One Year on the Road With Our Family

We have now been one year on the road with our family. It's hard to believe 12 months have passed by since we left our old dream home in Utah. We thought we understood what this life would look like and what our son with autism and PDA needed. We were wrong about almost everything. But somehow, being wrong led us exactly where we needed to be.

What We Didn't See Coming

The RV life wasn't even our original plan. We knew our son needed novelty in his environment. We also knew that he thrived in nature and away from social stimulation.

We started with a two-month condo rental, thinking we'd just book another one, then another. But finding month-long rentals turned out to be nearly impossible, and the expense was astronomical unless you planned way ahead. So we pivoted to an RV. Moving out of that first condo took all day. Brittney looked at Preston after we loaded the last box and said, "I can't do this again." That just confirmed our decision. RV life it was.

Then we thought we'd bounce between RV parks like most people do. The first one was quiet, surrounded by nature and water. Perfect. The second was a resort-style place with tons of kids, activities, and noise. Hyrum was getting in trouble constantly, overstimulated and seeking quiet spaces where he wasn't supposed to be. We were more stressed than we'd been in months. That's when we discovered boondocking, and it was night and day. But to make it work, we had to outfit our RV with solar panels, a massive battery bank, hundred-gallon water bags, pumps, and all the gear to live off-grid. None of this was in our original budget or timeline.

But the biggest surprise was watching our family adapt to isolation better than we ever imagined. Brittney had worried about social anxiety, especially with Hyrum's unpredictable moments in public. Instead, we found ourselves growing closer, branching out into new communities with less fear, and discovering that we could actually thrive without the constant social obligations that used to define our lives.

How We've Changed

Preston used to be all engines and adrenaline. If he wasn't working on one of his businesses, he was on a dirt bike or ATV, chasing that next rush. Success meant owning more, doing more, achieving more. Even a couple years before we left, he started winding down some of that drive, but the road has completed a transformation we never saw coming. Now he craves quiet water and hiking trails. He spends more time in prayer and meditation, something that never came naturally before. He'd rather take the kids out in our little raft to catch fish than fire up any kind of motor.

Brittney has shed the weight of constant comparison. She used to feel like life was some competition where everyone else's milestones became her measuring stick. Now there's peace in knowing we're living more aligned with who we actually are. She feels more spiritually guided, more open to revelation, more grounded as a human being connected to nature instead of caught up in superficial concerns. The road has softened her heart and taught her that life is impermanent, that changes can be flowed through rather than fought.

Both of us have learned to love simpler things: books, quiet mornings, the kids playing together instead of needing constant entertainment. We've become people who prioritize tranquility over excitement, connection over achievement, being present over being productive.

What's Still Hard

Some things we thought would get easier haven't. RV life is constant work. Fix ten things in a day, feel accomplished, then something else breaks the next morning. When you're boondocking, there's always water to get, propane to monitor, power levels to check, black tanks to empty, and even finding places to take trash becomes a challenge. It's honestly a part-time job just maintaining livability for the family.

And then there's the dirt and creatures that Hyrum loves so much. If he can't find live ones, he'll get plastic animals and create habitats on our couch, our table, anywhere he can haul in containers of dirt and water. It's a constant cycle of joy for him and cleanup for us. We've learned to appreciate his happiness with it, but we're still spending hours every day cleaning up after these projects.

For Brittney, the biggest ongoing challenge is absorbing everyone's emotions without the external supports we used to have. No school system, no stable neighborhood community. When someone's having a hard day, she feels like she has to step up as the buffer. She wants to let the kids embrace discomfort and learn resilience, but at times still finds herself jumping in to entertain or solve problems instead of letting them work through boredom or loneliness themselves.

When We Knew This Was Right

There were several moments when we realized we'd made the right choice, and they came at different stages of our journey. The first big confirmation came early on in Virgin, Utah, when we discovered boondocking worked better than any RV park. Watching Hyrum settle into the quiet, having space to roam without getting in trouble, seeing him regulated in a way we'd never experienced, that was our first "this is it" moment.

For Brittney, her deepest confirmation came in that same area, following Hyrum through a creek as he hunted for crawdads. No appointments, no social obligations, no plans pulling her in different directions. She was free to be his guardian, watching him learn in this natural, unrushed environment like a bird watching her young learn to fly. In that moment, she realized this is how life is supposed to be lived.

Months later, when we were in Idaho about six or seven months into our journey, Eden hit her own turning point. Those early struggles with leaving friends behind every few weeks taught us we needed to slow down, and we watched her transform from being peer-oriented to finding contentment with family time, developing incredible artistic talents and deeper relationships with books and solitude.

More recently, in just the last few months, we had financial wake-up calls when some of our investments shifted. That pressure led Preston into consulting and digital marketing for blue-collar businesses, using skills he already had but learning to deliver them in this new context.

What We've Learned About Ourselves

This year has taught us we're capable of so much more than we knew. We've learned to love each other in closer quarters, to be more supportive and understanding when someone's having a hard day. We've discovered we actually enjoy solitude, quiet mornings, books, and spending most of our time outdoors.

We've learned more about Hyrum than ever before, what works, what doesn't, and how some strategies that helped for months suddenly shift as he grows and changes. Overall, this life has been a huge blessing for him, but we've also learned that there's still constant adapting required. The challenges haven't disappeared; they've just become more manageable in this environment.

We've discovered we love simpler foods, even though we miss having a full kitchen sometimes. We've learned to enjoy nature in ways we never did before, hiking, paddle boarding, fishing from our little raft, watching the kids catch creatures and build habitats everywhere.

Most importantly, we've learned that we can trust ourselves to make unconventional choices and figure things out as we go. We're not the same people who left suburbia a year ago, and we're more comfortable with uncertainty than we ever thought possible.

Choosing Faith over Certainty

The question we sometimes discuss is how long this lifestyle will be needed. We know Hyrum loves the ocean and thrives on the coast, but there are very limited spots along the Pacific Northwest that truly work for extended stays. We've explored most of them now, and we're torn between going back to places we know work and heading east to discover what else might be out there.

As Hyrum gets older and stronger, his meltdowns, while being less frequent than before, are more intense when they do happen. We still find ourselves dealing with hours-long episodes where we're trying to keep him safe, protect the RV, and manage curious or concerned strangers who don't understand what's happening.

Brittney wrestles with fears as a mother. Questions and doubts still creep in at times. Seeing the beautiful fruit so far, she has been able to move forward with faith in spite of fears that surface at times.

At some point along the way, our story became public in ways we never expected. While the attention was brief, it reminded us that families everywhere are quietly trying to build lives that work.

For now, we're choosing faith over certainty, praying about where to go next, and trusting that the same providence that got us this far will continue to guide us forward.

Looking Toward Year Two

We're seriously considering a big eastern circle, exploring the Midwest, East Coast, and Southeast to see what those regions have to offer our family. We want to discover new places that might work for Hyrum while giving the whole family different experiences and educational opportunities.

Emotionally and spiritually, we're focused on going even deeper into the basics, more prayer, more contemplation, more patience with each other. Brittney wants to make daily solitary walks a sacred practice, treating them like a religious ritual she undertakes without phone, without distractions, just quiet connection with herself and God.

We're planning to make letter writing a weekly family ritual, both as part of homeschool and as a way to maintain meaningful connections with extended family and the people we've met along the way. Those relationships can create anchors and buffers for us as we continue to move.

We want to keep learning practical skills like fishing and hunting, becoming more self-sustaining within the limits of RV life. And we want to continue deepening our knowledge of theology, history, and psychology, not just learning facts but understanding how to live more resilient, grounded lives.

Most of all, we want to keep following this path of living more aligned with our actual values rather than what society expects.

May there be a road.