What Really Changes Your Life (It’s Not the Van)

Wherever You Go, There You Are

The idea of trying to run away from your life is very common. I’ve tried this numerous times myself, but alas, no matter where you go, your problems follow. The only way to be rid of whatever is haunting you is to turn around and face it head on. It’s not easy, and it’s often painful, but it’s the only way out.

Thinking we’ll be happy if we have a different job, live in a different place, or move into a van is false thinking. I receive a lot of comments and questions from people asking how living in a van has changed me. The truth is, living in a van hasn’t changed me — I changed myself. Living in a van and being able to greatly reduce my work hours gave me the time to work on myself and make changes. Van life isn’t an option for everyone, so I want to offer a few suggestions that anyone can use to find inner peace and face what haunts them.

Getting out in nature
My style of van life involves being in nature as much as possible. I can safely say this has been the number one thing that has brought me peace. There is something about nature that helps me connect with my true self, brings me back to my essential being, and helps me feel connected to the universe. I found it easier to face my reality and feel suppressed pain while surrounded by the magic of the Australian bush.

Meditation
I had been meditating for several years before moving into a van, and even five minutes in the morning can help me manage my thoughts throughout the day. I choose guided meditations because the words of wisdom resonate with me long after the session ends. There is research showing that meditation can improve emotional regulation, enhance cognitive ability, and counteract age-related changes. Meditation actually makes physical changes in your brain. This has to be one of the simplest ways to create the changes you want to see in your life.

Questioning my thoughts and reactions
Through meditation, I noticed increased awareness of my thoughts and reactions. The book I have written — and hope to publish before the year ends — takes you through eight months of my thought process as I began questioning everything and making lasting changes in my behaviour. Just because you think something doesn’t mean it’s true. Start questioning your beliefs. Question how society has conditioned you to behave a certain way. Question your thoughts — are they really yours, or has someone else put them there?

This blog is a little different to what I normally write, but I try to write what I feel needs to be written. I hope this helps you on your own journey toward inner peace and joy. I wish everyone could feel what I feel — a calmness I never knew was possible. A knowing that everything is as it should be.

Peace be with you.

Are there moments in your life where you’ve tried to “outrun” something?

What small step could you take this week to turn toward — rather than away from — what needs attention?

Energy — A Gift to Be Treasured

Your energy is a gift to be nourished and treasured. Without energy, we are unable to perform tasks to the best of our ability, to be creative, or to support others when they need us. Our energy is so important, yet we often neglect it.

I know the things that support my energy — good nutrition, eating whole foods, getting 120g of protein a day, 7–9 hours of sleep each night, moving my body and using my muscles, interacting with content people, spending time in nature, meditating, cuddles with Abby, resting my mind and body, taking breaks throughout the day from mentally challenging tasks, avoiding extreme hot or cold weather, and taking creatine with each meal.

This is a list I’ve been putting together over the last few years. Some things I’ve learned through research, and many through trial and error. One thing that stays consistent is this: when I don’t take care of my energy, I can’t do all the things I enjoy. My motivation drops, my creativity fades, and I struggle to enjoy life. I begin existing instead of living.

I’m not perfect — I’m human. Sometimes I let my energy drop. Sometimes I put others’ needs before my own. Sometimes I act like a spoilt child and do things I know are detrimental. Sometimes I just can’t be bothered. But whenever I behave that way, I lose my zest for life, and that’s not how I want to live.

I always pick myself back up and do what I need to do to get my energy back. I’m getting better at not slipping, but some things are simply out of our control.

I’ve once again restored my energy after another dip. I woke up this morning excited for the day — excited to create, to spend time with friends, and to see what today has in store for me.

Do you respect your energy? Are you excited about life? What can you do differently today to get your life back on track and put some joy back into your day?

When Creativity Needs a Pause

After three months of consistently creating videos, I’ve now had a two-week break. In that time, I’ve also travelled over 4,000 kilometres across Australia — quite the epic adventure! My mind and body were craving a pause — time to rest, reset, and prepare for whatever comes next.

Being creative is a wonderful thing, but like all things in life, sometimes you need space to breathe so you can remember why you create. What it is that draws you back to the canvas, the camera, the page. How you want to show up going forward.

Creative work takes a surprising amount of energy and focus. It’s easy to get swept up in the rhythm of making and not realise how much it takes out of you — until you stop.

Do you ever find yourself creating simply because you feel you should, rather than from joy or inspiration? Do you give yourself permission to rest before you burn out? It’s tempting to believe we should just keep going, no matter what — but I’m learning that’s not sustainable.

I’m honouring my need for rest, trusting that by doing so, I’ll return with renewed energy and clarity. When I give myself this time, I’m able to create in a way that feels honest, meaningful, and joyful again.

So this week’s reminder is simple:

Take time to rest and restore. You deserve it — and your creativity will thank you for it.

When was the last time you gave yourself full permission to rest?

How do you know when your creative energy needs replenishing?

Getting Out of My Comfort Zone

In the past week, I’ve travelled through areas I’ve never been before — and it’s been uncomfortable.

After five years on the road, you’d think I’d have seen it all, but there are still routes I haven’t taken and landscapes that feel unfamiliar. Every now and then, I have the urge to turn around, head somewhere I know, and settle into what feels safe. But I’ve learned that comfort doesn’t always mean growth.

Being uncomfortable stretches me. It teaches me acceptance — acceptance of new places, shifting plans, and the unknown. Some days, the weather has thrown everything off and I’ve had to adapt on the go. Yet within that flexibility, I’ve found freedom.

Each time I lean into uncertainty instead of resisting it, I rediscover the quiet confidence that comes from trusting myself. I remind myself that discomfort is temporary — it passes, and soon enough I’ll find myself back in familiar territory, with familiar faces and familiar rhythms.

But growth? Growth happens right here — just beyond comfort.
Life happens there too.

So if you’re standing on the edge of something new, maybe a little unsure, take the step anyway. You can do it. Try it and see what happens.

When was the last time you stepped beyond your comfort zone?
What did you learn about yourself in that moment?

Trusting the rhythm

This week reminded me how easy it is to doubt myself — even when everything is quietly working.

The universe kindly reinforced that I’m on the right path. Two pieces of artwork sold, the Nullarbor video I spent hours editing received an amazing response, and my creative rhythm returned the moment I went back to following my schedule.

For a while, I thought progress meant constant effort. But this week, life reminded me that alignment and trust create their own kind of momentum.

I’d started to feel tired again. Everything felt like a struggle, like I was pushing uphill. I had drifted away from the schedule that had worked so well — moving things around because I “didn’t feel like it.” But that flexibility quickly turned into resistance. I lost my rhythm, the flow I’d worked so hard to create.

The moment I returned to what worked — my steady schedule, slower travel rhythm, and focus on art and reflection — everything began to flow again.

It’s funny how life reflects back what we’re ready to see. The moment I stopped questioning, the signs appeared everywhere — in my art, my energy, and even in the calm I felt doing ordinary things.

Painting felt lighter.
Walks and nature moments restored presence.
Feedback from my audience felt aligned.

I used to think freedom meant doing what I wanted when I felt like it. Now I see that real freedom comes from the structure that supports what I love.

Sticking to my schedule grounded me, made creativity easier, and restored my trust in myself.

Trust doesn’t mean knowing exactly where the path leads — it means walking it with faith in your direction.

The truth is, I don’t need to know how everything will unfold. I just need to stay aligned — with my work, my rhythm, and my integrity. That’s what keeps me on the right track.

Wherever you are on your journey, trust that your path is unfolding exactly as it should. Even when progress feels slow, the quiet signs are there — reminding you that you’re already moving in the right direction.

Where in your life do you feel out of rhythm — and what small step could bring you back into flow?

What does “freedom” mean to you right now — doing whatever you want, or supporting what you love with structure?

The Worth of Creative Work

For a long time, I carried an old belief that it was somehow bad to make money from creativity.
That creative work wasn’t “real work.”

It’s a quiet story I didn’t even realise I’d been telling myself — one that whispered that art should be done for love alone, and that earning from it somehow diluted its purity. But this week, in a conversation with a fellow artist, that belief began to unravel.

We talked about how creative work is, in fact, some of the most real work there is.
It takes discipline, courage, and emotional honesty. It asks you to show up, heart first, even when no one is watching. It demands that you keep learning, keep creating, and keep trusting that what you make has value — even before the world confirms it.

Earning from creative work doesn’t cheapen it. It sustains it.
Money is simply energy — a form of exchange that allows me to keep creating and sharing, to buy paint, fuel the van, and keep doing the work that lights me up.

Of course, it’s easy to slip into comparison. To look at others chasing numbers or measuring success differently and wonder if you’re doing it wrong. But I realised that my discomfort wasn’t judgment — it was discernment.
I value authenticity over performance, and that’s what my intuition was pointing to.

Everyone’s path is different.
Someone else’s intensity or ambition doesn’t invalidate mine; it simply shows that we’re walking different routes at different stages of growth.

This week reminded me that authenticity and ambition can coexist — but ambition needs to be guided by integrity, not ego. My goal isn’t to chase success. It’s to live in alignment and let success unfold as a reflection of that.

I can honour both rest and work, presence and progress — because this creative life is real work, and it’s deeply worth it.

Have you ever felt torn between creativity and making a living from it?

What beliefs have you carried about what “real work” means — and are they still serving you?

The Quiet Compass: Living with Integrity

There’s a quiet kind of discomfort that comes with doing what’s right.
It’s not dramatic — it’s that small twist in your chest that says, this doesn’t sit right with me.

Recently, I felt that again. A bookkeeping client made choices that didn’t align with my values. It wasn’t my responsibility to fix it, yet I carried the tension. For years, I’ve stepped in to smooth things over, but this time, I stopped myself. I reminded myself that my integrity lies in how I do my work — not in taking on what isn’t mine.

It wasn’t easy. Integrity rarely is.
But I’ve learned that discomfort doesn’t mean I’m doing something wrong — it often means I’m doing what’s right.

For a long time, I thought integrity meant doing everything perfectly — never missing a step, never letting anyone down. Now I see it differently. Integrity is alignment — matching what I believe with how I act.

When I stand in alignment, I may not please everyone, but I feel at peace. And that calm is worth far more than comfort or approval.

Living and working on the road has made this lesson even clearer. There’s no neat line between life and work anymore — they blend into one continuous flow. Whether I’m painting, editing a video, or managing a client’s books, I can feel when I’m out of sync. Integrity shows up in the small things: where I park, how I spend my time, what I say yes to.

Sometimes it means saying, “I’ll do this, but within my limits.” Other times, it means trusting that I don’t need to fix everything.

Integrity runs through creativity, too. It’s in painting what feels true instead of what sells, and in writing honestly, even when it’s uncomfortable. When I create from that place, everything flows easier — the work feels lighter, clearer, more me.

Choosing integrity means choosing freedom — the freedom of not carrying what isn’t yours. It’s the peace of knowing you’re living in alignment with what matters most.

Each time I choose honesty over ease, I feel more connected to the life I’m building. Integrity has become my quiet compass — guiding me in work, art, and life on the road.
It doesn’t need to shout. It simply points me back to what feels right.

When was the last time you felt that quiet nudge that something wasn’t right — and listened to it?

Creative Living Isn’t Linear

When I first set out to build a creative life, I thought it might follow a neat, upward path. Do the work, stay consistent, and things will naturally expand. And yes, there’s truth in that. But what I’ve discovered is that creative living isn’t linear at all — it’s more like a spiral.

Last week was a perfect example. One day I felt completely in flow — walking the coastal sculpture trail, filming along the way, enjoying the process of being both present and creative at the same time. The next day I spent hours editing, and while the video came together beautifully, it felt more structured, more effort than flow. Later in the week, creativity showed up in unexpected forms: a simple morning sketch, or even half an hour of admin that cleared space in my head for the next project.

Even the smallest moments taught me something. Stopping for lunch with ocean views reminded me that presence fuels creativity as much as output does. A hot shower after a week without one felt like pure joy — not “productive” in the usual sense, but deeply nourishing. And on the flip side, pushing too hard with video work left me drained, while poor food choices reminded me how much energy and creativity are connected.

This is the spiral. I circle back to the same lessons: honouring my energy, balancing structure with flow, learning when to push and when to pause. Some days I nail it, some days I don’t — but none of it is wasted. Each loop widens the circle, showing me that growth often comes in revisiting familiar ground with new awareness.

Creative living isn’t linear. It’s messy, repetitive, beautiful, and alive. And maybe that’s the point — not to move in a straight line, but to keep circling back, learning a little more each time, and trusting that the spiral is carrying me exactly where I need to go.

A perfect moment in time

A Perfect Moment in Time

How often do we pause long enough to notice when life feels… perfect?

Right now, in this very moment, my life feels complete. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, I’m surrounded by quiet bushland at a free campsite, and Abby is curled up peacefully after yesterday’s long drive. Nothing more is needed.

So, I stop. I breathe it in. How does it feel? What do I hear? What scents are in the air? What little details are before my eyes? I let myself be fully here, soaking it in so I can carry it with me. Later, when I need a moment of peace, I’ll be able to return to this memory like a gentle touchstone.

We often spend our lives wishing for moments like these, but when they arrive, it’s easy to miss them—our minds racing ahead, wishing they’d last forever. But that’s not their nature. Moments shift, seasons change. This one will end, just as all do.

And that’s okay. Because the beauty of life isn’t in holding on—it’s in noticing, savoring, and trusting that there will be more. More sunshine, more quiet evenings, more perfect moments waiting to surprise us if only we pause long enough to notice them.

Life isn’t about clinging to what is fleeting. It’s about living fully in what is here, right now.

When was the last time you paused to notice a perfect moment?

Living Beyond the “What If’s”

What If???

“What if you get sick? What if you break a leg? What if you can’t live in a van anymore? What about when you get old? What about when you’re 80?”

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had some wonderful conversations with women further along in life’s journey. And more than once, these conversations have been sprinkled with “What if’s.” I also see them often in the comments under my YouTube videos.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how society has taught us to look at aging with fear instead of curiosity, and at new paths with suspicion rather than excitement? Why is it that we’re so quick to imagine everything that could go wrong, instead of everything that could go right?

What if we have the adventure of a lifetime?
What if we feel a freedom we’ve never felt before?
What if we let ourselves be happy?
What if we simply live — really live — and experience all that life has to offer?

Yes, you can play it safe. You can surround yourself with comfort, predictability, and security. But you can also choose to stretch your boundaries, take chances, and discover the magic that only exists outside your comfort zone.

For me, choosing the latter has changed my life. Writing this blog didn’t come naturally at first — I had to be uncomfortable with putting my thoughts into the world until one day, it became second nature. Living in my van also felt strange at first, but now it feels like home.

The truth is, I’ll deal with the “what if’s” when they happen. So far, the good “what if’s” have far outweighed the scary ones. And as long as I’m breathing, I intend to keep saying yes to them — because life is meant to be lived, experienced, and enjoyed.

Are you holding yourself back because of a “what if”? Or are you ready to lean into possibility and see what unfolds?

Believe in Yourself: The Leap of Faith That Changed My Week

Believe in Yourself

The idea for today’s blog came as I was driving through beautiful rolling hills and forests. My thoughts drifted to how I’ve felt this week—what has been driving my actions, how I keep going, and why I continue to try new things and challenge myself.

It all comes down to one thing: I believe in myself.

Actually, it’s more specific than that—I believe in my ability to figure things out.

This week I flipped my schedule upside down. For the first time ever, I prioritized creativity during the day and moved my work into the evenings. I had never even considered this before. It goes against everything we were taught growing up: work first, play later.

But what if I play first?

Would the work still get done?

It turns out, not only did I finish everything, but I discovered something unexpected. With Abby sleeping peacefully in the evenings, I had uninterrupted time to work. The focus was easier, the flow stronger.

This shift in my schedule felt like a leap of faith—but I took it because I believed in myself. I trusted I could make it work. I trusted I could deal with challenges as they arose. I trusted I could figure it out.

And here’s the beautiful thing: believing in yourself is really an act of self-love. It’s saying, “I’ve got me. I trust me.”

Do you love yourself enough to believe in you? You might be surprised at how amazing you truly are when you do.

Living by Curiosity

Curiosity has always been the thread running through my life. It’s what keeps me trying new things, chasing adventures, and experimenting with different ways to live and be. I’m forever asking myself: What would happen if I tried this? What if I did it differently? What if I didn’t do it at all?

That wondering has never slowed down—in fact, I think I’m more curious now than ever. There are so many possibilities waiting to be explored, and curiosity is what keeps me stepping into them.

Right now, my curiosity is circling around travel and creativity. How will I balance it all when I’m on the move? How will my work get done? How will I film videos, paint, write my book, play with Abby, and still leave space for just being?

Instead of letting those questions overwhelm me, I’m choosing to treat them as an experiment. For the next three weeks, I’ll be testing out a new rhythm. At the end, I’ll evaluate—keep what works, let go of what doesn’t, and adjust again if needed.

That’s the beauty of curiosity: there’s always another path, another option, another way forward. It’s less about having the perfect plan and more about staying open to discovery.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it’s what keeps me truly alive.

When was the last time you let curiosity guide your next step?

Life isn’t that serious

A lot of the joy I experience in life comes from my ability to laugh at myself. I don’t take myself too seriously — and I definitely don’t take life too seriously.

In my latest video, I shared the process of painting the ceiling in my van. I had so much fun doing it, even though it’s nowhere near finished. In fact, it will probably go through many changes before I decide on something I really like. But here’s the point: I just gave it a go, without worrying about how it would turn out.

It’s only paint — if I don’t like it, I can always paint over it. That’s the beauty of it. It’s not that serious. Most things in life aren’t.

The same is true in everyday life. Just yesterday, I stepped out of the van with Abby for a walk, and the moment my feet hit the ground, the heavens opened up and it poured with rain. I couldn’t help but laugh — I was already drenched, so why fight it? Sometimes the best thing you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the moment and keep going.

If you mess up, laugh and move on. If you do something that feels embarrassing, laugh and move on. Lightening up can bring so much joy back into life. Ask yourself: is it really that important?

Does the color of my ceiling really matter? No — it’s just a ceiling. What matters most is that it’s my ceiling, and the only opinion that counts is mine.

So, how about you? Do you laugh at yourself when things don’t go as planned, or do you criticize yourself? Do you try new things without worrying if they’ll be perfect? Do you ever do something purely for the fun of it?

✨ Share a moment in the comments where you laughed at yourself or turned a “messy” situation into joy — I’d love to hear your stories.

Life is not that serious.

Staying Present While Planning the Future

This week has been about walking that fine line between being in the present and planning for the future. It’s not always easy to do.

Right now, I’m tying up the last of the loose ends and appointments I need before setting off on a big trip across Australia. It’s exciting to think about, and my mind naturally wants to race ahead to what’s coming next. But in that rush toward the future, it’s easy to forget what’s here now.

We often think happiness lives in the future — that once we’ve reached that trip, that dream, that milestone, then we’ll finally feel content. But the truth is, the future doesn’t really exist. The only place we ever actually live is here, in this moment.

And sometimes this moment isn’t what we want it to be. It might feel uncomfortable, or dull, or not where we’d rather be. But resisting it doesn’t change it — it only creates tension. The more we can accept it, the more we can find gratitude for something within it, the more peaceful we become.

The future may hold adventures we’ve dreamed of for years. But right now, this moment is our life.

So I ask you:
✨ What can you enjoy now?
✨ What are you grateful for in this very moment?

Because this — not the future — is where your life is happening.

Freedom in the Flow – How My Calendar Helped Me Let Go of Guilt

We are all seeking balance in our lives. We want to feel we have enough time to do the things we want to do while still attending to the things we have to do.

I’ve been searching for that balance for as long as I can remember — and I think I’ve finally found it.

One thing I’ve learned is that balance isn’t static. It’s flexible, like a see-saw, tipping one way and then the other. Every day, week, and month will never be exactly the same, and that’s okay.

The real shift for me came when I created a schedule that not only worked with my natural rhythms but also allowed for flexibility. This was something I had never included before.

Previously, I would have every hour of every day scheduled. If I needed to add something in or something didn’t get done at its designated time, I would panic and shut down. Often, I’d end up scrolling endlessly on my phone, achieving nothing.

Now, I have built-in flexibility — free afternoons to schedule what’s important that week or carry over tasks from the week before. I even have a buffer day to catch up on small things.

Because of this new schedule — and the fact that it works — I no longer feel guilty when I choose to do something relaxing, even if there’s something else my mind thinks is “more important.” Everything has its time and place, and I’ve proven to myself that the important things will get done.

This change didn’t happen overnight. It’s taken daily reflection, small adjustments, and a willingness to listen to my own energy. But it’s all been worth it.

Life has never been better. I’m doing all the things I love, at a pace that feels good, and for the first time in a long time… I feel balanced.

Creative flow and gentle progress

This past week, something beautiful has happened — things are starting to feel... normal.

Waking up to sketch, writing blog posts, responding to emails, painting during the day, even keeping on top of admin — it no longer feels like something I’m trying to do. It feels like something I do. This is my creative life now, and it fits.

I’ve learned a lot about pacing myself over the past few weeks. I don’t have to push to prove I’m committed. I just have to show up consistently and honour my energy. I’ve rearranged my weekly rhythm to reflect that — two full creative days, three admin sessions, and space to rest and reset.

This week, I released my very first newsletter (finally!) and was blown away by the kind responses. The last bookmark sold just hours after it went out. I’ve since uploaded four new original artworks and a set of five handmade cards to the shop. My collection is slowly growing, and each piece brings a little more colour and joy into the world.

Golden Whisper

My inspiration was to bring some summer warmth to a cold winters day,

I’ve also continued my morning sketch game — this week it’s Goats and it’s still just as fun. My midday watercolour reset is turning into a favourite part of the day. A way to switch gears, pause, and breathe.

Simple 15 minute sketch!

No pressure, just create!

That said, I noticed something today that I want to work on. When I have the thought that I should be doing something — like writing a blog post — but don’t feel like doing it in that moment, instead of switching to something I do want to do (like painting), I sometimes end up scrolling on my phone. It’s a mix of guilt and procrastination, and I’m learning to recognize it. Awareness is the first step. I don’t need to force myself — I just need to stay connected to my energy and choose what feels aligned.

Here’s to building a life that feels good on the inside, not just looks good on the outside.

Thanks for being here.

With a creative heart,
Brenna

Do you really not have time?

Last week I wrote about change — how sometimes it’s not a big event but a quiet shift in how we move through the day.

This week I’ve been exploring one of the biggest stories we tell ourselves:

“I don’t have time.”

It’s easy to say we’re too busy for creativity, too tired, too distracted. But is it really true?

I’ve made a conscious choice this past week to stop waiting for the “right time” to create. Instead, I’ve started weaving small creative moments throughout my day — and it’s been wonderful.

Kookaburra sketch

My favourite way to start the day!

My mornings now begin with a lighthearted sketching game (it sounds more fun than calling it a challenge). After my meditation and journaling, I set a 15-minute timer and do a quick sketch — no pressure, no perfection, just presence and play. I even pre-selected reference photos for the week so there’s no thinking involved, just pick up the pencil and go. This week’s subject: kookaburras! And I’ve even got a friend joining in, which makes it even more joyful.

Around lunchtime, I take another 15 minutes for quick watercolour landscapes. Again, it’s not about making a masterpiece — it’s about pausing, playing, and feeling that spark that comes when I’m creating just for the fun of it. It's time I might otherwise spend scrolling.

And the result? I feel more me. More grounded, more energised, more creatively fulfilled.

So I’ll ask you —
Do you really not have time?
Or could you find 15 minutes to reconnect with something that lights you up?

You might be surprised by what comes alive in that space.

“I Hear You, But I’m Not Listening”

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how much our own thoughts can hold us back. As I work toward my creative goals, I’ve had to face the quiet voice that tells me to stop or slow down—and learn how to move forward anyway. Here’s what I’ve discovered…

Change is difficult.

I’ve decided to go after my creative goals and see what I can truly achieve. While I dream about the future, I feel the past trying to hold me back—past habits, past thoughts, past routines.

If I want to move forward, I need to let go of the past. I need to think differently, act differently, and—most importantly—feel differently. To achieve my dreams, I need to feel as if they’ve already happened.

While I work on this, a little voice in my head keeps whispering: “You’re tired, you should stop.” Or “Leave it for tomorrow.” Or “You’ve done enough today, no need to do more.” These thoughts are strong and persuasive, but today I laughed at them and said out loud: “I hear you, but I’m not listening.”

Awareness of these thoughts—and their seductive pull—is the first step to real change.

So, when that little voice says ‘stop,’ smile and take one more step. Your future self is cheering you on.

Finally letting go and moving on.

For the past five years, I’ve been holding onto a storage unit filled with pieces of my “just in case” life. You know the kind—boxes of kitchenware, furniture, exercise equipment, a few sentimental items... things I might need someday.

But someday never came. And I’ve come to realize it probably never will.

This month, I made the decision to let it all go. Everything.

I’m selling what I can, donating the rest, and closing that storage unit door for the last time.

It’s a big breakthrough for me—not just practically, but emotionally. I used to tell myself I was being smart by saving those things. But the truth is, I was clinging to a version of life that no longer fits who I am now.

I live in my van. Everything I need is right here with me. If I ever truly need something again, I’ll find a way to get it. In the meantime, I’ve been carrying the weight—literally and mentally—of things that don’t serve my life anymore.

Letting go has brought a surprising lightness. A sense of freedom I didn’t even know I was craving. It’s not just about the stuff. It’s about giving myself permission to move on.

And as a bonus? I’m generating a bit of income by selling some of the items—and saving $120 a month in storage fees. That’s money I can put toward art supplies or new creative adventures. Now that feels aligned.

Minimalism, for me, isn’t about restriction. It’s about clarity. It’s about living fully with what matters—and letting the rest fall away.

If you’ve been holding onto “just in case,” I get it. Truly. But maybe—just maybe—you already have everything you need.

Here’s to lightening the load.

A new beginning

I’ve been on the road a lot lately, and somewhere along the way, something shifted.

The wide skies, quiet mornings, and long drives gave me the space to hear a voice I hadn’t been listening to closely enough—my own. I realized I want to live differently now. The version of vanlife I used to live doesn’t quite fit anymore. I’m not chasing movement the way I used to; I’m chasing meaning. Creation. Connection.

I want to spend more time making art. More time filming. More time writing blog posts like this. These things aren’t just hobbies anymore—they feel like essential parts of who I’m becoming.

A quiet moment on the road—where new thoughts began to take shape.

And that’s the thing—I am becoming someone new. Or maybe I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be. But stepping into that version of myself means letting go of the old one. Letting go of the way I used to do things. Of patterns, comforts, and habits that no longer serve me.

Change is awkward. There’s no getting around that. But I trust that what feels strange today will one day feel natural—my new normal. This isn’t the first time I’ve redefined myself, and I doubt it will be the last. But something about this moment feels right. It feels like a beginning.

I’ve just launched my website, and with it, a new way to share, connect, and be seen. That’s exciting—and a little scary—but mostly it feels like exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

So if you’re reading this, thank you. You’re witnessing my first step into something new. I hope you’ll stick around for the journey.