My truth about life on the road.

Life on the road has been a cycle of high highs and low lows. It’s been a total thrill — I’ve seen more in three months than some do their whole lives — and I am so grateful for the opportunity. But I am beginning to see that van life, in its current state of constant movement, is not working for me.

My life has been in flux over the past five years — just as I wanted it. I’ve moved across the country and the world. Explored new relationships. Mourned their ends. Dealt with anxiety and depression. Started a business. Began uncovering my artistic voice. And then moved into a van.

Like a dog sensing a storm on the horizon, my intuition's ears have perked and eyes have narrowed in knowing. She's telling me a change needs to be made, or I might soon be swept away.

Truth: My wings need a rest.

Inspired by Ariel Alasko

I need autumn. I need the harvest. I need winter. I need to burn things. I need human touch, and to put my hands in the dirt. I need to hug animals. I need to be far away from highways and tourists. I need real connection.

And especially, my art needs space to breathe and expand, which it doesn’t have when I’m always on the move over concrete.

I have a vision — a place in the forest, close to people I love. I think when you can see something so clearly in your mind's eye it must be true.

I am officially out asking, seeking.

Gratitude floods my heart. I’ve seen the desert, mountains, and sea, given long-awaited real-life hugs to Internet friends who are now real-life friends… but the summer of the soul is coming to an end, and I look to exchange this stimulating and unstable life on the road for the silence and simplicity of life on the land.

Still, there is this gnarly little voice that says you're selling out; you're failing. But I know..

There’s nothing to “fail” at here. It’s just living. [tweet]

The business woman in me clings to image and personal brand — I am the "solo woman on the road". But I know there is much more to me than an one-dimensional characterization.

I am the At Wild Woman, through and through. Her road is not a literal one, but a metaphor for exploring all lands — external and internal.

And more importantly, I am not a brand; I am a human. And I am allowed to change my mind. Anytime I want. (So are you.) This may lead us to be perceived as less marketable, successful, or easy to categorize, but it makes us alive and real. This makes us human.

Money & #vanlife: monthly expenses compared

During the past two months I have driven more than 5,000 miles through flat plains, over golden hills, around snow-capped Rockies, next to the white beaches of Oregon, and now to the cool, calm waters of the Washington islands.

All the while, I've wondered.. am I really saving money?

I didn't choose to live in a van TO save money, but it was absolutely a supposed benefit that came along with the lifestyle. I've been working full-time for myself for about a year and a half, and my income fluctuates quite often. The opportunity to live so abundantly (as I saw it) on relatively low expenses intrigued me.

But after all these miles, tanks of gas, and coffee shop stops to work.. I've wondered if I really am spending less. So, I decided to sit and break it all down. 

Here's the deal!
(Or is it really a deal? Find out!)

I've decided to only compare monthly expenses that have been affected by #vanlife. For instance, whether I live in a van or not, I would still spend the same on health insurance, a cell phone, car insurance, etc. So those expenses are not included in this round-up.

There are also miscellaneous expenses I have not included, like oil changes and van repairs (aside from the BIG initial engine repair), because there are similar expenses if I were to be living in a home, like an apartment deposit, appliance repairs or replacements, and car repairs. I have decided not to include these.

This isn't a comprehensive report, but a general overview and comparison of the two lifestyles as I would be living them.

Here's the breakdown:

RENT

Of course, the big difference is rent. Something else to consider regarding rent is location. For $550 I doubt I'd be able to afford a room or apartment in some of the places I've been staying — Seattle, Portland, Bend, and waterfront locations.

INTERNET, UTILITIES & COFFEE SHOPS

I don't have to pay for Internet or utilities on the road, but I spend much more at coffee shops and restaurants to access wifi. There is also the convenience factor to take into account — I do much more running around trying to find water, a shower, or electricity than I would if I lived in an apartment. And that accounts for somethin'.

GYM

Perhaps a weird difference to recognize, but I spend less on gyms while on the road because I do not belong to a climbing gym. I pay $20/month for a Planet Fitness membership (which I'm discontinuing this month because I will be in Canada) and the remaining I spend at random climbing gyms that give discounts during the week. If I lived in one place I would undoubtedly have a climbing gym membership, which would be at least $55/month.

GAS

Pretty self explanatory. Penny the Van gets decent gas mileage (~30 mpg), but I have been driving much more than I intend to now that I am on the west coast. So I anticipate that monthly expense to lower a good bit in the future.

FOOD & GROCERIES

Although it's not on the chart, I'd like to discuss food and groceries. I am spending about the same as I would if I lived in an apartment. Although I visit the grocery store often, I only buy a few items at a time because of limited space and lack of refrigeration.

In fact, I probably spend less on groceries because I waste much less food in the van. When you have a whole fridge to fill, it's easy to over-buy and then forget about a head of lettuce or stalk of celery until it's rotting in the bottom drawer.

That doesn't happen in the van. Your entire house will reek of rotting vegetable flesh and you will know.. immediately.

A few final thoughts...

After purchasing the van and doing necessary repairs to get it out on the road, I've been pleasantly surprised by the slight (not massive — I still have many business and other personal expenses) financial savings.

For anyone thinking about trying out #vanlife and expecting to save a ton of money and have little to no monthly expenses, I'd encourage you to look into the specifics and project what a real month would look like.

A few questions to ask yourself:

• How much do I want to drive every month? How much money would that equate to?
• How much is car insurance in my state?
• How much will the van and initial repairs cost, and do you have enough saved up for this?
• Can I feasibly run my business or make enough money while living on the road?
• Do I have enough savings for the inevitable repairs that will be needed?
• Is saving however much money each month worth the inevitable stress and inconvenience that comes with it?

Do you have any questions about monthly expenses living in the van that you'd like me to address? Feel free to ask whatever is on your mind in the comments below!

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Given the horrific events that have happened here in my country over the past few weeks (and years) I feel called to use this platform to say.. something — anything — before I continue on this amazing, fortunate, privileged path of living abundantly, in a rather carefree manner, sharing my thoughts and experiences with the world.

I am a white woman. I live in a van. I park and sleep on neighborhood streets. Sometimes I even open my curtains the next day and hang out for a while in front of a stranger's house while I boil water for coffee or read a book.

I can't help but wonder how this same ‪#‎vanlife‬ experience would be if I were black, especially when I wake up and see another report of another black person being killed in this country — today while in his own vehicle, with his seatbelt still on.

It feels awkward to share something like this because I know I have so much yet to learn, and I WILL make mistakes and say the wrong thing at some point, but I need to say something — anything. I feel an innate, deep, honest-to-God responsibility as a white person in this country to do so.

And you know what, this isn't even about me. It's about justice and freedom and equality and respect for all — black lives included. It's just about doing what's right.

I have so much yet to learn, but I want to make a public commitment to trying my best to not just understand, but use my voice and freedoms to help in any way I possibly can. Black lives matter. Peace.

Happiness, transparency, & the Internet.

Last week Gale Straub featured my artwork on She Explores’ Instagram (thanks, Gale!) and several people reached out to ask how I live this life — running my own business on the road — so “successfully”.

Ironically, on that day and that whole week, I was in the midst of an intense struggle with money, art, and my personal life. June brought a lull in business. Being in constant motion made it difficult to prioritize creativity. And traveling alone led to a soul-consuming loneliness.

I never want to dwell on negative emotions, both for the sanity of myself as well as others who might be reading, but I also want to share what’s real. I’ve been in the same position of seeing others building out beautiful vans, living on the road, making coffee in forests, experiencing new landscapes, and it all looked so.. unbelievably idyllic.

I would think, If I can just get there, then I’ll be happy, live on my own terms, and everything will be great.

The threat of unhappiness did not dissipate when I moved into the van, it merely shape-shifted. I have quickly learned that where ever you live, whatever job you may have, whoever you are spending time with or without, new reasons to stress will always surface.

Any life looks lovely when only the mountaintop moments are shared. And hey, we all love to talk about the good times, right? But I’m writing today to tell you that my life is not just as it appears. 

Instagram, blogs, Snapchat — everything — is not an accurate depiction of a whole life. It is just a sliver of reality. This isn't good or bad, it's just the way it is!

For me, for every glamorous moment that is shared, there are at least 10x unglamorous ones.

Like this one.

Colorado National Monument

Yeah, I got to paint at sunrise on top of the Colorado National Monument, and it was freaking spectacular. But what you didn’t see is… the night before I made a can of Chef Boyardee in a parking lot of a climbing gym under fluorescent lights, where I’d sleep. I laid sweating in bed until I fell asleep and wouldn’t open the windows because I was scared of possible intruders. I slept with a taser next to me. I’d been feeling lonely all day, sitting in the van with my head buried in my phone because I was yearning for any type of connection. I was dealing with feeling directionless, penniless, and creatively bankrupt. I’d been checking email all day waiting for some new client or interest in my artwork, and absolutely nothing happened.

All of those things happened, AND THEN I woke up at sunrise to paint on top of a mountain.

In the spirit of transparency, here are a few more less-than-perfect realizations I’ve come to after being on the road for two months by myself.

• It isn’t anything like you think it will be.
• There will be a lot of pavement (duh).
• There will be a lot of driving (duh).
• Traveling alone might not be as easy as you think.
• Every high and low will be exaggerated.
• You will be sitting. A lot.
• It can feel like you’re always rushing. Slow down and let it be.
• You will get tired of not being able to stand in your home.
• You will care about what people think. And then you won’t.
• Your routines and rituals were emerge naturally. Don’t force it.
• Forgive yourself for every offset screw, momentary loss of temper, and less than perfect anything — which will be everything.

I could go on, but I hope this gives you a sense of the real #vanlife I’m experiencing. If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the comments below or write amanda@amandasandlin.com.

Through it all, I am so thankful. This is truly an experience of a lifetime, and I am grateful for the support that helps make it a reality — all the folks who hire me, purchase my art, and share even one encouraging word (or emoji :o)). 

PS - I believe that if you are truly feeling called to live on the road, move abroad, move across town, or whatever, you should try it if you can. Go, go, go!

The first night in my van was... awkward.

Ah, beginnings. A fresh start. The big change you've been looking forward to for days, or years. Exciting stuff. I'm all about celebrating starting lines, but let's be real here. Rarely have I ever experienced a beginning without an accompanying phase of awkwardness.

It can be awkward when you're wandering around a new city, not sure where to rest your gaze, looking down at Google Maps and turning around in the middle of a crowded sidewalk because you were going the wrong way.

Or when you're moving into a new apartment, with foreign scents and sounds, figuring out the sticky lock, finding all the right switches and cables.

Or when you're starting a new job and have to ask your boss a question every 10 minutes.

Or maybe it's just me.

I absolutely loved the first night in my van, but it was SUPER awkward. 

I kept bumping my head, knocking things over, and misplacing every item just when I needed it. I clumsily tacked up curtains with magnets (which was a HUGE pain, lesson learned) and stumbled outside at midnight to pee with a new bottle of pepper spray in hand.

Change means things aren't where they "should" be. There's no system in place. You have no established routine. You're kind of reborn in a way, scrambling around like an infant in the dark.

You must know that the awkward phase will pass. You'll grow into your lanky arms and legs and develop new muscle memory and cat-like reflexes. You'll find a new morning routine that'll be the perfect way to start your days. You're gonna get your groove back.

In the middle of allllll the awkwardness, find one quiet moment to reaffirm you are on the right path. [tweet]

For me that quiet moment was lying down on the van floor with a lantern illuminating the wood-paneled walls I'd cut and installed with my mom. After weeks of intense labor and stress I laid there, still, proudly looking around at what we had created.

I listened to music against the backdrop of crickets and wispy Spanish moss hanging off giant old oaks. And then, a quiet sense of peace — this is where I am meant to be. This is home.

And then I knocked over a bag of chia seeds and they will probably be in the nooks and crannies of my van until the end of time.