Sunday, January 25, 2015
I'm not claustrophobic. I can be in small places without freaking out. (I probably have cleithrophobia, though, which is the fear of being trapped. You can have a cleithrophobia attack in a wide open place if you can't move, can't get out.)
My apprehensions disappeared once I was out on the road. It felt rather natural. I realized that at any given second I need only a fraction more space than what my body takes up.
Some van dwellers complain about not being able to stand. I figure there's unlimited room all around me. Need to stretch? Having trouble pulling a sweater over my head? Tired of looking at the walls? Step outside. Because I'm not living in a van, I'm living out of one. The van is where I keep my stuff and where I sleep. Even when weather drives me inside, I know it's just temporary.
Perhaps "enough room" is more a state of mind than a physical dimension.