Answering the Big Questions from Full-Time RV Life

I’ve written about how and why I became the Nonprofit Nomad, what it’s like to be a digital nomad, and how my RV lifestyle helped me embrace uncertainty. As I prepare to give a two-part GrantSummit session with my friends and colleagues Liz Forster and Maureen Bonnefin, I’ve been reflecting on this nomadic life I’ve maintained for the past 3.5 years. I get a lot of the same questions over and over (How do you get your mail? What do you do for healthcare? What did you do with all your stuff? What if you can’t find service and have a looming deadline?), many of which we’ll be covering in our sessions.

Here, I thought I’d touch on some of the bigger picture questions. These strike at the heart of our biggest fears as humans: of change and failure on one side and, on the other side, wasting our one life. We only get one shot.

Would you still do it the same way? What regrets do you have?

If given the chance again, I would absolutely have hit the road when and how we did. It was a natural transition at that time in my career, and the country had started to open up again post-Covid. I had established a pipeline of clients that have kept me busy over the last few years.

While I love our current rig (a 21ft travel trailer), we will be sizing up to a larger RV at some point soon. It gets a little tight in our current setup with two adult humans, and it would also be nice to have more storage for full-time living. It’ll actually be the first time in our marriage that my husband and I have ever increased the square footage in which we’re living. I definitely don’t regret starting out small, since it gave me the confidence to tow by myself when he’s at work.

If I thought long and hard about it, I’m sure I could identify some things I regret. Our senior dog certainly would have preferred to stay in his “retirement home” in Savannah! But at least for now, the benefits of full-time RV travel while working full-time have outweighed the costs.

How long will you be on the road?

Great question! And the answer is: who knows. When we first set out, we said we’d try the lifestyle for 2-5 years. We’re halfway through that range, and definitely plan to continue for at least a few more years (or else we wouldn’t consider upsizing to a larger rig). This isn’t a forever life, and we know folks who are on and off the road as full-timers. For now, we and our families are healthy, and I have a drive (pun always intended) to see these great places around our country I keep hearing about.

What are the biggest lessons you’ve learned that you might not have learned otherwise?

Although I’m sure I would have gotten to this point somehow, this lifestyle has helped me learn how to listen to my body. I realized recently that I’ve lived most of my life just pushing through. I wrote about my intense schedule as an undergrad, and that is the frame of mind I’ve been in most of my life. Tired? Drink coffee! Too much to do? Get it done, no matter the cost!

When I had a month of intense solo travel early in our first year of full-timing (19 travel days to go 4,600 miles), it took me months to work out the pain in my hips from so much sitting. Now I make sure to plan breaks and stretch regularly. And recently, I’ve started having regular migraines, which has forced me to start paying attention to how much sleep and hydration I’m getting.

In addition to the importance of learning to embrace uncertainty, I’ve also learned that I am a nomad at heart. I had the extreme privilege of living in the same homes for my entire childhood, and I think that stability helped set me up for the curiosity I’ve felt while we’ve been on the road.

Do you miss being in one place?

There are definitely benefits to being in one spot: a regular work and exercise schedule, getting to know the rhythm of a place, networking. And don’t get me wrong, I’m an introverted housecat at heart! I love nothing more than being at home. 

But the benefit of this lifestyle is that I bring my house with me wherever I go! One time, I was driving to a new location with a swimming pool and thought, darn it, I don’t have my swimsuit. Then I realized I did have my swimsuit, because I was towing my entire house. (As a side note, it’s weird packing to go on a trip away from the RV, because I don’t have my entire house with me.)

We have gotten into a rhythm of staying stationary for several months at a time each year. Our first year, it was six months in California, then six months in Georgia, and most recently four months in Texas. Being able to balance busier travel schedules with stability definitely helps in terms of the longevity of this lifestyle. There’s just something nice about actually knowing the aisles in a grocery store and where to find the canned tomatoes. Ha!

Aren’t you scared?

This might be the big picture question I get the most, especially when people find out that I travel solo sometimes without my husband. Folks wonder about my physical safety, but also about my emotional well-being. And I totally get it! The first night I ever spent by myself in the rig (in a very safe private RV park in Mississippi), I slept with all my keys under my pillow and a baseball bat at my side. Needless to say, that’s not the case these days, but I do take common-sense precautions to stay safe, especially if I’m by myself.

If you’ve seen Inside Out 2, you probably remember the scene when Anxiety is having the brain create a multitude of scenarios resulting from an ordinary situation, all varying levels of awful and unlikely. I relate to that so deeply. Before we set out on this life, I made a list of all the worst-case scenarios. Horrific car crash, no clients, etc. And guess what? None of it has happened so far. After problem-solving through some tough situations (like finding a bridge out in middle-of-nowhere Mississippi and having to back up for a quarter mile), I know that I can work my way through whatever situation happens. And as a friend of mine points out, I’m a long way from living in a cardboard box.

Conclusion

With so many of my readers coming from a nonprofit background, I imagine you find that it’s easy to get stuck in a scarcity mindset. As in, “There’s never enough money or time, so I need to put my own happiness on the back burner to make more of both.” Guess what? No matter what lifestyle you choose, you’ll never have enough money or time. If you’re considering this lifestyle, think about ways you can adjust your mindset toward asset-based thinking instead. “If there’s never enough money or time, how do I want to spend both?” You might be surprised what that exercise will give you.

Cover photo by the author