I moved a lot as a kid. My dad worked in pulp paper mills in the 80s and 90s — not a great time for the industry — so we moved six times, chasing jobs. We spent at most four years in a town, which was long enough to feel settled but short enough that it never feel like home. I went to two elementary schools, two middle schools, and two high schools. I’m not from anywhere, and the only old friends I talk to now are ones I found over social media years later. But there is no connection, and it feels like a giant loss. I missed out on any chance of community. And I have always felt like a loner.
I hated it, and vowed from a young age my kids would never have to live like that.
By my late 20s, I was making a plan on where I wanted to live once I had kids, which was kind of bizarre, being that kids were nowhere in sight. But I think what I was looking for was control. I didn’t want to repeat my childhood. And like many parts of my adult life, I thought if I could plan, I would remove any fear.
I wanted a city with plenty of job opportunities. The reason I moved so much as a kid was that in my dad’s industry, there were no other jobs for him in a 200-mile radius. This was before the rise of remote work, and I didn’t want to find a new job to require moving the whole family. If that meant a very small, run-down house in a metro area that would be fine. But we were staying put once we had kids. No starter home, either — one house till the kids are gone.
A recent study published in the journal JAMA Psychiatry found that Danish kids who moved more than once between the ages of 10 and 15 were 61 percent more likely to suffer from depression in adulthood compared to their classmates who did not move. “Even if you came from the most income-deprived communities, not moving — being a ‘stayer’ — was protective for your health,” said Dr. Sabel, a geographer who studies the effect of environment on disease, told The New York Times.
All those stats make sense. I have suffered from depression my entire life partly due to family history unrelated to the moves, and there’s no way to know what would have happened if we hadn’t been uprooted so often. But I know from firsthand experience that moving causes instability and loneliness. Not having permanence in your life can be unsettling and lead to feelings of abandonment from that lack of community. As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to live in a boring town with sidewalks. In rural New Hampshire, you might get of couple streets, but it’s mostly woods. I wanted to be woven into some sort of strong local fabric so, so badly. I wanted the community you saw in movies, with tree-lined streets and cranky neighbors.
My husband and I now live in the same house we bought in 2009. Sorry, millennials, it was just good timing. I have two kids, 11 and 8, and they have lived in this house their entire lives. I know the spot where I was standing when I found out I was pregnant, and I can point it out to them. I know where my son took his first steps and where I was when I got the call my grandmother had passed away. My house is 300 years old, and I feel part of that history.
They know our mailman and the people working at the grocery store. Their neighbors have watched them grow. They have gone to school with the same kids all this time. My town has about 20,000 people, so they get mixed up with new kids, but there is always a familiar face in a new class. And that feeling of community I always wanted is there.
My kids sometimes complain that we don’t have a large yard or big bedrooms. My husband is constantly eyeing other houses that we can’t afford. But I’m happy just staying put because I like the security of my home, even with all its quirks. An imperfect house has its advantages, too. And let me tell you, driving by a house you grew up in and not being to go inside because a new family lives there is truly heartbreaking. Nobody is buying my house and painting it some wacky color.
Sure, I’m guilty of looking at Zillow when I can’t sleep and dreaming of living in Maine or Vermont and having that big house with a large garden. And maybe I could swing it now that remote work has become so prevalent, but why? I can’t give up on what I have and the community I built. And I don’t blame my parents for making us move; they felt they had no choice. But I’ve chosen something different for my kids, and any sacrifices are totally worth it to me. I know what I want for them, and I’m going to make sure they get it.
Katy Elliott is the Personal Stories Editor at Scary Mommy. She loves to cook, garden, and chat with people about anything from how much you love your kids to how much your kids drive you up the wall. She’s a mom to two kids and lives in Marblehead, Massachusetts.
