Coming Soon


The majority of our time is being spent in the RV now, as we get moved in and accustomed to the space. I never expected to feel so fulfilled by so little. As I write,  rain is falling on the roof, and the cool weather is giving the first hint of fall. My baby boy is sleeping soundly in his “nursery,” which is tucked into the space that used to make up a set of bunk beds. My oldest is outside, splashing in puddles and having a nerf war with his friends. They’ve been at it for hours, despite the cold rain. I’m snuggled up on the couch with my husband, the dogs are asleep at our feet, and in this moment we are both wholeheartedly happy, for the first time in a while.

Upon our return to the house this morning, we were greeted by a “coming soon” sign posted at the bottom of the driveway. That sign suddenly made it very real. I felt like I should feel sad, but honestly all I could feel was impending relief. I will admit, I even shrieked a little. If you had told me three years ago what was happening, I would have told you that you were in fact, completely insane. I remember standing in my freshly completed living room, taking it all in. I told myself it was all I had ever wanted. The smell of sawdust still hung in the air, and the excitement was unmeasurable. I could imagine our future there, with my little boy growing up within the walls. We dreamed up nearly every aspect of the floor plan, and seeing it come to life was amazing. I’m not quite sure when it stopped feeling like home…

I dreaded being there. It was a huge burden, both financial and physical. I just couldn’t help but feel sad. Sad that I was growing resentful of the home we built, sad that we were stuck, sad that I wasn’t where I wanted to be in life, and angry at myself for all of the sadness.

Let me take a second to note that when I decided to share our story with all of you, I promised myself that I would share all of it. The ups, AND downs. I don’t want this to be another snapshot of a life shown to you through rose colored glasses. It will be honest, it will be real, and it will be hard for me to put out there at times. But I will.  And at this point, it was ugly. I felt as if my entire world was falling apart, and I couldn’t find the energy or patience to tackle motherhood. I tried so hard to hold it together, but I was in tears more often than not, and angry at everyone and everything. I was able to put on a good face, but behind the scenes, I was crumbling. Eventually, I admitted defeat and turned to therapy and medication. Suddenly, it was like I emerged from an all-consuming fog. I cannot express how important it is to pay attention to your mental health, first and foremost. If YOU are not okay, you cannot take care of those around you. 

Once I could take a breath and sort out the emotions and thoughts spinning in my head, it became evident that change was necessary. As I’ve told you before (if you have been following along thus far), once we set an intention to change, the world may as well have tilted on it’s axis. Everything began to fall into place. It was not easy. In fact, it was UGLY at times. But there was hope, and a promise to ourselves and each other that we would find a way out of a situation which had become unhealthy. 

I am not naive enough to think the changes we are making won’t come with their own set of challenges. I know we may want to kill each other every once in a while (how could we not? We’re essentially moving into a shoebox on wheels). I’m sure the doubt and tears may come. When that house sells, I will probably cry big fat ugly tears. When we’re in the middle of nowhere with everything going wrong, I will probably have loads of doubts. Happiness doesn’t mean we have to find joy in every moment, but hopefully we will be able to find many, many moments of joy. Like right now, for instance. Many hours have passed since I started this. Because, well…kids. (You didn’t think I could actually sit down and write unbothered, did you?) It’s dark out, the rain is still pitter pattering, and I am nestled into my 300 square feet. The kids are in bed, my tiny home is quiet, and in this moment my heart is so, so full. 


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