When I got long COVID, I moved back in with my parents. I slowly settled into life back at home for the first time in eight years and had a routine of dinner and TV with my parents in the evenings, along with the occasional weekend coffee with a friend.
Time crept by, and I couldn’t imagine what the next steps of my life would be. I wasn’t sure if I would recover, return to work, or live alone again.
After a year, I was getting more restless as my symptoms improved, and I wanted to move on to the next step. However, I was still struggling every day, and my confidence had taken a knock. I didn’t know what to do.
Someone else who was losing their independence was my grandfather. He was no longer able to drive, and so he was stuck at home in a rural area with only himself for company. My granny had died the year before, shortly followed by his dog, and so he was lonely and dependent on us for help.
That’s when I came up with the idea of moving into a camper van just outside his place.
I moved into my unconventional living situation and loved it
When I suggested living in the camper in Grandad’s garden, people thought I was being ridiculous. To some extent, I was. I was fortunate enough to have parents with whom I could live at home in a warm, comfortable house.
But instead, I chose to move into a tiny house at the start of Autumn because what I really needed at that point was independence. I needed to know if I could live separately from my parents, who had been there to support me when I had a day of bad symptoms. I also needed to know whether I would get too lonely on my own, without being able to sit with them in the evenings, but not always being able to go out and socialize with friends if I wasn’t feeling well.
So, when my Grandad needed company and support, and we weren’t sure what to do, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.
I decorated the caravan a bit to make it feel like home, packed up some of my belongings, and moved in.
It didn’t come without complications; an inability to get the gas to work meant I was using heated blankets and electric heaters (a sure-fire risk), but I was largely happy. Life felt like mine again.
I regained my confidence, and my grandfather felt less lonely
It felt great to see my Grandad regularly. I could tell he was no longer lonely with me around. Every morning, he would come out and knock on the caravan door to say hi and check I was OK. He told my dad that he felt like we were becoming close friends.
Meanwhile, I found the courage to date again. I had barely dated for the two years prior, due to a mixture of anxiety, illness, and just not wanting to put the energy into it. But I felt a whole new lease of life without my parents across the hall. I got back on dating apps and was quickly chatting with people, thanks to my newfound confidence.
The problem I had not anticipated was the lack of privacy a camper in a front garden gives you. Just before I moved in, my family had set up a Ring camera which directly faced the van. All my family were logged in (for Grandad’s safety).
Somehow, I forgot that as I was bringing a date past the camera, it would notify the whole family. I knew they would not be able to resist taking the piss and trying to embarrass me. After a brief panic, I managed to deactivate the camera, but bringing dates around to my new home was never easy.
While there was a level of independence, it wasn’t a typical experience. But those three months in that camper brought me closer to Grandad and helped me find my footing again.
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