Thank you, pandemic!

My life was standard. I was sharing an apartment with three other roommates. The apartment was in a middle-class section on the southside of town with quick access to nearby shops and food. I had two cars. One I had purchased about seven years back and had paid off a couple years ago. The other I still had a lien on which required me to maintain full coverage insurance.

I had a decent paying job for the city as a city bus driver. There was a pension and good health benefits. We had a union that did nice things for us. I could retire after 24 years of service if I wanted to make bus driving my career. I got approved for two major credit cards. I had spent the last four years building back my credit after some hardships. It feels nice when the masters of our economy learn to trust you again.

I graduated college finally. I had made the decision four years ago to go back and finish what I had started. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. I believed new doors would open for me or I could pursue advancement at my current job. I started a non-profit. I wanted to give back to the community and solicited help from some good friends to make it happen. We decided to do something for kids in after school programs.

I began dating again and even had a crush on a guy. I eventually became unshy to make sure he knew. There was so much about our occasional interactions that led me to believe that he might like me too.

There was so much about my life for any outsider looking in to smile about. I seem to think that many Americans out there would be satisfied if handed this existence. I know some non-Americans that would kill for this “standard” life. But there was one problem with all if it; I began to feel empty inside, truly empty, and it made me not want any of it.

The pandemic did something to me as it did many people. With its quarantines and stay-at-home orders, I began to discover some qualities about myself that I never knew existed. First, I value my space from other people and almost crave isolation. I found it liberating to be to myself with my own thoughts. I only desired occasional human interaction.

The second thing I learned about myself is that I don’t like restrictions to my freedom of movement. I wasn’t too keen on curfews and being told to stay at home. In fact, during the pandemic, I had a strong desire to be outside. I recall dragging my roommates out to a nature preserve and for a drive by the lake.

The pandemic put everything on hold. The car payments were on hold. The rent payments were on hold. The credit card payments were on hold. Jobs were on hold. Nonprofits were on hold. Everything was on hold. And when the pandemic geared toward its finale, and life resumed, I wasn’t ready to go back. It wasn’t like a vacation, where you relax for a week, go back to work, and then long for your next break. This was a pause that lasted well over a year plus. It made a vacation into a lifestyle; a lifestyle I fell in love with. And I became empty inside when forced to go back.

The older I get, the less tolerant I am of everyday stressors. There was nothing less stressful to me than the pandemic pause. I did not realize just how stressful my “standard” living was until it was time to go back. And so I made a command decision to change it all.

I put together a plan that would allow me to resume a post-pandemic life but mimic the pandemic pause. I decided to become a truck driver. With the shortage of truck drivers currently, it didn’t take long before I was booked for orientation.

I wanted the freedom to tour the open road and see parts of the country I’ve been completely oblivious to. I wanted to distance myself from the hustle and bustle of “standard” living. I rid myself of a rent payment and instead give a little cash wherever I am during my home time. I sold my cars and dissolved myself of that wicked full coverage insurance requirement. I paid off most of my credit cards. I still owe on a couple of them and that’s ok. I cancelled my monthly memberships to the gym and other places that I would no longer be needing. I downsized my existence, throwing away or giving away furniture, clothing, or other items I no longer needed or used. Outside of a cellphone payment, a credit card or two, and some student loans, I have no bills. It feels amazing.

Technology is a blessing for truck drivers. Internet access and better handheld devices in today’s world make life on the road tolerable. I can continue to advance the nonprofit I started. I can do so inside my truck from my laptop. I have an event in Charlotte coming up in May. I’ve been accepted to grad school, and thanks to the program’s alternative icourse internet classes, I can attend while working over the road. I might be one of the very few if not the only truck driver attending graduate school while inside the truck, but I’m going to prove that it can be done. I aim to buy a townhouse in either Arizona or Nevada at some point, but that is still some time away.

There’s a line from the movie Titanic I love so much. Leonardo Dicaprio’s character says, “Right now my address is the RMS Titanic. After that I’m on God’s good humor.” Then he says, “I’ve got everything I need right here with me. I’ve got air in my lungs and few sheets of blank paper.” I feel like this is me now. Thank you, pandemic!