Stepping Out on my Own
I left it all behind—everything I knew and had acquired after 50 years of living. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t challenged, and I wasn’t really living. I converted an old Chevy work van into a tiny workshop on wheels. I took my time. I took some baby steps and some big leaps, along the way. I stepped out of my comfort zone and made something just for me. I created a new life for myself, in a self built campervan, while trying to make a tiny, bag making business work, to support it all. Yikes. What was I thinking?
I didn’t do it all at once. First, I made a more diligent effort to save as much money as I could. Then, as my funds increased, I took a serious look at the reality of quitting a job I’d had for nearly 20 years. I talked with friends, and was encouraged even more. That’s really all I did. The rest took care of itself, as I remained open to possibilities.
My mother developed health issues that turned out to be brain tumors and possibly cancer. I took a couple of weeks off to help my parents navigate the healthcare system and to just “be there” for them.
I remember asking God to show me what to do, before I went back to work. I had a “sit down” with my boss. I’d missed “review week,” so he was giving me my evaluation for the past year’s work. I wasn’t really listening, until the end, as he started telling me how he was going to move me, and change my hours, so I could get another department back on track and running smoothly, because he’d dropped the ball with training.
I remember squinting one eye, cocking my head a bit to one side, and looking at him with a most puzzled expression. I thought to myself, “Are you kidding me? My mom is dying and you want me to upturn my work schedule to cover your butt?” With a calm I can’t quite explain, I told him, “Yeah, I’m really looking at offering to work either part time, or no time. I’ll have to get back to you.” I asked him for my evaluation paperwork to sign, and got up and left. There was some muttering, but I just kept walking.
It’s a hard thing to do—to consider giving up a steady paycheck with decent benefits, for the complete unknown. I was 50.
I went in to work the next morning and immediately fired off an email to all required, and gave my two weeks notice to quit. I had asked God, two days prior, to show me what to do, and everything seemed so clear. The idea of having to ask for permission to spend time with my parents during my Mother’s last months, was my tipping point; it was what pushed me to finally take my power back and walk away from the trappings of that steady paycheck.
After witnessing the biggest influence and connection in my life, take her last breath, a new chapter had begun, and I would leave everything I knew in 2016, for a life on wheels and the mild winters of the Texas Gulf Coast.
A lot has happened since then, and I left out many details along the way, but I never stopped walking my path. I went back to working with my hands. I found refuge in my creative endeavors, and pondered how I could sustain myself with my skills as a craftsman. I bought an old Chevy work van, though I wasn’t sure why. I spent the next 18 months focused on that beat up white truck. Every step was a baby step, and I didn’t know where I was headed, but I just kept going. Near the end of that year and a half, I was shown exactly what all this work was for. I was able to place my industrial sewing machine in it’s new home, at the back of my van, so I could open the doors and stitch away on my beloved Pfaff 545, I had dragged with me 2000 miles, from Portland.
Road Dirt & Pie is a tiny workshop on wheels, where I make simple, but beautiful, waxed canvas and leather bags. I travel full time, stopping for weeks at a time to camp in nature, to explore my surroundings with my pups, and to make bags. I sleep hard and get up early, and each day is my very own.
Please take a moment to explore my collections of handcrafted bags, and consider supporting this wild adventure, certainly off the beaten path, but making my own way, in this world.
Molly