Houseless By Choice: The Judgment is Real, On Both Sides, Karen

houseless

I have recently learned that upper class citizens think being houseless is a disgrace. Much of this story is being left out to protect the not so nice people as they are prominent and wealthy and I’m not one to cancel someone, regardless of the reason. Further, this particular woman has children, no need for them to suffer more. Suffice it to say there was a situation that was blown so far out of the water that 99.99% of the story is false and a total fabrication, eluding to mental illness or drug use or serious trauma. A necessary fabrication no doubt to escalate the absolutely mundane situation, but the reach and the lies … not normal, even in a world filled with Karen’s.

But none of that matters, at least not to me because after the initial shock I blew it off, and thought, “poor woman”, she has to actually live with herself. And then I started wondering if her husband and children were always in damage control mode as her daughter was on this particular day, which naturally made me feel compassion. And then, before the end of the day, I’d actually forgotten the entire thing. Until I, for some inane reason, I recalled her reference to us as “those people”. Like in the middle of the night I suddenly sat up and was horrified by it.

“They are homeless/living out of their RV and we want nothing to do with those people”.

Harsh, el richo. El entitled-o, mean spirited, lying lady. I’m embarrassed to admit that I let this fester in my brain. I gave her ninja powers to take up residence and drip thoughts into my head and heart. I actually allowed her words to propel me across the state to look at houses, that while we could “afford” them on paper, were not anything we want to be strapped to for the next however many years. But, I wanted to prove to her, not that she’d ever know because we actually have nothing to do with her or her family, or more rightly so, I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t “those people”. I let this go on in my head for nearly one week. I know, shame on me.

Then I expressed to Dan my dismay because he never ever allows anyone any power over him at all, so I knew he’d talk me down from this ledge.  He talked me down from Steamboat and Breckenridge and Aspen (pipe dream) and he talked me down in this. He said, and I’m paraphrasing because he spoke for what seemed like 20 hours. “We are those people. She said nothing untrue. We are homeless and living in an RV, albeit by choice and temporarily, but that is factually true. We are the people she outwardly has disdain for. She has probably never had a callous, her husband’s hands have never been stained from hard manual labor. They choose to have high powered professions. They also choose to leave the raising of their children to others. They don’t appear to have God in their lives. They choose money and prominence in society over all else. And I don’t want much to do with ‘those people’.”

Yep, mic drop. While Dan was categorically wrong on all accounts about something today, which I will write about in this series, I promise, he was spot on regarding “those people”. Something in me allowed for the offense I felt at being referred to as “those people”. As psychiatry is not my forte’ and I really feel no need to delve into the why’s and inevitably end up blaming my mother, as all adults do, as well as the fact that I am not a person easily offended and am not PC, I’ll just call it a momentary lapse of reason on my part.

I have met dozens of judgmental people, hoardes of Karen’s and unhappy, nosy unapproving people. The reason as to why I allowed this particular unhinged/unstable individual get under my skin will remain a mystery. On the whole, I do not let other people define me. I don’t live by what other people believe to be the way. I have never been someone who runs around seeking the approval of others. I have always had the courage to listen to my heart and forge my own way.

In reality, I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. Right now is a time I will never get back. We are legit nomads, adventuring our way through life. We are living the gypsy life and in all honesty it’s everything it’s cracked up to be and more.  The only reason we are entertaining the thought of buying property is that we are entering a new stage and we want our family to remain close. While we still have 6 young kids, two others are married, and a third is engaged. We want a homestead. I want to be a mom and wife, a grandma and a homesteader. If this desire didn’t trump the desire to be free and roam the world, I wouldn’t consider a house an integral part of our future.

So, I guess deep down, I am the dirt bag kayaker, free roaming, homeless (I prefer houseless, it’s the PC version these days you haughty gal you), dirt biker, adventurer that she thinks I am. And I’m not only good with that, I’m actually proud of the life we have built, the kids we have raised, and our faith in our Savior will forever be our guiding light. I am thrilled for my kids that they get a real education, that they learn outside four walls, that they have the ability to identify their passions and follow them, that they are protected, that they get to be kids and have a real childhood. That they are truly unstoppable.

Thanks for reading my blog. I’m trying something a little new here. Just a series of true stories, the good, the bad and the ugly that we encounter out here in the real world. Have any of you nomad’s gone through this experience? I thought we were over this, it’s been 9 years of nearly fulltime RVing. I guess only recently did we flip and sell our house so it’s the first time we are actually without the knowledge that we do, indeed, have a residence.

 

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