What DisappearsI lived in a trailer for 13 years. When we finally sold it last year, the people who bought it tore it down. It's like we never even existed.It was sad when I saw it being torn down. I had planted a tree when my oldest son, Viktor, was born. I put it right in the front of the house. It was a Japanese maple tree that had been spliced together with a different Japanese maple. It looked pretty cool, and as the years went on, the leaves began to intertwine in a way that's hard to describe. They just grew into each other.They tore that down too.My kids were my whole world. Viktor, Riker, the twins, Tony's daughter. When my parental rights were taken, I kind of gave up. I used to drink daily. I wasn't a good drunk either. I got loud, broke everything in the house. It was a nightmare for everyone else. I didn't see anything wrong until my hangovers started lasting 5 or 6 days.Now, everyone is scattered. I talk to Viktor through text, changing my number every time his uncle blocks me. Riker is in Vancouver. Titus was adopted and moved to Louisiana, and I haven't heard a word since.You lose the house, you lose the kids, you lose the tree. But the memories don't get torn down. You just have to carry them around with you in the RV.

Getting Lost and Mr. McCreepy PantsLet me tell you a story about how glamorous this life is.It was a dark, foggy night. I was walking through the park, staring at my phone like an idiot, just following the trail. I didn't realize the trail was actually going somewhere until I looked up and thought, "Oh crap, I don't know where I'm at."I turned around, and I was a long way from home. Deep in the park. Nothing around for miles. No one to hear me scream. And of course, here comes some guy with two dogs walking toward me. Mr. McCreepy pants.This is why I have Sadie. She's a big girl, part Shar-Pei, part something else, with wrinkles and eyes that judge everyone. She doesn't bark much, but she watches. I tell her, "You eat that fucker's face if he tries anything."So I'm trying to avoid this guy, and I end up walking completely past where I was supposed to turn. Just getting lost once again. "Ding dong." I'm talking to the dog: "Where are you going? We're going this way. It's her fault. She's trying to lead me in the wrong direction."We're wandering through the trees, me pulling the rope, her trying to stop and poop in the middle of nowhere, both of us just trying to find the RV in the fog.That's the reality. It's not a sunset over a mountain. It's getting lost in the woods with your dog, hoping you don't get murdered, and arguing about directions.

The Other Van Life (Welcome to DDU)If you're looking for tips on how to hang fairy lights in a Sprinter van or which linen sheets breathe best in the desert, you're in the wrong place.This is Ding Dong University, and I'm your host. I've been homeless since July 2024. Before that, I had a house, a husband, kids, and a Japanese maple tree in the front yard that I planted when my oldest son was born. Now I have an RV, no teeth (waiting on dentures is a bitch), and a dog named Sadie who watches my back.People look at you differently when you live like this. When you see garbage on the ground, you might just see garbage. I see value. I see what other people throw away—blankets, towels, toilet paper, laptops. There's a shame to it, yeah. The fear of being seen by someone you used to know while you're doing what you have to do to survive. But you do it anyway.I started this group because nobody talks about the reality of this life. The drug and alcohol side of it. The getting in trouble with the law side of it. The fact that I'll steal dog food before I let my dog go hungry. It's survival mode, day to day, and it is fucking hard.But it's real. So welcome. Pull up a seat.