Creating my own home

What my childhood taught me about finding stability

An illustration of a woman standing on the front porch of a house, holding a suitcase in her hand. // Illustration by Julia Vreeman

Written by Bella Neff

It’s a Sunday, I’m 15 years old and I’m packing my bags again.

Each item goes in its respective bag, and I double-check my room to ensure I have not forgotten anything. This weekly routine has become mundane, I feel like I’m on autopilot.

I load my belongings into the trunk of my mom’s car, and she drives me to my dad’s house — where I will spend the upcoming week until the next Sunday comes — and I do it again.

Like many others, my parents divorced when I was young. As of 2017, one of every two marriages ends in divorce according to the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry.

By the time I turned 18, the last 13 years of my life while living with my parents consisted of this routine. I had become an expert at packing and organizing out of necessity. I grew to accept this dynamic as normal.

This sort of arrangement has become more common in society. Over the past 40 years, a dual residence upbringing has gone from rare to “a feasible option for parents in many countries,” according to a study published in The Journal of Family Studies.

I was privileged to have both parents within a 10-minute drive of each other my entire life. Both were hardworking, dependable and loving, and have continued to stay involved in my life — something that I am deeply grateful for. It wasn’t anyone’s fault their marriage didn’t work, but I was faced with dealing with the repercussions.

Divorce is like an earthquake for parents, but children must face the aftershocks.

I tried my best to not think about how drained I was by this; and I think my parents could sense that, too. They reassured me that if it ever became too much, I could choose one house. But as a child, how do you tell one of your parents you don’t want to live with them anymore? How do you make that decision? As an only child, the choice was up to me alone.

While my packing skills were perfected, I also became well-versed in avoiding my emotions. You don’t have a lot of time to self-reflect and process things when you are switching houses every week. It never occurred to me how this upbringing would affect my life after moving out.

Like most teenagers, I fought with my parents on occasion, however I had the ability of leaving when I got upset or frustrated. It felt like a nice arrangement at the time, I would just go to my other parent’s house, return a week later and move on. This was neither healthy or productive for me as I was growing up.

I wasn’t taught how to really process my emotions and I kept myself preoccupied by investing a lot of my time in extracurriculars like high school Associated Student Body, YMCA programs and tennis. These places and activities provided me with consistency and routine.

I was used to staying busy, and my childhood gave me a love for being on the go. While this made me an easily adaptable person, I didn’t know how to adapt into just one home.

I came to Western Washington University in 2019. I still remember the day I moved into the dorms. My mom, dad and bonus mom were equally excited and sad that I was growing up and moving out. I can recall feeling eager for my new independence and nervous about the unknown.

Those first few months living on campus were difficult. I roomed with one of my best friends from childhood, which helped me feel at home, but I wasn’t used to being stuck in one place with my thoughts. Without any extracurriculars to distract myself with, I felt lost.

The consistency of returning to my dorm, around the same group of people whom I lived with, felt unfamiliar. I grew to find a certain sense of comfort around these people I was only beginning to know. The friendships I made with the people I was living around helped me find stability in this new way of life.

I discovered a lot about myself during that time period, but I also found that this transition is challenging for everyone. Each person I met was trying to find a new sense of stability and attempting to create a new home for themselves too.

I was able to find my home and enjoy the security and comfort it had to offer.

As the sun beamed in through the trees into my outdated and small dorm room, I remember feeling as if I was at summer camp. The reality that this would be my new home for the coming months had yet to set in.

After my parents said their goodbyes, I can remember sitting in the Delta 229 dorm looking at all my belongings, all in one place. I felt excited as I tucked away my duffel bags under my bed.

I wouldn’t need them every Sunday anymore.