I’ve been hustling, recovering, and trying to figure out this chapter of my life for seven months now. And honestly? It’s been one of the hardest periods of my life. I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going. There are so many paths, so many outcomes, that I can’t quite see which one belongs to me.
It’s both beautiful and terrifying to see the future open wide in front of me. There’s freedom in it, sure, but also this heavy feeling of not knowing where any of it leads.
I hurt. I was hurting. And in that pain, I destroyed parts of myself… and others. These days, I’m trying to heal, to make my amends, to make sure I never become that version of myself again. And with that comes this deep need to become something new. To build a future. To have a path that feels like it belongs to me.
My work history is as scattered as my thoughts, bits and pieces of retail, customer service, sales, always centered around people. But lately, a different part of me has been waking up. A part that wants to build something real, something physical.
After a transformative summer in Santa Barbara, I’m not ready for it to end, but as my seasonal job winds down, I can feel the next transition calling. So, I’ve been asking myself: what’s next?
And then, kind of out of nowhere, the thought hit me:
What if I became an RV tech?
I know. It sounds random. But hear me out.
I live in a van. I’ve been slowly modifying Oscar, my ‘91 Dodge, to make him more livable, and it’s been oddly fulfilling. Learning how things work. Fixing what breaks. Figuring out how to make this weird, beautiful, messy lifestyle a little easier.
In a few weeks, I’ll be road-tripping back to Indiana to stay with family for a bit. No work lined up on the coast this winter, and yeah… I’m anxious about it. California van life is stunning, but it’s also expensive. Survival mode has a way of forcing clarity, though.
So, I’ve been looking into trade schools, technical training, and ways to get hands-on experience. Because honestly, it feels kind of amazing to think about having tangible skills, something measurable, something useful. I could help others like me, people living this life full-time, trying to make it work, one repair at a time.
I still love working with people. I love communication, empathy, leadership. But finding management work that doesn’t burn me out has been tough, and maybe that’s a sign to shift directions.
For now, these are just wild ponderings about who I could become, and what I could create. Maybe it’s not my forever path, but it feels like a solid step toward something.
Anywayyyyy, until next time, homies.
— Dylan