My mom’s advice on playing big.

When I first started scoping out places to live this winter, a friend introduced me to someone in Denver looking for a housemate. I met him and visited the house one sunny afternoon. It was cute, surrounded by trees, and in an awesome spot with a garage out back for doing art. I knew it was right.

It was also at the top of my budget, and this was before I adopted my pup, Dewey. I started questioning if I could swing it — living there, working for myself, having a dog, and still traveling a bit.

Instead of going with my gut and effortlessly easing into the decision, a war waged inside between my intuition and worry/scarcity mindset. I kept checking Craigslist every 30 minutes. Having mini meltdowns. Wasting so much time (and energy) going back and forth on the decision.

One evening I drove to the mountains for a sunset hike.

With every step I kept asking, "What should I do?"

I reached the top of the trail, sat down on a rock, and looked out at the sun sinking into a forest of evergreens. I heard my mom's voice, "Trust yourself." And I remembered a similar situation I was in almost seven months ago.

April 6, 2016

I recently moved back from New Zealand with sights set on vanlife. My mom and I went to look at a '97 Toyota Previa I found on Craigslist. I immediately fell in love with this awkward little bubble-shaped van that looked ready to launch into space. It was at the top of my budget (sound familiar?), and after registration, insurance, tags, etc. I was wondering if I could afford it.

As the worry crept in, I shut the dream down almost immediately. “I can't do this. I don't know what I'm thinking, living in a van. This is too much."

That's when my mom took my hands in hers, looked at me with a slight smile and an eye sparkle of determination that I so love her for, and said:

“Amanda. Trust yourself. You CAN do this. You’ll make it work!” 

I'll never forget that feeling. Tears rose in my eyes when I saw the complete trust she had in me. Seeing her believe made me believe, too.

Seconds later I walked into the car salesman's office and decided yes. I am going to make this work. In rushed the excitement, the vision, the dream I'd long held, and out washed all anxiety and indecisiveness.

The day I got Penny and it all began!

Flash forward almost seven months, sitting on the top of that mountain, I remembered that one statement — that vote of confidence and look in my mom's eye.

"Trust yourself."

And suddenly it became clear once again. I will rent this place in Denver. I will adopt a dog. I will keep making my art. I can do this.

You can have it. Trust yourself. Trust your vision.

I trusted last time and had one of the most influential experiences of my life. I'm so glad I chose to go all in and will never regret it.

At least give yourself a chance.

If you have the option to go big or play small, I hope you go all in. I hope you choose to toss aside the empty worry and indecisiveness robbing you of the abundant, wonderful life that can be yours.

Listen to your gut, and if it's saying "YES! THIS IS IT! GO BIG! RISK IT ALL!" Trust it. Lean into it. I've found it often will speak ONCE loud and clear. After that, it's up to you.

It's up to you, my dear, to listen, to trust, to go all in.

She chooses to be here.

It's midnight and am sitting on an air mattress with my new pup, Dewey, asleep by my side. After six months of driving, analyzing, planning, reanalyzing, and Craigslist-ing.. I'm finally sliding under a big down comforter in a house with a deep sigh of relief. You can stop running. You can rest.

This didn't happen effortlessly, although it could have (more on that another time). And even now I still have hesitations.

Does staying in one place make me less interesting? Will I lose all the inspiration I found on the road? What if I go stir crazy after a week?

These are some questions I've had for the #atwildwoman over the past month. Here are her answers.
 

ON BEING 'INTERESTING'
This is not something you can control, and you know it doesn't matter what people think of you. Trust your intuition to show what you really need.

Of course, we are humans — beautifully flawed beings — and sometimes we fear not being liked, or loved, or seen. But your intuition will never lead you astray. And your joy is worth so much more than any success or likability or pseudo Internet fame.

Pay attention. Answer the call. This is your life. Your decisions. Your happiness. And as far as business goes, your real people will stick around.

ON LOSING INSPIRATION
Everything is a miracle. You don't need to travel across the world to stand in awe. It's often the little things — tiny moments — that can spark big ideas.

There is a season for everything. A season to go, a season to stay. A season to burn it all down, a season to root and rise from the ashes. By following the flow and answering YES to your gut hunches, you cannot turn up empty handed, ever.

You know where you've been. Often when you choose a new direction and step into the darkness, you will come up to the light holding more treasures than you even knew existed.

ON GETTING BORED
You are not a rock. You are alive. You have talents. You have a mind. You have options. There is a way through everything. Believe it's all possible. You CAN live in a way that encompasses all of your passions and interests and joys. It will take creativity, patience, and resiliency, but you can and will find a way.

Hopes, dreams, and fear.
 

I have so many hopes for the next six months in Denver.

Buying giant canvases and filling them with paint and drawings. Falling even more in love with my pup and hearing his precious breathing every night. Adorning my room with plants and lights and maybe even a fake fireplace (this is happening). Hitting the mountains as much as I can, feeling my legs get strong and mind empty. Cozying up in bed to drink coffee on Sunday mornings and read the news.

It might be totally romantic. An idyllic dream. But I choose this. I want to have high hopes. I want to get excited about the future. I want to have a vision that draws me forward.

I shared with you a few weeks ago that I've been dealing with depression. I started seeing a therapist, and the other day she asked me... Do you think you're afraid to stay in Denver because it might not be everything you're expecting?

I thought, well yeah, duh. But then I realized it could be everything I'm hoping. I don't want to live in the reality of life being hard, of constant compromise and let-down dreams.

So I am signing off from vanlife for now (although I do have a late-fall Yellowstone idea in the works) and I may be returning to the same down comforter every night, but I will never stop exploring.

The #atwildwoman isn't necessarily a globe-trotter with no strings attached. She is rooted, at ease, in peace, and sometimes chooses not to go even though she could.

She could be anywhere, but for now, she chooses to be here.

I don't have it all figured out. Actually, I'm dealing with depression.

I was supposed to launch the #atwildwoman fall collection today. I haven't even made one piece for it.

The editorial schedule says I'm supposed to publish a blog post this week on "going BIG". I can't write it.

My Instagram followers have grown a lot recently after Tiny House, Tiny Footprint ran my interview. Little did everyone know, the day it was published I was crying and couldn't get off the sofa. 

I'm not embarrassed to say this, but I'm hesitant. I'm worried you'll think I'm whining. I'm worried you'll leave. I know the truth under it all isn't about numbers or success, but the need for love. To be loved. Because when people unfollow or unfriend, it feels personal, like they are un-loving you. But that's just not true.

So if it's is too much, if you don't want to read about this, if you have something negative to say.. you're welcome to go.

If you're still here, I want to tell you. Because every time I receive a comment like "You are everything I want to be" or "What a perfect life" or "You seem to have it all figured out", first, I am so flattered. And then I want to say "Noooo! Don't be fooled. Not everything is as it seems."

Truth: I've been dealing with depression and anxiety.

(You won't believe how many times I tried to rewrite that statement.)

I have been dealing with these symptoms, off and on, for the past five years. It comes and goes in waves. Certain situations exacerbate it.

Like, say, living in a van by myself for five months.

This week I woke up in Boulder, Colorado in the middle of a month-long house sit when the weight of intense, built-up emotions from the trip came crashing down.

It felt like the universe saw me standing still for a hot second and was like, "Here ya go, here's all this crap! Good luck."

Today I feel like I am sitting at the bottom of a very big, steep mountain, and I don't want to climb it. I don't even want to put on shoes. I want to go back to bed and never have to make another decision again.

It isn't all dark, though. I smile every time I take my new pup, Dewey, for a walk or watch him awkwardly leap onto the sofa. I laugh at Internet memes and in conversations with funny friends. But when all of the external stimulation ceases, and it's just me, I feel paralyzed.

I find myself wishing I could be one of those girls who has big, exciting plans and "everything figured out". But I'm not.

And honestly, I don't think anyone is always that girl.

We all have our moments. Clarity and confusion. Thrill and dread. I'm sure many of us have struggled with some form of depression or anxiety at some point.

For me, the struggle comes when I am not in my body, and consequently, not in the present moment. When I stop taking care of myself and get too much in my head, it only goes downhill.

I'm not sharing this because I want sympathy. No. I want you to know that if you're struggling, you're not alone. I've said it probably a thousand times, and I'll say it again — nothing is just as it seems.

Suicide rates in the U.S. are increasing across the board. Disturbingly, in girls ages 10-14, it's tripled. I have to suspect this has something to do with social media (along with media in general) — its omnipresence and pressure to be perfect, positive, cool, collected.

I don't know the answer, but I want us all to be happy, healthy, and honest. I want to create a space where we can be real with each other. Knowing I'm not alone has been one of my greatest reliefs.

There is nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with you. Just like we take care of our bodies, we also need to take care of our minds. What does this look like to you? Therapy? Meditating? Sharing with a friend? Exercise? Seeking further professional help?

Okay, let's start there.

This is definitely not the last you'll hear from me about this. I feel called to share about this and will again. Until then, stay safe, and take care of that beautiful mind.

---

If you ever need immediate professional help, please see the following resources:

• The National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255, answering calls 24/7
• Crisis Text Line: Text 'GO' to 741741 to connect with a trained crisis counselor

You can rest.

Do you fight for what you want?

I do.

Does a lot of your personal identity revolve around the idea of bucking the system, of doing it — life — your way?

Mine does.

The past nine years of my adult life have been all about these two things. I've been starting and quitting and moving and working and chasing.

I know work ethic is super important. I'm all for the hustle. I believe in going after what you really want — getting up and making things happen. But at some point.. it's time to rest.

Sometimes we don't know how or when to stop running even though our bodies, minds, souls... need to float. Sometimes (most of the time) we need to be know that it doesn't have to be a constant battle.

Stop thinking. Stop planning. Stop tweaking.

You can rest.

I've been house-sitting in Boulder for a week now. With one month left to go, I began hunting for a room or apartment to rent for the winter. After just a week of looking — wa-lah! — a fantastic option landed right in my lap, like it was meant to be. A sweet, clean house. A nice, funny roommate. An awesome location close to friends. A separate space for art making. It felt just right.

And here's the thing. I couldn't just let it be.

I continued mining through Craigslist at least five times a day. My mind kept reeling. What if this? What about that? Do I really want to be in Colorado? I could be there. Or there. I could find a better deal. I could live in the van for just one more month and save money.

And then my intuition spoke, loud and clear:

You can rest.

There are unlimited options of how to live our lives. You could change it all tomorrow if you really wanted to. But what if we listened to our gut from the get-go? What if we didn't question what felt right? What if we trusted?

Maybe it's time to stop the fight. Maybe it doesn't have to be so hard. Maybe you can just let this unravel in its own perfect way. Maybe it's time to believe in the possibility of having what you really, truly want and need.

Maybe you need to hear it, too:

You can rest.

You can rest.

Van life organized neatly.

File this under "just for fun". I still can't believe everything I own (except for one big puffy parka at my mom's house) is in this van. 

It wasn't always easy to pare down, either. Although I typically love purging unused or no-longer-loved items, there were quite a few cherished items I parted with to live in the van. Like a gorgeous wool rug from West Elm that I bought for my first apartment, an old vintage Schwinn I had since high school, and other sentimental, consciously-curated bits.

While it does feel freeing to live so minimally, I do crave the creature comforts that come with living in a structure where you can actually stand up. Like a real bed. And more than one pillow. And a kitchen you don't have to set up every time you want to boil water. ;)

But hey, for now, this is life. And I love it.

Check out this quick timelapse of how the above photo came to be!

Confession: Almost everything I own is pictured here. (IE: Not my delicates, because sometimes ya just gotta keep it classy, friends).

I want a house. (The case for a non-linear life.)

The past six days I've been waking in an Adobe country home in Santa Fe, along with four pups, two cats, and two horses (the horses sleep outside, though). Why? How? House-sitting! A friend recently recommended it as a way to take an occasional break from van life.

Thing is, now I don't want to leave. It feels so right to be back in an airy house in the hills, surrounded by nature and animals.

My gut says: "YES! It's time. Create that life." And then my head butts in: "No, you're still too young. It would be a waste! Keep moving. You have your whole life to be still, to plant roots."

So all this got me thinking, what if life is not this linear progression of events as we might expect?

Last night I slid into a pair of wool leggings, thick sweater and socks. I boiled water for tea and baked cinnamon rolls (from a tube — #realitycheck). The pups followed me from the den, playing rough as I tripped over them in my path. It was complete chaos. And it was lovely. My heart felt so full. The encroaching fall season made parts of the house cold out but the oven infused the kitchen with warmth and the scent of browning sweet dough. I danced around with the pups, having one of those moments where all you can think is This is exactly what I want.

So this morning I woke up and changed all the locks. Little do the home owners know, THIS IS MY PLACE NOW. Muahaha.

But seriously, this kitchen epiphany made me realize a larger truth (and I'm going to share it because I can't help myself)...

There's this idea of a linear life — be born; go to school; travel "while you can"; date around; get a job; get married; have kids; work more; save money; get promoted; retire; die. Or something like that.

For some, this structure may be just what they truly want. And that's great! But maybe... you'll go back to school in your 60s and reinvent your career. Or you'll sell a huge business and retire at 30. Or you'll get married at 18. Adopt a kid at 50. Become single again when you're 45. Travel full-time with your family at 30.

I have this self-imposed pressure to be constantly traveling because I'm young. I've heard so many people say, "Do it while you can!"

I'm calling BS.

Travel isn't just for the young! Putting down roots isn't only for the established! Nothing ever has to be IT — your one chance, your one moment to do X. Nothing is permanent. You can always change your mind and change your life.

Not to mention, it is never black or white. One decision or facet of your life does not define you. We are each spectrums of adventure and creativity and rooting and love and service and joy. And way more.

Let's shake off the pressure and expectations. I'm 26 and I have this crazy dream to buy a house. (I feel so vulnerable and weird saying that.)

Maybe I'll have it for five years and sell it to move somewhere else or live on the road full-time again. Or live in it part-time and travel the other. Or even realize it's not all I thought it would be. So. What. This is living.

Make decisions. Take risks. Try something new.

Go up and down and around and backward and sideways. Start again. Let people think you're nuts. YES. Create that precious, beautiful (perhaps non-linear) life you love!

Road hacks: Must-have apps for safety, saving money, & more.

When I moved back to the States from New Zealand I was so certain that I wouldn't need a smartphone. During the past year abroad I didn't, but I also wasn't traveling constantly. I had a solid Internet connection in my apartment and data wasn't necessary.

I finally caved and got a month-to-month T-Mobile plan ($40 for 3GB of high-speed data and unlimited data after that; plus unlimited talk and text), and I'm so glad. I use my phone and data almost constantly during travel days.

From saving on gas to staying safe alone, here are some of my must-have apps for the road. (PS: I am in no way affiliated with any of these apps, I just love and use 'em regularly!)

GAS GURU

Gas Guru finds the cheapest gas near your location. Pretty straightforward. I love it! I also like to check my route for the day to see where the cheapest gas is and plan my refills around that. If I see it'll be cheaper 200 miles away, I'll just refill just enough to get there.

GROUPON

Great for finding cheap oil changes or any other little indulgences on a budget while passing through places.

ASANA

A task-managing app that's absolutely crucial to staying organized in my business. They also just launched offline capabilities, so now you don't need to use data or be on wifi to access your to-do list and project goals. Yeehaw!

VOICE MEMOS

This might be my most-used app. It's like magic — as soon as I hit the road and get in motion, the ideas begin to flood my mind. Recording voice memos is a great way of taking notes safely while driving. It's also a means to practice communicating thoughts into words — something I've always struggled with. I've become more confident of a speaker just by using Voice Memos. Crazy!

STARBUCKS

If you go to Starbucks regularly, become a rewards member now! I wish I did it sooner. I have a monthly coffee shop budget so I just load my card up in the app and stay on track with how much I'm spending. It also gives me access to free drinks and other goodies. I love visiting local coffee shops as well, but I can always rely on Starbucks for strong wifi and power outlets.

SAFETREK

This is a new one that I downloaded after the one time I was followed. It's simple. You hold your finger down in the app when you start to feel unsafe, and after you let go you have four seconds to enter your pin. If you fail to do so local police and your emergency contact will be notified. I haven't had to use this, but it's great to know it's there.

What are you must-have apps? I'd love to hear if you have recommendations that might help on the road or are just plain fun! Cheers! -Amanda

How to live spectacularly.

Last week a dear friend and I had an emotional conversation. She told me she felt like I'd been judgmental of her lifestyle — one which, on the outside, society might consider "normal". (Even though I don't believe in normal, and I think she is spectacular.)

Hearing this absolutely broke my heart. I never want to make anyone feel like I think my lifestyle is more or better than theirs. Each of us has different wants, needs, and dreams. That's what makes this world so dang awesome!

I am vocal about this chapter of life because I feel SO amazed that almost every day I can actually do what I want. But my goal has never been convince you to live on the road. I share because I simply must get all these emotions and experiences out of me.

After the initial pain, this conversation with my friend ended up being super inspiring because I actually really admire her and think what she's doing — finding the love of her life; caring for animals; moving to her dream city — is so rad.

So I want to just say that your life doesn't have to look like mine (or anyone else's) for it to be wild, adventurous, creative, spectacular.

You can be the most adventurous person you know and never leave the country. You can be super creative and never pick up a paint brush. Wildness, creativity.. these are states of mind and being.

What truly inspires me is a person who is actively seeking and creating a life they love. Whatever that means to them. That's it!

Ultimately what leaves the greatest impression on anyone is a person who is ALIVE. [tweet]

I've met folks on the road who are unfulfilled, lifeless, bitter, dull. I've also met people who own a home on an acre of land and have a kid and chickens and it's SO obvious that they are ALIVE and full of JOY. The latter is the person I want to be around.

The greatest experiences during this trip haven't been arriving at new places or summiting peaks, but spending time with old and new friends, in their homes. Watching them share a pot of coffee with their love. Feeling their warmth and welcomeness as they proudly give me a tour of their neighborhood and local ice cream joints. Being invited to spaghetti dinners and treated like I'm a part of the family. Seeing their creative spaces, so full of vigor and life.

Being told, "You are welcome here any time. Any time." 

Love. That's pure love.

And that is what's spectacular. 

Without these people, this trip wouldn't be half of what it is.

They are alive. They are in love with the lives they've crafted, and they want to share that love.

And that's all that matters. What makes you come alive? That's the whole thing! That's how to live spectacularly — be ALIVE and let your aliveness leave no one who comes across it the same.

Get out of your head & into your body.

Picture it.

You wake up in a hot box (otherwise known as a van) on a neighborhood street. You crawl out of bed, sweating, and awkwardly kneel to put on pants so you can drive off before folks start to get weirded out by you making breakfast in front of their house.

You drive around for 20 minutes trying to find a private shaded spot where you can start your day. Finally you settle on brushing your teeth and eating breakfast at Starbucks so you can get to work (which involves sitting on your computer for a greater part of the day).

Vanlife (and travel in general), requires a LOT of thinking. Strategizing. Planning. Especially if you are working for yourself on the road. And if you spend a lot of time in your head already — worrying, planning, setting goals — this lifestyle can completely exhaust you.

I've totally experienced burn out the past few months because of this.

So I started making a few daily grounding practices — little things I can do whether I am in a Walmart parking lot or national forest that take me out of my head and back into my body.

Here are a few essentials to mine (for now; it changes in different environments):
 

• Sweeping out the van every morning and keeping the space organized and clean
• Creating a soothing environment through a homemade room spray, lavender candle, and burning sage
• Being intentional with taking supplements every day
• Drinking looots of water. Every time I refill my water bottle I challenge myself to drink it all within one hour.
• Appreciating my skin and body and turning off all mental stimulation, like music or podcasts, when I am putting on lotion, oil, etc. I also moisturize my whole body before getting into bed.
• Sweating outside every day, even if it's just five minutes of sprints up a nearby hill

What takes you from being in your head to your body? Think about all the senses

1. Touch — stretching; rubbing oil or lotion on your skin; cuddling or hugging someone or an animal; putting your feet on the ground; touching nature
2. Taste — lemon water in the morning is a common one; eating whole, alive foods; mindfully drinking tea or coffee
3. Smell — essential oils; perfume; literally stopping to smell the roses; lighting a candle
4. Sound — soothing instrumental music; listening to the sounds of your environment; being silent and embracing the quiet
5. Sight — watching the sun rise or set; taking in the local foliage; looking at someone you love; smiling in the mirror; making art

The most important part of this practice is intention. They're kind of pointless if you're not present.

Silence is an entryway for presence. I used to listen to podcasts while doing my skincare routine, but it's much more soothing when I just *pause* the episode for five minutes.

Start small and build. Nothing is final — your practices can adapt with you between seasons, environments, and lifestyles.

The time I was followed. (Part 2 of the solo woman traveling series)

Recently, for the first time ever, I felt unsafe in the van.

I stopped in a tiny town in Oregon for a quick break on my way from Portland to the Northern California redwoods. It was a warm, sunny evening and I just loved it. So I decided to stay the night.

I drove down to the river as the sun was setting. I wanted to jump in the water. As I cruised along trying to find a place to stop, I noticed a black Jeep following close behind. I made a U-turn, and the Jeep did too. I thought it could just be a coincidence. I kept driving.

I continued a ways down the river and pulled off the road. The Jeep stopped as well. I started to get a little nervous, so I drove farther to a different pull off where another car was also stopped. I got out (there was a couple in the car) and the man in the Jeep pulled up beside me and stepped out of his vehicle as well.

In my mind I knew it was okay; there were people around, right? But as he approached, my stomach jumped into my throat and I totally froze. We were both looking at the river and he said, "It's a bit intimidating, isn't it?" I didn't engage and instead moved back toward my car. He followed way too closely. As I pulled my door shut he stood within a foot of the van and watched me drive away.

He got back into his car and pulled onto the road. I just wanted him to GO AWAY, so I pulled off again to see if he'd pass by. He didn't — he pulled behind me again. And I thought, Okay, this is it. I'm getting the f--- out of here.

I steered back on the road and he followed. I knew it would be okay because I was in a vehicle, but I still panicked. I stopped when I found an older couple walking down the road and told them I was being followed. I asked where the police station was, and they directed me. 

On my way there, the creepy Jeep man finally left.

I don't tell this story to scare you, but this is sadly the reality of being a solo woman traveling. There are the rare, random creeps out there who think it's okay to disrespect us. But they are not the norm.

As I decompressed from the experience I decided to NOT let this dude scare me. That would give him way too much power.

I will not let this one creep ruin vanlife. I will not let him sour my belief that most people (including men) are good. I will not let my ego blow up this single experience so I am constantly on edge and afraid. I will not stay inside.

No. No. No.

Instead, I will remember the numerous awesome male friends I've made over the past four months, all of whom have respected my boundaries and treated me like any other human. I'll think back on the amazing conversations I've had with homeless veterans, musicians, business owners, artists, vanlife-rs, all of whom happened to be male.

I will not let creepy Jeep dude negate these experiences. 

I refuse to close my van door just because a man drives by. Or not smile because I'm afraid he might take it the wrong way. Of course, I'll be safe and smart, but I refuse to be scared into submission.

And to all the men out there, please keep in mind what we women have to consider when you are interacting with us, especially while traveling. We are constantly told how scary it is out there.

Treat women as you would any human. No need to compliment our looks. Feel free to make conversation, but don't come on to us. And even when we're not around, advocate for us — you have a voice as well, and the only way we'll overcome injustice is if we all speak up.

On being a solo woman traveling (part 1)

This is an article I recently wrote for The Yellow Conference blog. You can view the original piece here. There is a Part 2, which will be released the week of September 5.

As a single woman, I feel that media often paints a picture of reality for me that’s doused in vulnerability and fear. The world is not safe for you, woman. You are a vulnerable creature in need of constant protection.

Movies, TV, the news — they all seem to echo: Stay safe; stay inside! Stay close to your man.

I am not naive. I know bad things happen to good women every day, and I am not immune to any of the inherent dangers that come with not being a man.

But ultimately, I choose to believe that most people are good, and nothing constitutes the true danger of an unlived life. That’s why four months ago I chose to face one of my greatest fears — to live in a van and travel across North America. By myself.

I did not always believe or act this way. Just a few months ago I was scared to walk out to my car alone at night. Now I’m living in one.

A year ago a friend built out her Honda Element to travel around the country alone for one year. At the time I, too, was embarking on an adventure — I was moving to New Zealand with my boyfriend (at the time) — but the idea of being a solo woman on the road rooted in me, to be uncovered nearly a year later.

I could never do that by myself, I thought. I pictured being alone in a van dark at night, heart racing at every shuffle that sounded through the thin van walls. Maybe I could do it one day — with my boyfriend.

I hated that I felt that way. I wanted to be independent, free, confident and brave. But I was just so… scared. When the opportunity to live on the road appeared, I was intrigued but fearful. Nightmares and severe anxiety plagued me daily. Still, the idea persisted.

While I mulled it over for months, a personality — a mentor, of sorts — began forming. A woman. She was bold and brave and so sure of herself. She rose above all of the smallness of fear-mongering and shame. She adventured on her own regularly. She stood tall in who she was. She wouldn’t become small for anyone. She was wild.

She is the #atwildwoman.

The first time I created her by putting pen to paper, I felt a huge mental shift. I began researching how to turn a minivan into a home on wheels. I set a budget and saved. I spent 30 days drawing the #atwildwoman in different shapes and sizes and discovered she isn’t one person, but a spirit of gumption and wildness that lives in all of us. Her existence may not be apparent, but she’s there, perhaps under layers of stories, half-truths, and fear.

As I learned more about the #atwildwoman, I found myself doing things I never thought I could. I went on climbing trips without my boyfriend. I hiked alone. I bought a van. I learned how to use a saw. I cut and drilled and glued wood. I installed a ceiling and created a floor plan and built furniture. I slept in Walmart parking lots and talked with strangers and, despite a bit of social anxiety, met with people I’d followed online and looked up to for years.

But even more than all of this doing and action, I’ve learned from the #atwildwoman that courage sometimes looks very quiet, like softening.

I’m realizing that braveness has another
side, perhaps one more innately feminine.

It looks like allowing tears and fears and doubt to co-exist with my gumption, my pride, my power.

Courage sometimes comes in the form of accepting rejection and being one with a broken heart. Letting yourself cry so hard and have a nervous breakdown on a dark country road. Feeling total unrelenting fear. Letting all that bubble to the surface and choosing to to continue, to keep accepting and loving yourself despite what society may dub as a failure or shortcoming.

I’m sure there are many — endless, really — layers and sides to courage I have yet to discover, but so far, I keep hearing these two pieces of advice from the #atwildwoman.

She tells me:

“Press on.” and then “Let it be.”

And with these two messages ringing strong and true, I do just that. Not fearlessly, but with conviction and hope that there really is nothing left to fear.

I couldn't escape this time.

The last five years I've been roaming around the world looking (unknowingly) for happiness. I moved from New Jersey to San Francisco. I quit my day job. I lived in New Zealand for a year. I built out a van and started traveling all over North America.

During these pursuits I never recognized how externally-dependent my happiness was. I didn't view any of my dreams as particularly superficial (like simply wanting to be rich or famous) so I didn't think twice about their origins.

Yet during or after each goal was fulfilled, I found myself in the same place — unsatisfied, unstable, and looking for the next.

Deep down I knew I'd never find true fulfillment through any outside endeavor, but I refused to face this idea until recently, when I literally couldn't run away any more. Van life.

Everywhere I drove, the insufficiency of my external happiness followed. I cried. I drowned my sorrows in ice cream and Instagram. I had good times, too. And after much avoidance, I reluctantly lifted my gaze and locked eyes with my suffering.

I should be happy, I said to it. I don't have a boss; I can travel anywhere I want; I get to be creative and adventurous every day. It's my dream. Why are you here?

A sneaking suspicion arose: What makes some days hard and some days easy? Could it be me? Pshhhh. But I can't just CHOOSE to be happy. I can't. It's too hard. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE.

Soon after this internal dialogue I listened to an interview with Tony Robbins while driving from Portland to the redwoods in Northern California. And it all came to a head.

I can't do the episode justice in a few lines, but my biggest takeaway was Tony talking about two states of being — beautiful states and suffering states — and it's up to us to choose which one we live in right now.

Simple. We've all probably heard something like this a thousand times.

And it's true.

"We live in a world where most of us are looking for what's wrong. What's wrong is always available. So is what's right.  ...find what is beautiful in each moment, and I'm telling you, there is nothing on earth I've experienced that's brought more joy."

This interview blatantly confirmed all I'd been avoiding, that nothing — no gorgeous mountain backdrop, no passionate relationship, no accolade or award — will truly fulfill me.

That can be a hard truth to accept because there's no road map that'll show us the way. It's uncharted territory. Murky waters. An internal exploration and you're diving solo.

Fulfillment is an art and a state of being. You don't stop having dreams or desiring relationships or travel. It simply means that happiness starts here and now, regardless.

Of course, I'm still figuring all this out, and there's always sooooo much more to learn, but for now it seems pretty straightforward:

You choose to be happy. That's it. So simple it's almost maddening, isn't it?

Nothing will ever be just right. Nothing on the outside will ever fulfill. So I'm choosing happiness. Because if not now, when?