Hey, I’m Valerie Spina. If you haven’t heard from me, it’s because life has been A LOT. You’re on this newsletter because we’ve connected before, and you’re in my contacts. If you don’t want to be here, no worries. Feel free to unsubscribe at the bottom of this email.

For those who want to stay, I’m starting this newsletter to have you join me on my journey in a Class C RV. I’ve moved into this new mobile home because I’ve had a wild ride over the last five years. From my job imploding (twice) to toxic mold, SEC whistleblowing, heartbreak, a spiritual awakening, and memecoin pumps—I’ve seen a lot! I’ve just charted off on this next phase, and I’m super excited to have you here with me. I’ll be writing daily—because that’s challenging and I need structure. I’m currently up the canyon in Boulder, Colorado, where I’ve lived for the last two years. I’ll likely be moving around every 10-15 days, immersing myself in the land, creating art from it, photographing, and reflecting on love, spirituality, and the journey of life in this way.

Why am I doing this?

Because would you really expect me to do anything else? I am not built for “normal” work. I can’t seem to make a rental situation last longer than a healthy year without something going wrong, and because I’m here to make mistakes, publicly. I’m here to trip and to giggle as I get up. Most of you have known me to be like this. Typically doing something beyond what anyone else is, transforming from it, and coming home to tell the story.

Since 2021, I’ve been in Colorado. I spent the last four years working in the crypto industry (that was insane), I became an SEC whistleblower by 27, launching me into two years of a intense spiritual awakening that peaked through an abortion and a major fall out with my life long friends (if you’re reading this, I’m still sorry and I love you more than anything). If that’s not enough, in March of this year, I had to move out for toxic mold that I was in for a year and a half, and lost my job in the same week! I’m not made to do “normal” things, we know this. I’m here to create change and to live that change. And so, we are taking on the life that is inspired first and foremost. That will be our motivation, and that is why we’re here.

I’ll be living in this thing full time for the foreseeable future. I have dreams of buying some cheap land and parking it there while me and a man build a home. I also have a big community in Boulder that I’m not interested in leaving anytime soon. They have been like coming home over and over again and have helped me deeply on a spiritual and healing journey.

And so far?

It’s not too shabby. As I write this, I’m doing my favorite things: telling my story, making some watercolors, waiting for the rain, and longing for the new man in my life to meet me up here (he’s really great and you’ll absolutely be hearing about him).

I’m already learning this RV intimately. The smallest knob ever turned on the propane to the fridge. The gauge for my car battery is on medium. I’m draining it as I write this because it has to be on for the Starlink to work. Otherwise, I have to run the generator, and I hate the generator. I come to nature to be in the sounds of nature. I tried to put full solar on this before I left but the one company that does it in Boulder told me to fuck off after I asked too many questions (and tried to negotiate the price down by like 50%). I understand fully why they wouldn't work with me.

My front tooth is aching, and I keep checking if it’s gone grey. I dropped my phone straight on it and it’s hurt for the last two days. I woke up this morning with a beautiful man next to me. He’s sweet, and I feel more grateful than I ever have. I like longing for him in between the times that he comes and goes. We hope he sticks around. He’s very fucking hot too, but most importantly has a kind heart.

I still need to go out and walk, find my daily connection with the aspens and the sage, and make some food. If it rains really hard, it might get too muddy to move. We’ll leave shortly now, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

Love,
Valerie