One thing I don’t think I’d really thought about before moving into the van was how other people would react.
Making the decision myself was one thing.
Telling the people closest to me was something else entirely.
Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have been surprised.
Most people hear the words “I’m moving into a van” and immediately assume something has gone wrong.
That I’d lost my home.
That I couldn’t afford anywhere to live.
That life had somehow fallen apart.
The reality was that all those assumptions were partly true. My marriage had ended, and I was – for all intents and purposes – Homeless.
I was also making a conscious decision to change the direction my life was heading. I never really got used to living in someone elses space. There was always a niggling feeling that something could go wrong, which it inevitably did.
That didn’t mean everyone immediately understood it.
My mum’s reaction was probably the one I expected most.
She worried.
That’s what mums do.
She wasn’t worried because she thought I was making a foolish decision.
She worried because I was her son, and I was choosing to live in a van heading into a British winter.
Would I be warm enough?
Would I be safe?
Would I be alright living on my own?
How would i avoid being ill?
They were all perfectly reasonable questions.
If our roles had been reversed, I’d probably have been asking exactly the same things.
My sister’s reaction was slightly different.
She was supportive, but I think she was also curious.
Like most people, she’d never known anyone who had chosen to live in a van.
There were lots of questions.
How would I cook?
Where would I shower?
What about electricity?
Where would I park?
The more we talked about it, the more people began to realise that this wasn’t me simply throwing a mattress in the back of a van and hoping for the best.
I’d thought it through.
I had a plan.
It might not have been a conventional plan, but it was still a plan.
Outside of my immediate family though, I kept things fairly quiet.
That wasn’t because I was ashamed of it.
It was because I didn’t really want to spend every conversation explaining or defending my decision.
People are naturally sceptical of things they haven’t experienced.
Some would think I was mad.
Some would assume I was struggling financially.
Others would simply not understand why anyone would voluntarily choose this lifestyle.
And to be honest, I wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval.
The only opinion that really mattered was my own.
If the plan worked, fantastic.
If it didn’t, that would be my responsibility too.
There was another reason I kept it quiet.
At the time, I wasn’t completely sure it would work myself.
It’s difficult to confidently explain a decision to other people when you’re still asking yourself the same questions.
Would I cope with winter?
Would I miss having a house?
Would I still think this was a good idea in six months’ time?
I genuinely didn’t know.
Looking back, I think that uncertainty actually helped.
It stopped me trying to convince other people.
Instead, I focused on proving it to myself.
Over time, something interesting happened.
The van stopped being the unusual thing.
It just became home.
The questions became less frequent.
The curiosity settled down.
Life carried on.
If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s that people will always have opinions when you choose a different path.
Most of those opinions aren’t unkind.
They’re simply based on what that person knows.
If you’ve spent your whole life believing that a home has to be bricks and mortar, then of course living in a van sounds strange.
A few years ago, I’d probably have thought the same.
Today, I see it differently.
The van isn’t the destination.
It’s simply the vehicle—quite literally—that’s helping me reach the life I’m working towards.
Not everyone has to understand that.
I just have to believe it myself.
