Fatigue

Those who read my blog regularly have probably already picked up on the fact that I’m starting to have some doubts about vanlife and how much longer I want to keep going like this.

For a few months now, it’s been a bit of a roller-coaster. One moment I love vanlife and the next I’m over it. One moment I can’t imagine ever living any other way, and the next I want to sell the van and move into a house in suburbia. 

I’ve been struggling to understand, let alone put into words, what I’m feeling – until now. 

The other day, as I was – once again – trying to figure out where I wanted to go next, feeling overwhelmed with the options, when it came to me. 

Fatigue! I’m feeling fatigued! 

For a while now, I’ve found myself feeling torn about this lifestyle. There are moments of incredible joy, gratitude and happiness. When I get to explore yet another incredibly beautiful part of the country, or when I’m out and about in nature, climbing up hills, riding my bike or cruising along on my paddleboard. When I’ve got enough work to pay the bills, but plenty of time to explore, daydream and enjoy life. At times like those, I simply can’t imagine a better way to live my life. 

As I write this, I’m sitting in my van at Pakawau Beach in Golden Bay, looking out over the ocean. It’s beautiful and peaceful. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. It’s moments like this when I wonder how I could ever give up this lifestyle. 

But then there are those other moments. When I have to decide where I’m going to stay that night or where I’m going next, feeling overwhelmed with the options. When I have to find my way around yet another new area and neighbourhood. When I continuously move stuff around the van because there just isn’t’ enough space. When something as simple as getting a package delivered is a challenge, or when I have to explain for the umpteenth time why I don’t have a postal address. When I don’t know what I will find at my destination and whether my neighbours will be kind or rude. When everything changes all the time. 

Those are the moments when I just want to stop. Stop moving around all the time. Stop travelling. Stop this life that is so full of change and uncertainty. 

When I think about it, it’s ironic that I chose this lifestyle in the first place. 

I’m a total creature of habit. I like routine and familiar places. I like having a local café where they know my name and how I like my coffee. I like going to the same supermarket where I know my way around. I like seeing familiar faces and being close to people I know well. I like certainty and consistency. 

And yet somehow, for the last four years, I’ve been living this life that’s all about change, uncertainty and newness. 

Every day is different. Every time I need groceries, I need to figure out where the nearest supermarket is and how to get there. Every day I need to decide where I’m going and what I will do. Every day I’m surrounded by new faces and meet new people. 

I’m tired! 

I’m tired of having to make decisions all the time. I’m tired of never knowing what my surroundings will be like that day. I’m tired of having to turn my lounge into my bedroom at night and back around in the morning. I’m tired of having new neighbours every day. I’m tired of having the same superficial conversations with different people. 

It kind of makes sense that I feel this way. Even someone less of a creature of habit than I am would probably experience this fatigue sooner or later. I think living this way puts our brains and bodies in a state of higher alert. Every days tasks and decision require more effort, more attention. 

When we’re living relatively normal lives, in familiar surroundings and with a fair amount of routine and repetition, we can probably get through large chunks of our days on autopilot. Things like driving to work and going to the supermarket don’t require much thought or decision-making. Every day, we return home to the same people and neighbourhood without giving it much thought at all. Some of my friends with ‘normal’ lives complain that they never meet new people or that they are stuck in a rut, that too much of their lives happens on autopilot. 

When you’re a full-time traveller, a lot less can happen on autopilot.

Your brain needs to be engaged much more. It’s no surprise that it gets tiring after a while. It’s no surprise that my brain and body are feeling fatigued. 

But then there are those epic moments. When I watch the sunrise over the ocean or when I am standing in awe of the beauty of this country. Those moments energise me and make it all worth it – at least they have until now. 

I’m feeling things shifting. The epic moments still energise me and fill me with so much joy and happiness. But it doesn’t seem to last as long anymore. 

The yearning for more stability, more routine, less uncertainty and less decision-making is getting stronger.  

So what does that mean? I’m not sure right now.

I can’t see myself returning permanently to ‘normal’ life in the city. I also think I would miss travelling and exploring if I gave it up completely. But it might be time to start thinking seriously about having a base somewhere. A place I can return to when I need a break from travelling. A place where I can put down some roots, become part of the community, and find that local café where they will know my name and how I like my coffee (extra hot Flat White, please!)

For now, I’ve committed to two longer housesits in Auckland over Winter. While I don’t want to live in Auckland permanently again, most of my friends are still there, and I’m looking forward to spending more time with them. Being in Auckland also gives me more work options – and if I want to be able to put down roots somewhere, I will have to save up some more money first. 

Until then, I will continue to enjoy the South Island for another three weeks and then start making my way north. 

After all, who knows what the future holds for any of us, so we might as well focus on enjoying the present.  

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