revisit: the tiny house

This is the second in a series revisiting posts from the first year of BITNF.  A tough one to write, I’m looking back on:

• why back is the new forward (July 2014)
• tiny house dreams (March 2015)

While I was returning from a meditation retreat in October, two friends I’d met in Seattle that I was texting with both brought up my original idea for developing a retreat center in Nova Scotia.  I was surprised they remembered.  It felt random … and jarring.

In my first blog post in July 2014, I wrote “I had an epiphany-like idea … and I now plan to do it by autumn 2016.”  I never went into much detail on the blog about that original epiphany—it was to build out some kind of retreat on the rural property I own with my brother and, along with my tiny house, have three other tiny houses to rent out.  The idea was Tiny Retreats. 

But by the tiny house dreams post in March 2015, I had already decided that saving enough money to retire and live simply was more financially sound than paying for four tiny houses and trying to eke out a living just for the sake of eking out a living.  Thank goodness!  I was in waay over my head with just one tiny house.  Tiny Retreats was just a dream.  A literal dream.  But at least it got me focused quickly on the goals of living less expensively and moving home.

“… when I think of having all my belongings and a meditation cushion in a small space surrounded by a field, forest, and ocean … well, that sounds like utopia to me.  Nature will provide additional living space.” (tiny house dreams)

I had grand ideas for wildflower gardens, vegetable gardens, a memory garden, a lawn for outdoor yoga, pathways through the forest. 

I planned to live in the tiny house full time for no more than a year—long-term it was to be a meditation / writing retreat—so I just included a toilet, sink, and two RV kitchen burners but not a shower or oven.  I planned to go somewhere warm for a large part of Nova Scotia’s long winter. 

I moved into the tiny house in August 2017.  In the fall, we had some necessary carpentry and drainage work done on the farmhouse.  We had the driveway redone with gravel.  Work on the rural property project had begone!

I want to emphasize that I have always absolutely loved my tiny house.  It has been a beautiful sanctuary with shaker shingle exterior, red metal roof, modern Morsø woodstove, beautiful pine panel interior, lots of windows, cork flooring, a loft for sleeping, and countertops with a fun topographic map pattern.  My experience living in the tiny house the first year was very challenging, but it was intertwined with challenges that went beyond the tiny house. 

I had retired from a corporate job that was chaotic, yes, but in which I was surrounded by a high-rise full of colleagues I liked.  I had left behind many deep friendships developed over 11 years.  I was an introvert living rurally on my own.  I said goodbye to both my beloved cats in 2017.  I was learning to live in essentially a fancy RV beside an old farmhouse with no running water until May 2018.  I had no RV experience.  I am not a DIYer.  I have difficulty asking for help. 

I also want to emphasize that I met many wonderful and helpful friends and neighboUrs there.  But that first winter was extremely difficult.  I knew intellectually a “real” winter was going to be hard after 11 years in the PNW, but experiencing a five-month winter again while living in an urban area would have been challenging enough without adding on living in isolation in 200 square feet without easy access to a hot shower.   

The propane system (used for the kitchen burners and water heater) had issues with the cold temps.  The composting toilet was a challenge.  If you drove by at the right time, you might have seen the crazy tiny-house lady in her yard washing the composting toilet out frantically after the red-mite incident.  The YouTube videos said the composting toilet was easy.  The YouTube videos were wrong.

I reverted to an anxious state and the rundown farmhouse renewed my germaphobe and OC tendencies.  It got bad in a way I’ve never written about here or fully discussed with anyone.  Old unresolved emotional stuff surfaced.  I lost significant weight. 

And by spring, I was wrecked.  I didn’t feel like doing any work on the farmhouse or purging the stuff inside.  I didn’t want to be in the farmhouse let alone work on it.  I was immobilized.  I was embarrassed when people stopped by.

“The big dreams I had for the rural property—a relaxing retreat people would want to visit with veggie gardens, flower gardens, yoga space, memorial garden, a fixed up and homey farmhouse all built around my beautiful tiny house—just couldn’t happen.  I couldn’t plan for how I would FEEL there.” (neutral)

This is not a post about regret, but I want to be honest about what I would do differently given a do-over:

• My #1 recommendation to younger-self would be not to make so much change all at once.  I’d retired from my job, sold my condo, and moved across the continent.  A more sensible choice would have been to rent an apartment in Halifax (where I’d previously lived) to more easily adjust that first winter with more social opportunity.  It didn’t have to be so damn hard.
• Try living in a tiny house or RV before having a tiny house built.
• Try living on the rural property seasonally before committing to being there year-round.
• Take more time before spending $ to have work done on the farmhouse to consider its future.
• As a solo introvert, don’t live in the country during the isolation of winter.

I should have talked through a lot of the anxiety stuff with someone.  I might have come out the other side earlier. 

Specific to the tiny house, feedback I’ve given others planning to build small structures includes:

• If using a composting toilet, consider putting it in a separate small outbuilding.  That way, you can work through the challenges / optimizations outside of your tiny living space (and not sleep right above it).
• If planning on a four-season structure, look at more robust propane regulators, tanks, and hot water systems.
• Re the tiny house living info online, keep in mind that most are in very different climates than Nova Scotia and don’t have to deal with the extreme cold.  This is significant with less living space too—in warmer climates, the outdoors is part of your living environment.  Not so during a long Nova Scotia winter.
• Note: The expensive Morsø woodstove and solar system have worked without a hitch.

By spring 2019, I knew I wasn’t going to live there a third winter and I moved to my apartment December 1, 2019.  But, of course, I can’t help think that if the timing had been just a little different, how would sheltering-in-place have turned out for me if I was still living there on my own when the pandemic hit three months later?

I still love the tiny house.  Maybe more so now that I’m not living in it full time and just use it as a seasonal retreat cabin in the warm months.  But it does make me a little sad to look out at the farmhouse and property and think about my grand plans that I didn’t make happen.  And we’ve had a bit of a roller coaster with thinking what comes next for the property.  Sell?  Don’t sell?  We’ve got good reasons for both.  This property is where my mother grew up and, as much as I’d like to think there are no emotions attached … there definitely are. 

But simple math is top-of-my-mind these days.  I was 52 years old when I moved home full of excitement and into the tiny house.  I’m 59 now and I’ve got ideas for my 60’s that very specifically DO NOT include the following: 1) continuing to procrastinate on sorting / donating any remaining old stuff currently in my possession, 2) waffling about what to do with a rundown farmhouse, and 3) feeling guilt or shame about anything.  I was motivated this summer and got all of the remaining stuff I’d procrastinated on emptied out of the farmhouse and into the right hands.  Yup, my original dreams DID NOT WORK OUT.  I’ve got one year to 60.  Time to move on.  Time to get ready for what’s next.

References and related links:

• MAC: mon amie Caroline.
• PNW: Pacific Northwest.
• OC: Obsessive-Compulsive.
• why back is the new forward (post #1)
• tiny house dreams (post #34)
• on thinking big and small (post #58)
• here (post #88)
• neutral (post #128)