The Desert Tarp
You probably know by now, we are out in the Arizona desert living in our half-finished bus with our three kids and four dogs.
Something very unique about living on the road is getting to live in different regions of the country and experience the weather in each one. Growing up in Florida, the weather didn’t vary much. It was almost always hot and it rains every day in the summer. The scariest part of Florida weather is the hurricanes, and I’ve lived through my fair share.
I didn’t leave the state until I was 19 years old, Kyle taking me to visit New York City for the first time. Growing up poor, we rarely took a family vacation. If we did, it was to stay at my grandparents Condo on Anna Maria Island for free.
Once we hit the road in the bus, I began to experience what having all four seasons was like. Being in Florida for most of my life, the seasons weren’t really a thing. We pretty much wore shorts and flip flops all year, minus a couple chilly days where we had to pull out a light sweater.
Allergies were something that didn’t affect me much, until we started buslife.
When we would roll into a new region, I wouldn’t be used to the air there with all the new pollens in it and my sinus cavities would instantly flare up. It’s usually accompanied by a terrible migraine that consumes my entire head. We’ve learned to get local honey as soon as we roll into a new place and begin using it daily.
Typically, when we go back to that place of the allergy flare-up, it’s not as severe the next time. Once I go to a place and stay for a bit, my body gets accustomed to the local allergens and I don’t suffer as badly.
The southwest was somewhere we hadn’t spent much time. This winter we planned to stay in Quartzsite, building out our half-finished bus our builder left us with. With all the chaos of our bus-build-gone-wrong, the weather was the furthest thing from my mind.
As it turns out, the Arizona Desert has dust storms and very arid conditions. The land is dry and barren of any big trees. The saguaro cactus standing tall among gnarled shrubbery and sunsets are a spectacular show, extending across the wide open skies.
Believe it or not as sparse as the landscape is, the desert has its own set of unique allergens that travel by these dust storms.
With money tight, Kyle my partner, is driving Uber in Phoenix while staying in our campervan for a few days a week. Then he makes the over-two-hour drive back down to where we are in Quartzsite. This particular dust storm happened on a day where he was in Phoenix.
It was a little after 7am and I’d heard this big clunking noise outside. When I looked out the window, I was pretty terrified at what I saw.
Several weeks ago, we bought a portable garage from Harbor Freight.
This garage was going to be outdoor storage for us, filling it with things like supplies for building the bus. We anchored it to the ground with eight ratchet straps connected to rebar stakes, driven twenty-four inches in the ground. We assumed it wasn’t going anywhere…
Along came a dust storm, similar to the one today.
That dust storm annihilated our garage that took us six hours to build, bending the legs over on their side like they were play-doh. It rendered our storage garage utterly useless.
Taking it down was going to be a two-person job with as much metal carnage and plastic canvas tarp that was intertwined with each other. For the next couple weeks, I’d ask “hey, can we take that garage down today?” With the answer always being “I don’t feel like it today, maybe tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, the dust storms continued to roll in, pummeling the already dilapidated garage.
I knew that if the wind blew hard enough, chances are that our windows would be getting smashed in and that’s a cost we just can’t afford right now.
Grabbing my robe and my shoes, I headed out the front door, to tackle Tarp-Zilla.
Oddly enough, this behemoth looked much smaller from the safety of my bedroom bus window. Now, it looked as if this dragon was 20ft tall and I was Mario, trying to get to the flagpole.
Anger flared up briefly inside me, furious that my asks of help to take this tarp down went unanswered and now it was up to me (again) to find a solution. As I stood in horror at the bar going up and plummeting down, tears of disappointment began to soak my cheeks.
My ego soon came in saying “if he would have just listened, we wouldn’t be in this predicament!” And she wasn’t wrong.
I was hurt that my big-picture asks weren’t being heard or respected. I knew that the tent needed to come down for safety and it would be much easier with two people. This also wasn’t the first time something like this happened.
Kyle consistently puts projects off, not wanting to do them, and then I am usually solo parenting when something that should have been done turns into a disaster.
AND
I know that Kyle is under a lot of stress right now. He’s doing his best every single day to keep his head above water. He didn’t neglect helping to put the garage away out of spite, it was out of exhaustion and not feeling like putting it away was imminent.
The duality was that we both are doing our best and this was a good opportunity to learn from and grow forward.
As the last of my tears were falling, I took a deep and cleansing inhale, followed by a long and steady exhale. I would need to process everything I felt later, but right now I felt my calm in the chaos. My gaze turned to the clanging of the tent, and I said aloud “okay. Let’s do this.”
I grabbed a razor knife and I saw my opportunity to slay the Desert Tarp.
Running full speed at the encased bars that had just clunked to the ground, I leapt up into the air and before I knew it, I was firmly standing on top of the tarp, the flapping bars now completely disabled.
Now the real work began as I took the razor knife and began to cut open the sewn pocket of bars. Danger was still abound, as the metal ends of the ratchet straps were blowing in the wind gusts, within inches of my head.
Now with the bars out of the pockets, only the limp and harmless tarp floated between gusts. I ran to the other side of the garage to begin detaching the tarp and disarming the ratchets.
The winds were still howling as I was shoving the slayed Desert Tarp under the safety of our bus and pondering what I had just accomplished.
Earlier when I texted Kyle that I was scared, he was dismissive of my emotion when I all needed was to be seen by him. In that moment, I needed him to make me feel valid in this being a not-very-fair situation and give me the empowerment that I could handle it.
With him dismissing me in my time of need, my trigger went off and the anger began to rise. I texted him a snippy “I’ll handle it” and I went off to go do just that.
For the rest of the day, Kyle didn’t text me one time, even knowing the last time we spoke I said I was scared. Twelve hours went by without a text, when later that evening I received one from him saying “hi”.
By this time, I had already realized the duality of the entire situation and I had dissolved my anger hours ago. I understood why both of us felt the way we did and we are doing our best.
So, why didn’t I text him?
Because I didn’t want to.
While I empathized with both of our situations, I was left to care for myself today. When I have to give myself care, I don’t have the extra care left over to give Kyle his emotional needs right then. Every choice whether light or dark, has consequences that are positive or negative. Kyle choosing to abandon my emotional needs all day, meant I had to find my own calm in the chaos alone.
By choosing not to text Kyle, it wasn’t out of spite or anger, I just didn’t want to talk to him. Historically, I am the one to pursue him after he’s emotionally abandoned me. Through the last several months growing opportunities, I’ve realized that I’m not doing that anymore.
We have to advocate for how we want our partners to treat us. We have to show and model it to them in daily life, while individually maintaining our calm in the chaos. Our own happiness isn’t found in chasing our partner and consistently fulfilling them in their needs while not having ours met. For me, my happiness was found within myself and nobody is responsible for its maintenance but me.
Later that night, because I had found my own calm in the chaos, I could express to Kyle how I felt about what happened earlier in a balanced way. Kyle genuinely heard, saw, and validated me because he didn’t feel like he was being attacked.
At the end of our conversation, we were able to create protocol growing forward for the next time something similar arises. By me advocating for my needs and realizing my boundaries, Kyle is learning how to love me. With finding my calm in the chaos and not allowing anger in the drivers seat, Kyle is feeling more vulnerable and he’s able to open up to his own emotions, sharing them with me.
In me advocating for myself, my independence and self empowerment is coming back, shining through in the most confident of ways. It’s actually inspiring my family to advocate for themselves and their own boundaries.
It’s taken nearly 19 years for us to get to a place where we both consciously understand that we’re doing our best, learning and growing through life individually and together.
As it turns out, Desert Tarps may not hold up in the weather, but they sure can teach empowering lessons.
P.S. if you’re in a relationship where your emotions aren’t valued and cared for, you deserve for them to be and you are allowed to advocate for yourself. If your partner continually chooses to not listen to your needs and not grow with you, you have every right to choose yourself without feeling guilt.
You deserve to be seen, valid, and heard. Period.
I love you so much friend. I’m grateful you spent some of your precious time today with me in my inner world. I hope your day is just as beautiful as you are.