- Embarking on a solo road trip in a camper van, I began my journey in San Diego.
- During this adventure, I embraced the opportunity to read, journal, and practice yoga in the great outdoors.
- While on the road, I came to a profound realization about my queerness and made the decision to end my marriage.
“You’re not gay; you just hate men.”
Our marriage counselor’s simple statement echoed in my mind, seemingly obvious to everyone except myself. For weeks, it plagued me like an uncomfortable sweater I couldn’t remove.
After that, my husband and I decided to take a break from marriage counseling and give each other some space. Though we still loved each other, we couldn’t ignore the truth: I needed to end our marriage and embrace my queerness.
To begin this transformative journey, I purchased a newly renovated Sprinter van and set off from San Diego. In solitude, I confronted the challenges and revelations that lay ahead. It was just me, the open road, and that metaphorical itchy sweater. Along the way, I found the strength to bring my marriage to a definitive close.
Embracing the Solo Van Life in San Diego
Traveling alone wasn’t unfamiliar territory for me or our marriage. Throughout our ten-year relationship, I frequently took short trips to sunny destinations, returning refreshed and ready to face whatever came next. My husband always supported me, understanding the importance of self-care.
However, I had reached a point of stagnation in my life. I felt trapped in my home, my marriage, and my own sense of identity. Despite attempting various coping mechanisms, including therapy, hobbies, and medication, I found myself at rock bottom. Desperate for change, I boarded a plane to San Diego with multiple medications and therapy appointments in my future.
That first night, I parked my van along the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the magnificent ocean. It was an exhilarating yet unsettling experience. Finally, I embarked on the journey that previously existed only on Pinterest and Instagram. But at what cost? My safety? My marriage? Perhaps both?
The following morning, I woke up to crashing waves on one side and passing cars on the other, with a parking ticket awaiting me on the windshield. I brewed a cup of coffee and immersed myself in journaling and reading, basking in the freedom and possibilities that lay ahead.
“You’re not gay; you just hate men,” I wrote in my journal, once again confronted by that lingering itch.
As the days passed, I gradually acclimated to van life. I sought out remote locations off the beaten path, where I could journal, read, and practice yoga amid the serenity of nature.
During my journey back home, I continually deviated from the direct route, extending my trip by an additional week. It was during the second week, deep within an Arizona forest, that I began to ask myself the difficult questions.
Uncovering Questions of Identity in the Depths of Arizona
Do I genuinely despise men, or am I gay?
I meticulously traced back the timeline of my life, examining each past relationship. There was my first high-school boyfriend, my abusive high-school sweetheart, and various college boyfriends with their own complexities. And then, there was her.
We initially met while I was bartending during graduate school. From friends, we eventually became something more. Yet, I chose to deny the truth of our connection.
It began with occasional make-out sessions under the influence. Soon, our relationship transcended platonic boundaries, and she even moved in next door. We shared work, travel, and an abundance of free time. Despite being willing, I began to feel overwhelmed, dismissing our bond and finding a reason to end our friendship. Eventually, she moved out, and we pursued separate paths.
In my van, I spent days revisiting these memories, dissecting them with a fresh perspective. Had my true nature been hidden all along? Was I gay?
Unable to ignore the truth, and with a simple Google search that confirmed my suspicions, I spent the latter half of my trip overwhelmed by tears. I grappled with sadness, anger, and confusion. How did I miss the signs for so long? Why did it take me this much time to realize my own identity? Reflecting on the past was easy, but the real challenge lay ahead: returning home to share my newfound truth with the husband I still loved.
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