Roots
Saturday, February 11, 2023
I’ve never felt rooted.
What do I mean? Well, I’ve never felt like I’ve been stable in a place. Like, any minute, I’m going to have to up and leave. It stems from my childhood (doesn’t everything?).
Growing up, we never stayed in one spot for long. I attended a different school for almost every grade, until 8th grade. Even then, we still moved a lot. It wasn’t even small moves. I started school in Colusa, CA, moved to Mojave, Apple Valley, Lakewood, then the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania - talk about a culture shock. There were a lot of reasons we moved… but it all boiled down to - you guessed it - the person that gave birth to me (I refuse to call her by the M word, because she doesn’t deserve that title. She uprooted me for many reasons. Her boyfriends. Her boyfriend’s job (after I started Kindergarten, she didn’t have one until we moved to Pennsylvania when I was 11). Her not paying the bills. Not wanting to be found. I’m sure there’s additional reasons that I never knew about.
It’s hard to plant roots, make friends, form bonds, when you never knew when you were leavings. The worst part, we usually left a place right in the middle of the school year. It’s difficult enough, as a shy introvert with a crappy home life, to be the “new kid” at a school, but to do it in the middle of the school year, knowing you probably wouldn’t be there long? It was hell.
Even after I left her, I still had a hard time. You have to understand that I never had a role model, a person to teach me how to be a responsible adult. For a good part of my early adulthood, I was anything but responsible. Budgeting? Forget it. Managing responsibilities? Absolutely not. Making sure what HAD to be done was done first before what I WANTED to do? Never. I would like to say that having my daughter changed that, but it didn’t. What did change everything? Divorce.
For the first year, after I left my ex-husband, I stayed with my dad and his (thankfully now ex) girlfriend. Feeling like I was regaining my freedom, while trying to take care of a 5-year-old, and starting from scratch, didn’t help my sense of responsibility. It wasn’t until almost two years later, that I finally grew up. I was 32.
I moved into a tiny two-bedroom apartment with my daughter. For the first time, in a decade, I was on my own. This time, though, I was a mother. It made a different that it was no longer just me. Before her, I never really cared what happened to me. But now, I have this tiny human that I am solely responsible for. I finally started budgeting and making sure everything that had to be done was done first. I wasn’t perfect… hell, I’m still not, but that sense of “adulthood” finally came to me.
I still didn’t feel rooted, though. I knew the apartment was temporary. I was only a year into the relationship with the boyfriend, and with both of us having kids, we weren’t rushing anything. It wasn’t until two years into our relationship that we discussed co-habitation. Even then, I didn’t feel rooted. We were in a rental, our relationship was still new(ish), and co-habitation was a real relationship test. Then in 2018, we bought a house.
We were rushed into buying our house. Our landlord had given us an eviction notice because they were moving their family in. Thankfully, one of my best friends was a realtor. With her help, we were able to go through the home buying process in a little less than 2 months. But… I still didn’t feel rooted.
I struggled to figure out why I didn’t feel stable. Yeah, we have relationship issues like everyone else, but that wasn’t it. I didn’t have to worry about eviction, we own our home. I had a steady job. Even throughout the divorce and moving and new relationship, I made sure that my daughter was able to go to the same school. I didn’t want her to have to be the new kid. I didn’t have many friends, I still don’t, but I have a few that I can connect with. My dad and step-mom are close. I have family here. Even with all of the necessary factors to being rooted, I still didn’t feel it. It’s like I am always on edge, waiting for my life to crumble and have to up and leave again. I’m still searching for my purpose. For stability. For the sense of being where I belong.
Maybe one day, I’ll find my place and start to plant my roots.