Everyone pictures Yellowstone and sees the postcard, the geysers, the bison, the wide-open wilderness that takes your breath away before you’ve even finished your coffee. What nobody pictures is the girl on the third floor of a 14-plex apartment building, walking the same three roads for the hundredth time, watching her dog press her nose against the window because she wants outside but outside stopped feeling like enough weeks ago. That girl is me. And if you have ever chased an adventure that turned out to look a whole lot different up close than it did from far away, this one is for you.
I Never Imagined Feeling This Way Inside One of the Most Beautiful Places on Earth
I have lived a lot of places. Nebraska, South Dakota, Arizona, Colorado, a school bus, a tent, a loft above a barn. Curtis and I have built a life around going where the work takes us and finding the adventure in every single stop. That was always the deal and I have never once regretted it.
But this one has felt different than all the others combined.
Every place we have ever been, Curtis has been right there next to me doing something completely different but right there. In Nebraska I was in housekeeping and he was in maintenance. South Dakota, retail and food and beverage for me, maintenance for him. Colorado, office work for me, campground and forestry for him. We have always had two completely different jobs but we have always been in it together.
Now we are stationed inside Yellowstone National Park. Curtis has a full time position in his field. Me? I live inside Yellowstone but I do not work for Yellowstone.
When we got here a year ago, Curtis and I made an agreement. He would work the full time job while I built my blog from home so that eventually I could retire him from the workforce. The goal was to build something we could take anywhere so we would not have to jump from job to job every year just to keep exploring. I loved the idea. I still do. But the reality of working from home in a place like this? Nothing like I imagined.
What Living Inside Yellowstone Actually Looks Like
We live on the government side of the park. The side only employees get to experience. Third floor of an apartment building, fourteen other employees on the same property, surrounded by dormitories and a campground that houses staff who bring their own campers.
There is also a pub. A designated employee space where people can eat, drink, play pool, listen to music, and actually be social. Sounds great, right?
I am not allowed in unless I get a special pass. Because I am not an employee.
So while I am technically surrounded by people, I am also completely on the outside of the only real community gathering space available.
Last summer was genuinely wonderful. Curtis and I spent every day off hiking, fishing, camping, and exploring. On the days he worked I worked hard on the blog and then took a few days to go out and actually live the life I was writing about. It felt right. It felt like us.
Then winter came.
The Winter Nobody Warned Me About
Winter inside Yellowstone is not like winter anywhere else. Once the snow starts falling, all personal vehicles have to be escorted off the property and stored in a parking lot outside the park. An hour from here. The roads get groomed for snowmobilers and only oversnow vehicles are allowed in.
We were here. The car was there. For the entire winter season.
I had stocked us up well enough that we did not need to go grocery shopping for six months. We took the big yellow bus out once to visit family. Otherwise we hunkered down, played video games on days off, and waited for spring.
I thought I would be fine with it. And for a while I was. But by the time we got our vehicle back I was genuinely counting the days.
Then just as things were starting to open back up, the manager above Curtis quit. Curtis stepped up and took on the entire department. He is opening the biggest village in all of Yellowstone for the very first time, on his own, seven days a week.
Since December it has mostly just been me, at home, working, walking Koda the same three roads over and over again because dogs are not allowed on the hiking trails inside the park. [New Blog post coming Soon: traveling with dogs in national parks]
Koda comes over every five minutes and begs to go outside. She usually does not even need to go to the bathroom. She just wants out. She is a girl after my own heart.
What Cabin Fever Actually Feels Like When You Are an Outdoor Person
I never understood cabin fever before this. Not really. I thought it just meant you were a little restless. What it actually feels like is a slow gray settling. The walks that used to feel like a breath of fresh air start to feel like the same four walls just arranged differently. The work that used to feel exciting starts to feel like pulling teeth. Even the things you do for fun stop feeling like play.
I work alone. I eat alone sometimes. I go to bed alone on the nights Curtis works late. And even when he is home, he is exhausted in the way that makes a person present in body but somewhere else entirely.
It is the truest definition of isolation, and I had no idea what that felt like until right now. [New blog post coming soon: working from home mental health tips]
What Actually Helps When You Cannot Just Go Outside and Fix It
Here is what I have learned from six months of figuring this out the hard way.
You have to find something you genuinely love that does not require going anywhere. Not something productive. Not something you should do. Something that actually feels like play.
For me that has looked like writing. Turns out when I stopped forcing myself to grind and just started telling the truth about my actual life, it stopped feeling like work entirely. This post? I wrote it in under an hour because it was already in me waiting to come out.
But it looks different for everyone. Some ideas that have helped me or that I keep coming back to:
Paint by numbers or a coloring book. Something tactile and quiet that gives your hands something to do while your mind rests.
A solo game you actually enjoy. Not something to pass time. Something you look forward to.
Getting outside even in the smallest possible way. Take your shoes off and stand on the ground. Listen to the wind in the trees. Sit on the porch and just look at the sky. You do not need a trail or a campfire or a destination. Sometimes just the air is enough.
If you do have access to a fire, use it. Even a small one. There is something about fire that resets something in a person. [New blog post coming soon: campfire cooking for beginners]
The bigger lesson underneath all of it is this. If you get caught up in the day to day grind with no play built in, you will burn out faster than you can blink. And burned out people do not build good things. They just survive until something gives.
I am still learning this one myself.
Want More Real Talk About the Adventurous Life?
If this resonated with you, you are probably the kind of woman who is out here doing something unconventional and figuring it out as she goes. I write for you every single week. Real stories, practical skills, and honest conversation about what this life actually looks like.
You Are Never as Alone in This as It Feels
If you are sitting somewhere right now feeling isolated, feeling like the adventure you signed up for got a little harder than the brochure suggested, I want you to know that you are not alone in it. Someone else is out there walking the same roads for the hundredth time, talking to their dog, and wondering if it is all still worth it.
It is. I really believe that.
As soon as Curtis gets some breathing room we are getting back out there, and I will bring you along for every single bit of it. And once this blog is profitable enough to actually retire him, the adventures are going to get a whole lot bigger.
Until then I will be here. Telling the truth about all of it.
With love and adventure, Mindy
Does any of this sound familiar? Drop a comment below and tell me where you are and what you are navigating. I genuinely want to know.