The Teardrop Tiny Home That Surprisingly Saved My Soul

Kim Kelly Stamp
4 min readMay 11, 2022

This is what happened when we sold everything and moved into a 21-foot tiny home.

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As I hunkered down into the lounge area of our Teardrop Trailer, I was mesmerized by the quiet and the beauty surrounding me. When was the last time I felt this relaxed, this at home, I wondered? Had it been months or years? I couldn’t recall the last time I felt this relaxed. I hadn’t anticipated enjoying this experience this much. I hadn’t expected how much I needed this, and I certainly hadn’t realized that a tiny home could literally save my soul, but that’s precisely what happened.

Over the years, I have become a homebody. My work life was stressful, intense, and depleting, and I found home projects a welcome diversion on the weekends. I enjoyed being home, mowing the lawn, engaging with the neighbors, and puttering in the garage. My wife, however, longed for a more nomadic life. She is a free spirit who loves hiking, extended backpacking trips, and being outdoors. Building this house was a compromise for her, and we both agreed that it wouldn’t be our “forever home.”

When the Pandemic hit, we were coming out of two years of profound grief after losing my mother, her father, and our beloved labradoodle, Tegan. We had hoped 2020 would be a year of resetting and refreshing, but that went to shit in March. Because we both worked in healthcare, COVID was a special kind of hell for us, and a year into it, we made the drastic decision to retire early.

Moving our retirement up by three years meant we needed to be creative in planning and frugal in spending. We decided to sell our home and move into a 21-foot travel trailer for the foreseeable future. This choice stoked the fire of excitement in my nomadic-leaning wife, but it was more of a practical option for me that I hoped would be enjoyable enough to tolerate for a year or so. It’s almost shocking how wrong I was!

When in the midst of extreme stress, some of us can compartmentalize, put our heads down, and keep plugging along. This was true for me, and it wasn’t until I stepped off the treadmill that I realized how much that constant stress had impacted me. I didn’t know how utterly exhausted I was. Nor did I recognize that I was a shell of my former self and on a collision course with severe…

Kim Kelly Stamp

Writer. Essayist. Espresso Enthusiast. LGBTQIA. PNW Native. Retired. Gigi Extraordinaire. Work in: NYT, Shondaland, HuffPost,+ Contact: