I’m kind of a clean freak. That’s one of the reasons why I loved van life so much. With only 80 square feet to clean, it was easy to do everything in a day. I could get in there and scrub every inch of that space in a matter of hours. Only the other clean freaks understand how good that feels. For those of you who don’t get this kind of joy from cleaning, this is what some people refer to as a runner’s high. Whatever you do that gives you lots of endorphins.

While it was very easy for me to keep everything organized, it was not easy to keep the floors clean. When you live in a van, by nature, you are in nature. That means the second you step out of your door, you are often stepping right into dirt. The kind of dirt that has been marched on by a lot of people and looks constantly wet. All of that dirt comes back into the van with me via the grooves on the bottom of my shoes. 

I tried a lot of things to manage this mess over the first year I spent on the road. When I was in muddy Montana, I put plastic bags down to step on. I wish I had a gif of the intricate spins I did to step on the plastic bag, then out of my shoe to ensure the mud didn’t get everywhere. I’m sure all of you would have had a good laugh at that. When I was in the desert, I put a paper bag underneath the floor mat in hopes of catching some of the extra dust. 

But the sand on the beach. Damn that sand.

No mat, bag, or anything else will prevent sand from getting all over the place. Not only does it stick to the floors, it sticks to your skin as well. After a lot of sweeping over the first few weeks in the van, I found myself avoiding the beach. I didn’t want to clean up after any of my messy choices – especially sand. 

Fast forward a year and I’m living 4 blocks from the beach for 3 months. When things feel chaotic, nothing calms me more than taking the short walk to the shore, taking my socks off and sticking my feet in the sand. I find myself heading toward the water instinctively when I feel the overwhelm of another marathon call day or a million little choices. I can’t quite explain it. It just makes me happy. 

Earlier this week as I prepared for another busy week filled with job post workshops and training, I found myself barefoot in the sand on Sunday morning. It was cold. I was the only person on the beach. Well, me and my dog Dewey. I dug my feet deep into the sand, craving that overwhelming sensation of calm. 

I started to think about heading back into the van in just over 45 days. I heard that little voice in me that wants to avoid messy choices, deciding that I wouldn’t be able to do this soon. As I felt the sad ache of leaving, the more rational side of me interrupted. “I can put my feet in the damn sand whenever I want,” I thought. A little part of me wanted to cry, too, wondering how many times I’ve let myself talk myself out of things that bring me joy only to avoid making a mess. 

I wonder what obsessing over the mess has cost me – not just in time spent on a beach. I believe that everything happens for a reason. I don’t think everything would be different. I do know it would have felt different to find joy in the little moments. It might have even deleted some of the time I spent frustrated over things I couldn’t control like sandy floors at the beach. 

So in this next chapter of van life and overall living, I’m making a promise. A promise to embrace the messy choices and leave more room for joy. Even if I have to sweep the floors every damn day. 

Weekly Letters choices life choices making choices