Where things are at

I lived in Southern California with my partner's family for three and a half years. We originally moved there out of desperation, we were in need of a place to live with nowhere to go. No money, no idea how we wanted to make money, no desire to be just another exploited worker for capitalism. Also we liked my partner's mom, we had a lot in common like gardening and cooking. My partner's younger brother lived at home with his mom as well so it gave my partner a chance to have a better relationship with him. And things were fine, not great, but fine. We lived on little money, had a space to garden in, had family to watch our dog when we went out of town. Somethings were hard, especially within our relationship with my partner's mom. She was sometimes controlling and self- centered and had this thing about always being right. But we cared for her and were working to make things better, I really saw a future living in community with her, having her around when we had kids, supporting her as she got older. I really cared for her well being. Then covid hit.

Covid drove a wedge between us. It really exasperated a lot of the problems we hadn't been able to solve within our relationship with her. Her need to control us, her tendency to be self centered, her need to be seen as right almost all of the time. And we disagreed about how important social distancing and mask wearing were. Patrick, my partner, and I were very careful, always wearing masks around other people, not hanging out with anyone outside of our household. Patrick didn't even go back to work when his job teaching kids about reptiles offer to pay him under the table. But Patrick's mom had other priorities, going on vacation, spending the night at her friend's houses multiple times a week, having people over to the house we all shared and not asking them to wear masks inside (despite constant requests from us). Over the course of 2020, tensions grew and by November we knew that we needed to move out at least by next summer, if not sooner. Then we all got covid.

That shit blew up like dropping mentos in a bottle of pepsi. And we all started to be covered in her shit. The abuse was unrelenting. I was so afraid all the time. Afraid to leave our room. Afraid to cook food. Afraid to speak to her or respond to her. Afraid of what she was capable of if I didn't respond to her. Afraid of what she was going to do to us when she found out we were planning to leave. So we made plans in whispers and dark rooms.

By March, we had packed up our things into a storage unit, loaded up our 20 year old converted campervan with the rest of our things, and headed with our dog into the mountains. We then spent 2 months living out of our campervan in at a campground in southern California before making the drive up to the Eastern Sierras. It might sound idyllic to go on a two month road trip around California but it was harder than I felt I could handle. Our dog is reactive towards dogs and humans. We didn't have any time to plan. We didn't have any money. And we were still processing why all these shitty things kept happening. There are also some really great moments, hikes in the most beautiful places, hours and hours spent outside by the creek, under the trees, or starring up at the stars. Our dog hates driving but really loved all the hours he got to spend sun bathing and exploring in some of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. In the beginning of June we made our way to my mom's house in the San Francisco Bay Area for my older sister's wedding. And that is where we are at now.

We have been staying at my mom's house just north of San Francisco for the last two and a half months. We started off our time here prepping for my sister's wedding. Now we have been prepping to get back on the road, coming up with a plan for our futures and how to are going to get there. I still don't feel ready to get back on the road but we can't stay here any longer. So in four days we will be heading up north, passing through Oregon on our way to Washington to escape the fires, the heat, the housing prices. We don't really know what we are going to do once we get there or how we will support ourselves, or where we will live. Everything is up in the air. We have been working hard to get ourselves in a better position to make money on the road but that doesn't mean we will be able to make enough money or any at all really. This shit is hard. I am terrified. I feel much closer to homelessness than #vanlife. But we have dreams. And those dreams need hope to survive. Patrick, my partner, provides most of the hope in our relationship but it is enough to keep our dreams alive for now. Here's to hoping that's fucking enough.