#vanlife - Choosing to be Homeless

homelessness.

The first time I thought of thw word was on Cape Cod when a woman in Brewster called me homeless. After putting over 6 grand and later another two weeks of loving and living with a family that burnt, as my living situations with others do, in the flames of my trust issues getting in the way and not being respected.. and then hit with a tsunami of cold destruction on my end to seal the deal on who can be the meanest.

I’ve never really had a home until I had small opportunities if freedom living alone. My mother once said to me, im regards to my own inner feelings of home, “Home is wherever I am.”

It was a annoying thing to me at the time she said it and my desire to build a home somewhere I could thrive burned. But now I see she could have also meant Home is in herself. I share thst in common with my mother of saying things with double meaning and the recieving human unsure if I’m being seriously offensive or naïve, but it’s mostly sad and hopeful. The truth is can be sad. But we can have hope. & in the end persevere!!

Now I tell people that, ‘Home is wherever I am” and I hear my mom being incredibly wise. Something I didn’t give her enough credit for towards until I gave her none.

My mother was a townie, hard life, first, most beautiful, and most resented by her family for politics, power, and optics. For being a townie with a hard life is why my Dad’s family disliked her. My mom made friends with those who needed help and she did become her mother a lot I’d imagine. Another strained relationship that my mom would never give up on.

I give up tho. Bye familicia

I miss my neices and nephew so much a s the love of children around. I wish I wasn’t so weird around bbies now. I can’t wait to meet, really meet, my brother’s kids and ex-wife. They’re a world that’s aways existed that was Portugeuse family-secreted under the French Canadian rat shit covered rug.

Well, now I know all the truths about my mom and how I’m the damn dead bitch living incarnate (Gods rest her soul) and all this baggage and nuke-like effect on people’s ability to remain at ease when I am in a similar neighborhood.. could have been avoided if history was taught to the future generations of the severity of abuse was spoken, heard, and acted on. Instead of spoken and slapped. So, my mom grew not to tell people things.

I was forcing her into changes towards the end and I wanted changes but my mom couldn’t take the stress of me adding the mental strain of me wanting to know about the past, her stressful present, & the future which involved crossroads.. the apartment she lived in foreclosing a week after she passed.

My relationship with her continues. Before the Hunter’s moon I scattered seashells around the fire, seashells she picked, and burnt things that maybe my brothers tried to take from me, things of my dad’s, my mom’s.. I didn’t wish for anything.. just let go. A rainstorm happened that night and lasted til morning. Thunder and lightning in Vermont’s green mountains. When I awoke, the fireplace still smoked.

I read it as the memories remained bht the space and weight had lifted like the smoke that made it through rain, still rising.. but I am sorry climate change, those 1970s - 80s materials were plastic.

Well, if you read this far.. I’ll tell you my name is Jordyn, my familiar is Calcifer.

My father, born 1951, Senior Class of ‘69 New Bedford High School, youngest and favorite son to my Nana.. was always a free-spirited rebel, the stoner smartass, Woodstock attendee, an intelligent man with a taste for the finer things in life but his friendships were truly something I only now think on.. he was a loyal guy who could calm the room, lighten the mood, and lived the life of a hippy but was p much also a townie from what I’ve gathered after his passing.

I never wanted to be in America.. I didn’t understand life here as a child. My parents lived life the way they wanted to, so I did, too. I tried at least. poorer beginnings but in actuality when it came to family, I had everyone. So much love. My brother, Justin, spent his time trying to achieve that same consistency of attention and by doing so would purposefully abuse me.

He was my mum’s favorite. Me my Dad’s only daughter and only favorite, but my mom had time and patience with me they didn’t as children. Their own scars.. exaggerated by years of dwelling, anger, shame. Themes I’ve been trying to escape.

My family always told me that my desire to leave was running from problems when I was just doing what I had to.. which was to leave the city of New Bedford and live a life of freedom and love. But they died 2000 & 2017 both weeks apart and before their birthdays. So how the fuck do I live this life and become the child who succeeds and honors you.. I know you’ll come back for me one day.

This is why I am doing van life.. it’s more of a way into the world, out of my comfort zone, and just who the fuck I am. i am a free loving girl who worked in the travel industry and now i’m not wasting anymore time. There are too many people out there, too many places, and the place or places, I will become part of whatever my destiny is with the foundation and growth from where I came from and hopefully give back. When i can make a career out of something creative.

Here’s a start to my van life blog. I will post how I got the van and my journies thus far. This is a history of where I came from based on self-awareness and analysis of my parents influence on me and hopefully 🙏 when you look back and think of your parents in whatever mood that you’re in, that you still feel free to be their child and continue healing and forgiving your relationships for whatever you may feel made it difficult for you living and even more difficult for you leaving. And if their alive, I hope you think whatever tf you want, they’re your parents.

Til next time.

Jordyn