Vanlife and the Great Outdoors: Helping to Shape a Life of Sobriety

Less than three years ago, my husband and I were chain smoking cigarettes and throwing massive parties at our house multiple times a month. We’d go through bottles of whiskey faster than toilet paper.

We were living the dream, though. We had bought a 2 story, 3 bedroom house in the suburbs of St. Louis, Missouri. My husband, John, worked the 9-5 life in the finance industry, while I juggled random jobs from Costco to waitressing to nonprofit work and more.

We’d always been avid travelers, so we decided to do one last big adventure before having children. Through random and rapid events we stumbled upon #vanlife, bought a van, built it into a home, sold all of our belongings and hit the road in Spring 2017.

The Beginning

We’d stopped smoking by the time we hit the road, but still heavily identified as drinkers. We’d travel around and visit friends all over the country, essentially hopping from one bender to the next. When we weren’t with old buddies guzzling down booze around a fire, we were off on our own in the wild - John with his case of beer and myself with my box of wine.

When you live in such a small situation, a lot of realities smack you in the face quick and they smack you in the face hard. We don’t have a bathroom in our van, so being extremely hungover when your nearest restroom is wherever you dig a hole is far from pleasant and far from ideal. It feels nothing like the beautiful vanlife world that is captured and shared all over social media.

Feeling like crap got pretty old pretty quickly. I found I kept saying no to hikes and dog walks due to a throbbing migraine. I wasn’t sleeping well - going to bed by 4am, waking up multiple times throughout the night and finally getting out of bed around noon. I wasn’t exercising at all, and any work I wanted to do either never got done or was half-assed.

I wanted to do better. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to be better.

The Turning Point

John and I were constantly getting into fights and arguments. Sometimes I’d notice (but would NEVER actually acknowledge) that they were perpetuated by an angst I felt inside of myself that desired attention. I didn’t want attention from John though, I was desiring attention from myself.

On the surface I was mad at John taking the dogs on a hike without me, but deep down I was mad at myself for telling them to go ahead and I’d hang back by the van. I wasn’t mad that John was asking me to do the dishes - deep down I was mad that I truly had no desire to do anything even mildly productive.

It was time for a radical change.

My transformation didn’t happen overnight. I didn’t wake up one month later like in the movies. It’s been at least a year and I am still transforming as I type this. It’s a process. But it’s doable if you’re persistent and patient.

The Transition

I began some gradual transitions within myself. The most important being daily gratitude. I’d begin every morning and evening by coming up with three things I was grateful for. I also started practicing some serious honesty. I would take time to point out how I was feeling and why, whenever any sort of emotion would wash over me. Am I upset with myself? Am I upset with someone else? Is this something worth being upset about?  

I practiced yoga with a more serious intent than before. I did my best to be easy on myself - reminding myself I had to perfect downward dog before I could ever do a handstand. I found practicing on the earth was far easier than practicing in a studio. I felt connected to every move I made. It was as if I could see each inhale as I was taking them.

I felt more centered in the outdoors - a deep connection I had never noticed before. Bugs became a thing I was curious about instead of afraid of. I began recognizing the different trees - the colors and fruits they provided - instead of just looking at a mountain and seeing a vague spread of trees, with nothing separating a pine from an aspen.

Hikes became an exciting challenge resulting in hundreds of rewards. I’d push myself to go further, or higher, or faster. With each additional push I was able to experience something more remarkable, more beautiful, more astonishing than before.

The more involved I became with the outdoors and living in the wild, the more substances seemed unnecessary. It seemed that with each negative addiction I got rid of, I would see more clearly than before. As I got rid of each negative addiction, I’d discover a new addiction to focus on. It has turned into a domino effect of becoming a truer and healthier me.

The Wild Saved Me

I finally quit drinking in April 2018 - my last hurrah. I enjoyed wine with my mother-in-law and John and vowed that this was my last bash before saying farewell. Not too long after I cut out alcohol, marijuana followed.

I found a lot of creative motivation and inspiration from being high, but I was discouraged that I felt the need to be high in order to acquire these motivations and inspirations. I wanted to get lost in a two-hour yoga flow without being blazed out of my mind. I wanted to write this heart-wrenching poem building up inside of me without having to roll a joint first.

And again, the wild saved me. I began finding my motivation and inspiration through the songs of the birds hidden in the trees above, or from the rushing water of the creek next to where we camped out. And, most importantly, I found these things I was longing to "find" and "feel" deep inside of myself, 100% sober. No additives, no substances, no distraction or alternatives. Just myself.

I truly believe I’d never have been able to become sober if we’d remained in the suburbs. A "drunk" was an identity I needed to remain in a world I disagreed with. It’s the middle of the woods, the rivers rushing through a desert or the peak of a mountain and all the natural places in between that are my high now. They bring me to life. They bring me back to myself. I am thankful every day for nature and its ability to shake you awake. It’s pretty wild, if you ask me.