I took down the walls

I took down the walls this week. They were grubby white acrylic plastic and needed to come out so that I could check for rust and so that, further down the line, I can put in insulation before rebuilding far sturdier and more beautiful walls from wooden cladding. Walls that will bring warmth and transform the space from van to home.

Getting them out wasn’t simple, most of them had been fixed into place with rivets, which aren’t designed to be removed. I had to take my power drill to them, boring a hole through the centre of each one until it broke apart, allowing me to remove the van’s walls. Eventually the silver metal of the van itself was revealed, with only a few small spots of rust that will need fixing up. Rust can destroy a van and mustn’t be ignored, even the smallest bit.

Seeing the van looking like that, stripped down and bared to the world, ready for the next step, is exhilarating. It makes this journey feel real, feel solid.

The thing about taking down the walls is that the metaphor writes itself. Stripping out the tired and old so that it can carefully and lovingly be replaced with something comforting and needed. The challenge of removing something that wasn’t built to be taken out, even if it will be better when it’s gone. That before you replace what you fought to remove you must first take care the fix what was underneath. Every one of these ideas can easily be described through the physical actions of taking down the van walls. But they are more than metaphors and more than ideas.

Taking the leap of faith required to set out on this journey when I’ve no idea how to do half the things I will need to do, required taking down my own walls. They had to come down so I could admit to being unhappy, admit to not knowing what I wanted, admit to wanting something different in my life than the things society thinks we should want- a steady job, a house made of bricks and mortar, to live in one place and to grow there. There is nothing wrong with those things, with that life, with those dreams. They are wonderful ones, and I have benefitted from them hugely.

But, in fighting with the rivets holding my own walls in place I managed to admit that beneath them was a different sort of dream, one that needed a different sort of care, and a different sort of place to make real. One that needed a van.

And now both our walls are down, mine and the vans. Next, I need to take up the floor and find out what lurks underneath that.