two years later, I don’t feel too rebellious about owning a semi-converted school bus.
sad. burnt out. stuck. annoyingly resilient and stubborn. with a twinge of envy. those are more accurate descriptions.
I have been searching my whole life for a home that doesn’t turn into a graveyard. discovering skoolies and #buslife felt closest to what I’d want my home to be, to a life I’ve always dreamed of having. but, it won’t start. wait, that’s not true. it will start, the batteries still have a bit of life despite their age. but I don’t have as much as I used to, life that is, although every day I turn over.
when people ask me about the bus now, they exclaim that they want to follow the journey! where’s your channel? where can I see? and lemme tell you. this *journey* has been rich with potholes. dents and scratches. so many busted tires. four actually, all dry rotted, unable to even take me out of my state, let alone out of my current life. my steering tires are in good shape, but my front brakes are gone. my lucky breaks are gone.
it was never my intention to build my bus myself. the quiet undertone of most diy stories curated for large audiences is the unpaid skilled labor that someone always has direct access to, through the kindness of someone’s heart or their contractor connections who are willing and able to execute on a project this daunting with no reward but completion. my build asks are not simple, able to be beautifully cobbled together with pallet wood and stain (no shade). my design aspirations are not an easily searchable term on Pinterest like “rustic farmhouse.” and thus, it cannot be completed with just gumption and will.
when I talk to possible contacts to see if they can help me finish my bus, they tell me to join Facebook groups, watch YouTube videos, don’t be afraid to reach out. they exalt a community described as full of people willing to help, maybe even for free. but every person who I’ve asked to help me has said no, some before they even see the work. have said yes, and then found themselves without the time to follow thru. said yes, and then given me work that I need to redo/undo/do-over. that includes friends, friends of friends, semi-popular YouTubers, campgrounds, and facebook marketplace sellers.
when people ask me about the bus now, they just scoff, ‘do you plan to finish it?’ well. it was never the plan to have to wait paycheck to paycheck to afford repairs or builds. I had the money, and then a company took $25k and left me just enough build so that casual feel comfortable saying things like ‘keep going’ or ‘you’ve already come so much further than other people.’ as if their blind aspiration will help me. when this journey has taken every bit of my faith in the universe, in myself, in my ability to finish. anything. i know you cannot see struggle in periodic progress pics, but hear me when I say that it’s there.
every day, I am barely holding myself together. I take my days to cry and grieve. I swallow the loss of me and what I wanted my bus to bring until days like today, when I open the door and let my therapist see the progress. my kitchen cabinets have to be rebuilt. again. my solar batteries are dead, I think. my bathroom is still down to the studs and my bed is in pieces. everything I need done is best completed by a professional; entire systems must be installed that are dangerous when attempted by a novice. it’s been four years since I bought the bus and I don’t know when I’ll have the home that I so desperately need so I can have a reason to stay, just not a place. the loss I feel isn’t just from so many false starts falling short. it’s from feeling like I don’t have anything else to lose but myself.
I feel rusted out. delicate, crumbling metal.
if it is so that I have to learn plumbing just to complete my bathroom. learn welding just to install my propane tank. learn carpentry and how to cut wood without getting shavings in my eyes. then I guess that’s the next chapter. and forgive my anger and indifference, but inquiries won’t finish my bus any faster. because, for me, this path is bigger than building a tiny home. it’s connected to all the lines and fissures and filters that complete my life and deepest healing. unfortunately, all my progress looks like no progress at all.
Follow along on my journey to life on the road on Instagram @write_princess_ or donate to my build costs here.
