah, #VanLife!!

So…..Let me tell you a story about my reality with #VanLife. 

I decided I needed to take some time off to recover from the “growing experiences” of 2018 and I started to explore ways I could take an extended amount of time off to travel on my limited budget.  I went to RV shows to see if I could afford a camper trailer, too expensive, even for the tiny, ultralight weight campers. I looked at actually camping around in my tent, but I did that for a week once and it seemed like it’d be a headache in the long run. Then I came across those people who had converted their cars or SUVs into a camper. Some were pretty fancy but some were pretty basic and simple. Hmm, this could work. I felt I could construct something simple for super cheap. I wouldn’t have to deal with setting up a tent or pulling a trailer and I could sleep anywhere in my car.  Cool! The decision was made. Before I started, I got a twin size mattress and slid it in the back of my SUV just to see if it would fit.  It did, and a perfect fit actually!!  I had never constructed anything before and had never used power tools, except for an electric screw driver.  But you can find everything on YouTube, right? Thank goodness I hadn’t cleared out or donated my dad’s tools yet. I watched a lot of tutorials on how to use the tools and how to put stuff together. I had removed the back seats from my SUV and constructed a platform. There was a lot of trial and error. A lot of trips to Home Depot and Lowes. I was surprised, and frustrated, at how long it took to construct something that seemed so simple in my little design. Finally I finished and I was very pleased that I did it all by myself. I had enough room for storage underneath the platform and enough room on top to move around comfortably. 

The next step was deciding what I needed to take with me and what would go in storage.  Let me tell ya, if you haven’t used something for a long time, you’re not going to start magically using it on the road or a trip, as I have found out.  For instance, I have yet to use my yoga mat and bits of work-out stuff I brought along (partly because it has rained almost every day of my trip). Too many clothes, too many washcloths, too many books, too much kitchen stuff. Eventually I’ll consolidate it all once I’m in a consistently warm climate.  

My car was packed up, organized and ready to go. The morning I planned to leave I went to go start my car, all I got was a click click click and the electrical system wigging out. Seriously? What the hell? Ugh!!  At first I thought it was an electrical issues, but my sister-in-law suggested it might be the battery.  It had been cold in Utah and my battery had died.  We attempted to jump it (Thanks for another tutorial YouTube!} but It wouldn’t start.  So, I went and purchased another battery and installed it myself. My car started!! Yay!

I decided to not have any definite plans for my road trip. Sometimes letting the road guide you and not having a fixed or ridged plan can open the door for unexpected adventures. Plus, planning stresses me out. I can do it, it’s just not my favorite thing to do. I did have a rough outline of a travel plan in place. I was going to start in California and explore some places that I might be interested in living, as well as visit some national and state parks.  Well, the forecast said rain for 2 weeks. I was hoping the rain would at least let up a little here and there so I could explore. I would soon find out that rain meant rain.

Because of my late start, I decided I’d only drive for a few hours and spend the night in Elko, NV.  My weather app said it’d be about 15 degrees that night. I had a sleeping bag, several blankets and my mattress was made of foam. In addition, I had insulation for my windows to help keep the heat in and also provide privacy.  I was hoping that was enough.

Driving is therapeutic for me. I relax and just let my mind wander and the drive out to Elko was nice. No traffic and an absolutely beautiful glowing orange sunset.  I took it as a good sign and stopped to watch it for a bit. It was dark when I arrived in Elko. I stopped off to get gas and use the restroom and then drove around a bit, trying to decide where I could safely park my car and have a quiet night. I found a 24 hour Casino next to a hotel. No one would question why my car would be parked there all night and I’d be left alone. So I parked, I put the insulation up in the windows, pulled the curtains shut behind the front seat and opened the passenger seat to climb into the back of my car to sleep. Hmmmm, how was I going to get in? When I constructed the platform in my car and tested it for enough space to move around, it was without a mattress. I had purchased an 8 inch foam mattress and I had a sleeping bag and several blankets.  I now had 1 ft 10in to get in and move around.  So stupid!  Why hadn’t I actually considered this? Well, I didn’t really have a choice but to try it out. It doesn’t help that I’m 5’9 and “big boned.”  So I put a hand on each side of the door opening, a foot up on the step and launched myself into the car, my legs still hanging out, my shoes still on. There was not enough space to kneel or sit so I very awkwardly pulled myself into a fetal position so that I could reach to untie my shoes and then attempted a sideways 90 degree turn so that I could be facing the right direction to straighten out. So there I was, finally lying flat on my back and shaking my head that I hadn’t thought things out more thoroughly. Then the next thought that ran through my mind was “oh crap, I still need to get in my pajamas” followed by a groan and realizing my pajamas were in drawers under the platform and I’d have to get out of the car to access them.  Mind you, its 15 degrees outside!! I curled my body back up and completed another 90 degree turn in a half sitting hunched-over position to get closer to the door. I managed to reach for the door handle and open it up.  I wish I had a video to show me getting out of my car. I was a sight to see. It looked as if my car was giving birth to me. My awkward large size in a tiny space. Imagine a 5’9, 220 lb inflexible woman with frizzy red hair trying to get out of a 1'10" space from a sitting hunched-over position.  Seriously, I challenge you to try this at home! First came a leg, then an arm to support me, then half my butt, then another leg, the other half of my butt and  finally another arm, and head. My car just gave birth to a breech baby, kind of.  Ugh, this sucks!  I got my pajamas, launched myself back into my car, managed to get straightened out and then laid there trying to figure out how to I was going actually get into my pajamas.  I couldn’t sit up. I couldn’t kneel in a full position. My only options were lying flat and trying bridge my hips and back to loosen my clothing, rolling to my side, or getting onto my knees in a bowing position. I assumed all three of those positions to get undressed and then dressed.  What a headache!!  No one ever demonstrated this shit in the Youtube videos!! I was tired and soon fell asleep. 

I actually stayed quite warm though the night, surprisingly enough.  Around 2:30 in the morning I woke up and had to pee.  I looked at the weather app on my phone.  It was 10 degrees outside. Condensation had collected on the inside of my car and my head was getting cold.  I put on my winter hat and then pulled out my female urinal.  Yes, I bought one for just these circumstances (someone did actually recommend this in a blog. Very helpful).  I did try it out before my road trip and it worked wonderfully…..in a sitting position, with lots of leg room. I had not tried it out in a less than 2ft space. Since I couldn’t squat, or sit, or fully kneel, the only position I could manage was the kneeling bow.  I guess all those years of assuming the kneeling bow position (for comfort reasons) while listening to my dad’s endlessly long family prayers finally paid off. So with one hand trying to manage positioning and holding the pee bag, the other arm was out in front supporting me.  I was so tense and so cold that I couldn’t pee. Ugh!  Puppy dogs, unicorns, sunsets, freedom, road trip……finally relaxed enough to go. Relief!! I put the lid on the urinal and set it aside to empty in the morning, climbed back in my bed and slept on/off until about 6:30. I was ready to get up, get warm and have a cup of coffee. My car then awkwardly gave birth to me a second time. Still a breech baby, but it works.

Slushy ice water from 10 degree night in Elko

I quickly got into the front seat, started the car and turned the heat all the way up.  I plugged in my portable water heater to my cars 12V port to heat water for some coffee.  After enjoying a nice warm drink I needed to get dressed, brush my teeth, wash my face…..but it was 10 degrees outside and I really did not want to go through changing my clothes in the back of my car again. I decided I wait until later, when I could go to a rest stop. So that’s what I did, when it finally warmed up to 20 degrees. I don’t like cold weather.

My plan was to head to Redding, CA.  I started driving up through the overwhelmingly beautiful Tahoe National forest. I was raining, then the rained turned to light snowfall. No big deal. As the elevation climbed, the light snow fall turned into a blizzard and the roads became icy. I had my AWD on and my “snow traction” option turned on. But I could still feel my car slide. I wanted to pull off but there were no exits and pulling on the shoulder is a bad idea as anyone can slide off and hit you. I grew up driving in snow and feel I am a safe driver in this kind of weather. There are certain ways to break, to maneuver your car when you slide, and to remember to keep a big gap between you and the car in front of you just in case you do lose control of the car. But these other drivers on the road either had no knowledge of these driving rules or were too impatient.  Cars were tailgating each other and then slamming on their brakes when they got too close, causing the car to slide off the road.  At one point, the traffic had completely stopped because a semi-truck had slid sideways and was blocking the road. So there everyone sat in their cars, for about 40 min, until the truck to be moved off to the side of the road. It took another hour of slowly driving to get off the mountain.

I eventually made it up to Redding, via Sacramento, and it was a downpour of rain, strong gusts of winds. I attempted to explore the Sacramento River, but the weather was miserable. I sat in my car a while and tried to devise a new plan, but the weather forecast held no relief for me. I was just in no mood to sleep in my car that night.  I was tired. I wanted comfort. I slept in a hotel that night. A conversation started in my head “Good job Natalie! You made it one whole night sleeping in your car and now resorting to a hotel room because of rain. Where’s your grit girl?!”  I responded to myself with “Well, it’s not like I’m broke. I’m homeless by choice. I’ve got a few extra bucks. I deserve a little comfort.”  I responded back “Ok, well let’s see how long you can survive on the road over the next few weeks” daring myself to be a more hard core #Vanlifer.

My first 24 hours weren’t terribly exciting in terms of travel, but figuring out how to live in my car was a bigger adventure than I thought and a bit of an unexpected learning curve.  But I’m up for a challenge.

Goodbye 2018 and Exploring The Road Home

So I quit my job and I’m living out of my car. Yes, you read that correctly.  The year 2018 is up there with one of the hardest of my life. It opened up every old wound and challenged every part of me.  At one point I wasn’t sure I’d make it out alive.

In November of 2017 I gave up my comfortable life and well-paying job in San Antonio to move back to Utah to help care for my father and my brother Ian. Over the past several years, my siblings and I noticed my dad’s cognition declining.  As siblings, we discussed what supports could be put in place to help him and who would be willing to help out with my dad and Ian. My mom died 20 years ago from cancer. My dad, and us siblings still at home, assumed the responsibility of caring for my brother Ian, who was born with Spina Bifida and was paraplegic since birth. After us kids all left home to go to college, my dad was left with the sole responsibility of caring for Ian alone.  He declined help from any home health agencies, state agencies and rarely accepted respite care from family.  Between trying to hold down a full time job and being a single parent caregiver for my brother, with all the endless mountains of paperwork that comes along with it, the burden had caught up with my dad.

When I was younger I remember visiting my dad’s office and seeing all of the local and national awards he had won over the years for his writing. He had been a technical writer for his company and was good at it. My dad was an intelligent man. I always refused to play Trivial Pursuit with him because he was a wealth of knowledge and there was no way I could ever win. I remember him always bringing home word games, anecdotal stories and sharing information he read in the encyclopedia when he couldn’t sleep. I remember when he was downgraded from a big front office at work with floor to ceiling windows, to a small little office tucked back away in the building from his colleagues.  He wanted to work until he was 67 or 68, but retired at 65 because he just couldn’t do his job anymore. His mind wasn’t as sharp and his energy was lagging.  Over the years his memory slowly started to fade.  He also started to experience difficulty with staying organized, with problem solving, following simple directions as well as becoming paranoid and suspicious. He had lost a significant amount of weight over the years and he looked 10 years older than his age. My dad was just tired.

When it came to discussing care-giving needs for my dad, all I knew it that it wouldn’t be me. I refused. My dad has always been a very religious and ridged man. I had become estranged from my father several years ago after he had said and done some things that I felt were unforgivable regarding my sexuality. After that encounter I moved to Texas to create some space and I didn’t talk to him for 2 years. After some time and distance, my heart softened enough to make small talk with him, but I knew our relationship would never be anything more than small talk. I had to go through a grieving process knowing I would never have a father that wanted to be a part of my life, and actually disapproved of my life.

Then in Sept of 2017, I had planned a 10 day trip with 5 days in Utah and 5 days in the Tetons with friends. The day I arrived in Utah, a traumatic event happened with my dad that showed how poorly my dad was doing and how much his mental state had declined. The morning after the incident I was sitting on the front porch, pondering and processing the events from the night before. My dad wandered out to the front porch and sat down on the steps. We were both quiet for a while until he commented on how beautiful the morning was.

“Dad, we need to talk. You need some help. Last night was scary. I don’t know if you remember everything, but it really scared me.”

My dad sat dad on the steps of the porch and he hung he head down. “I know. My memory is shot. I don’t remember things that I know I should. My mind isn’t like it used to be. It’s really discouraging.”

Then words came out of my mouth, words that were not my own, “Dad, I’m moving home to take care of you and Ian.  It’s not a choice on your part and you don’t have a say in it.  I just needs to happen.” I knew if my dad was given a choice, he would refuse help, as always, and want to dig his heels in to prove he was still capable of caring for himself and my brother.

My dad nodded in agreement, his face wrinkled up in sorrow having to admit he needed help. He got up and went back into the house.

The aftermath of what I had just committed to hit me, hard. “What the hell did I just say??!!” I bent over and put my head in my lap, rocking back and forth and the tears just came.  “Oh dear god, No, not me! I can’t do this, I can’t do this. Don’t let it be me. Oh dear god, I can’t take care of this man.”  After some time I stopped crying and I just sat there on the porch, numb and dazed from the crying.  I wanted to reverse time and make it all go away. 

I was a mess.  The next 7 weeks were just one giant panic attack. I was terminating my life in San Antonio and trying to get things organized for my move to Utah.  And my poor dear friends who had to deal with my crying and the endless verbal processing, God bless them. They attempted to offer support, give advice about building a support system, accessing community resources and that maybe it won’t be as bad as I was making it out in my head. But I couldn’t be consoled. My mind was stuck on all my past traumas with my dad and knowing how my dad can be on a day to day basis. I had serious anxiety and fear.

The first couple of months were just extremely busy. My Dad underwent surgery to correct a swallowing problem, but the anesthesia took about a week to wear off and left my dad even more confused, and extremely weak.  I was afraid to leave him alone during the day but I had to work.  He had refused any help from church members, neighbors or home health services. When a home health nurse came by to do an evaluation on his post-surgical needs, my dad became very irritable, suspicious, refused to answer any questions and kicked her out of the house. On the way out, the nurse gave me a look of sympathy and said “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”  “Yeah, me too” and I let out a heavy sigh. 

With all the care and supervision that my dad and brother required, I was unable to work full time and accepted a part time job and then another job working weekends. Thankfully I was blessed with an amazing boss. She allowed me to set my own schedule and was very understanding of my situation as well as becoming my emotional support system. Trying to work, take care of my dad and Ian, figuring out a routine and managing their medical issues was overwhelming.  My life was no longer about me. Life felt heavy; A painful, emotional burden.  I felt so alone.  I felt I had no one to talk to.  A few people were keen to give advice, but there was no one to provide respite care. No one to give me a hug or offer comfort.

My dad was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in January of 2018, at the age of 72. From March to June 2018 my dad had a steep decline.  He would often forget to eat and lost 15lbs off his already thin body. The verbal and emotional abuse, combined with increasing confusion and safety issues magnified my burden and I had multiple breakdowns. My dad would get upset if I had to point out yet another safety issue and he would take his frustration out on me.  I was always the bad guy. There was a dark weekend in March where for 2 full days I laid in bed and contemplated suicide. I felt I was sitting at the bottom of a muddy well, slowly sinking down and no way of getting out. Every nuanced cry for help, with no response, felt like a lid was slowly being closed over me. My burden felt so dark and heavy that I felt I had no other options. I just couldn’t keep doing this. Ending my life felt like a relief. No more pain. I knew exactly how I’d do it. But what about Ian? Who’d take care of him? And the burden on my other brother, Graham, with his young family, would be so heavy and he is already taking on so much. And what would Ian think? He would think it was his fault that I took my life.  That weekend finally ended, after a lot of crying and prayers. I managed to pull myself up and out of bed each morning after that, but it was usually accompanied by tears.  Thank goodness Ian was a ray of sunshine. He always gave me a hug, a big smile and joke to start each morning.   

My dad was feeling ill one day in June. I had taken his car keys away several weeks earlier (talk about drama!!) and he had to pass a driving test that morning if he wanted to get his keys back. He had so much anxiety that he felt nauseated and very weak. I convinced him to go to the hospital. I then communicated to the doctor and social worker how unsafe my dad was living at home and could no longer live on his own.  Against my dad’s wishes, he was discharged to an assisted living facility. While in the hospital, my dad was prescribed a medication that could possibly help slow his memory loss. It was also a mood stabilizer. After just one week on the pill, my dad became a different man.  He was happy, social, started sharing stories from his past. He was nice. Who was this man?  My dad has always been fiercely private and definitely not social.  To see him initiate gathering up a group of people to watch a football game, to see him sitting around a table doing a puzzle with other residents, to hear him talk about how he sits at a different table each meal time so that he can get to know everyone and make sure no one feels left out…..was an unexpected surprise because this was not the father I grew up with.  He gained back the 15lbs he had lost earlier in the year and his ability to speak more fluently actually improved the more social he became. It’s crazy to think what one little pill, combined with a positive environment, can do for someone in my dad’s condition.  I am grateful he’s had a good transition into this next stage of life.

At about the same time my dad transitioned into assisted living, my brother Ian became very ill with pneumonia. He was hospitalized for 5 days and then sent to a care facility to continue with his recovery.  With both my dad and brother in facilities, I finally had a little room to breathe. I still was very busy helping with their transitions and making sure they didn’t feel forgotten about, but the majority of the caregiving load had been transferred off my shoulders. I was able to pick up more hours at work so that I wasn’t living paycheck-to-paycheck anymore. I also started to clean out my dad’s house. He had started to become a hoarder and I think he kept every piece of paper he ever received.  I ended up shredding 385lb of files, taking 8 truckloads of junk to the landfill, 8 truckloads of stuff donated to DI, 2 truckloads of furniture and appliances donated to Habitat for Humanity, over 1,500lbs of food donated to the local food pantry (he got a little over-zealous with his food storage), overall totaling around 100 hours working to get it all done. Whew!

My amazing brother Graham and his wife agreed to care for Ian full time and actually built a wheelchair accessible house to accommodate Ian. Ian is now living with them and adjusting to a new environment. Graham and his wife have made incredible sacrifices and are also slowly adjusting to being caregivers. My heart goes out to them, understanding all that being a caregiver means. It is a heavy burden and I hope I can be the support to them that they need.

The Universe has a way of making us face our fears. My experience felt like a bird flying head-on into a glass window and then wondering where the window came from. Our fears are always there and sometimes we choose not to see them.  We get so habituated with avoiding them, stuffing them back down so that we don’t have to confront them or blaming someone else for why those fears even exist in the first place…. that those fears continue own us, to define us and how we behave. This year forced me to confront every painful memory and experience from my past with just about every family member, including my father and even my mother. I can choose to feel victimized, resentful, angry and sad. But that is such a heavy burden to carry. I know darkness and I’m tired of it. I’m emotionally exhausted. It’s such a sad, lonely, and isolating place to be. I’m choosing the hard work of facing those fears, one deep breathe at a time.

As 2018 has wrapped up, I’ve had a few spiritual experiences that have started the process of healing. My heart has softened. I have a lot to think about. A lot I want to change. Although Utah is where I grew up, it just doesn’t feel like home or a place I belong anymore. Quitting my job and converting my SUV into a living space is a means to an end. I want to explore different places and find where I belong. I want to find a home. I want to reconcile my past, find some healing and create a beautiful future. I want to connect more with people. I want to feel confident again. I want to feel ambitious again. I want my humor back.  I want ME back.   Here’s to a new journey and new beginnings!!