I need some perspective.
Most of the people I know and know of seem to think a stable home is vitally important for a family. When I use the word stable in this context, I mean it in a physical sense. We could discuss emotional stability, mental stability, spiritual stability, etc., but my thoughts are currently turned to a more tangible sphere.
Back to the point, a lot of people seem to place high value on physical stability, particularly when talking about families, and my present question is "Why?." I don't disagree with them, but I also can't say that I agree completely.
Maybe my childhood is to blame for my wondering. It certainly is for my wandering. The longest I've lived anywhere is approximately 3.5 years, and that seemed like an eternity to me. My average is markedly shorter. Not only that, I've traveled most of my life almost like it was my job. It's not been quite that extreme, and some seasons are more full than others, but for someone who doesn't get paid to bop around the landscape, I've done it remarkably a lot.
As the person I am now typing this, I don't regret my life at all. I do wonder from time to time what staying in one place would be like, but never do I regret or feel mistreated. When I was younger, the nigh constant flux was a lot for me to handle; so much that it caused a lot of tears. Perhaps that's why people bestow such importance on staying in one place: to save their children from distress. I understand that. Well, I understand that as best as I can from my non-parent perspective. And if I may be so bold as to also speak this from that perspective, as much sympathy as I have for that position, I suspect too many parents are overprotective.
"No!" I hear you say. "That can't be! Don't insult my quality as a parent!" you admonish. "It sounds like your parents weren't protective enough." Maybe. I won't say there's no room for you to be right. But, although I can't claim to know all of their thoughts, I'm willing to bet I know my parents better than you do, and I wouldn't call them neglectful at all. I know the moving our family has done for the past quarter-century was not at the core of what they believed was important for us, especially not in my mom's heart. My dad didn't specifically want it anymore than she did, but he handled it better. Both of them wanted their own home where they could be together, build their life, raise their kids, and give each of us a platform from which to launch out to develop our own lives. That sounds nice, doesn't it? But life...God...dictated differently, and they were willing...forced...to go along and try to make the best of it. I think they've done an admirable job. Had they organized their and our lives as they wanted, we wouldn't have left the region where I was born. Even though it was difficult for me initially, speaking now as a 24-year-old product of physical instability, I'm grateful they didn't insist on having...weren't allowed to have...their way.
Is this an odd perspective to have? Or more accurately, is this appropriate? Acceptable? I guess the more pressing question (to my mind) is are we...am I...just an anomaly? I think I've fared rather well with a transient life, and I presume others would do the same given the opportunity, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe most people would curl into a ball, either physical or metaphorical, and become bitter and mad at the world. I don't know.
What makes me wonder about this are speculations on my future, which now seems so near and simultaneously so far, and time spent with people at stations of life I have yet to reach. When I hear them speak I wonder if they know something I don't. In fact, I assume they know something I don't. I want to believe there are things I don't understand and can't until I reach the same side of the bridge. I can't help but think, though, and want to give my experience as much credit as I possibly can.
When I combine the full credit of that experience with the voices of my inward leanings, I get a message that says, "Looks like settling down's not for you." Maybe partially settling down would be okay, but planting my feet as two deep-reaching roots would be a stretch. My wondering then becomes, what does that do for my chances of having a family, or more specifically a healthy family?
Thus we are back to where I began. I seek to understand why so I can make better decisions. Or at least informed decisions. I can see myself living in the same place, maybe actually more the same general area, for a long period of years, but not spending all day, every day there for large chunks of time, and certainly not owning the space in which I live. I know. I'm weird. Who doesn't want their own house? Particularly what woman doesn't want her own house? Me, apparently. What I want to know is can I be this brand of weird and not destroy my family? And can I drag my kids out all over creation as I'm out doing whatever it is I'm doing while not at home without devastating them? Or will I have to leave them frequently for short periods of time and will that frequent absence be more harm than it's worth? Will meeting a man be the beginning of my staying in one place? Will my inevitable choice be transience or family?
And then there's the question that could trump them all: as my life progresses, will I change so much that all these wonderings won't matter anymore, won't even be relevant anymore?
Most of the people I know and know of seem to think a stable home is vitally important for a family. When I use the word stable in this context, I mean it in a physical sense. We could discuss emotional stability, mental stability, spiritual stability, etc., but my thoughts are currently turned to a more tangible sphere.
Back to the point, a lot of people seem to place high value on physical stability, particularly when talking about families, and my present question is "Why?." I don't disagree with them, but I also can't say that I agree completely.
Maybe my childhood is to blame for my wondering. It certainly is for my wandering. The longest I've lived anywhere is approximately 3.5 years, and that seemed like an eternity to me. My average is markedly shorter. Not only that, I've traveled most of my life almost like it was my job. It's not been quite that extreme, and some seasons are more full than others, but for someone who doesn't get paid to bop around the landscape, I've done it remarkably a lot.
As the person I am now typing this, I don't regret my life at all. I do wonder from time to time what staying in one place would be like, but never do I regret or feel mistreated. When I was younger, the nigh constant flux was a lot for me to handle; so much that it caused a lot of tears. Perhaps that's why people bestow such importance on staying in one place: to save their children from distress. I understand that. Well, I understand that as best as I can from my non-parent perspective. And if I may be so bold as to also speak this from that perspective, as much sympathy as I have for that position, I suspect too many parents are overprotective.
"No!" I hear you say. "That can't be! Don't insult my quality as a parent!" you admonish. "It sounds like your parents weren't protective enough." Maybe. I won't say there's no room for you to be right. But, although I can't claim to know all of their thoughts, I'm willing to bet I know my parents better than you do, and I wouldn't call them neglectful at all. I know the moving our family has done for the past quarter-century was not at the core of what they believed was important for us, especially not in my mom's heart. My dad didn't specifically want it anymore than she did, but he handled it better. Both of them wanted their own home where they could be together, build their life, raise their kids, and give each of us a platform from which to launch out to develop our own lives. That sounds nice, doesn't it? But life...God...dictated differently, and they were willing...forced...to go along and try to make the best of it. I think they've done an admirable job. Had they organized their and our lives as they wanted, we wouldn't have left the region where I was born. Even though it was difficult for me initially, speaking now as a 24-year-old product of physical instability, I'm grateful they didn't insist on having...weren't allowed to have...their way.
Is this an odd perspective to have? Or more accurately, is this appropriate? Acceptable? I guess the more pressing question (to my mind) is are we...am I...just an anomaly? I think I've fared rather well with a transient life, and I presume others would do the same given the opportunity, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe most people would curl into a ball, either physical or metaphorical, and become bitter and mad at the world. I don't know.
What makes me wonder about this are speculations on my future, which now seems so near and simultaneously so far, and time spent with people at stations of life I have yet to reach. When I hear them speak I wonder if they know something I don't. In fact, I assume they know something I don't. I want to believe there are things I don't understand and can't until I reach the same side of the bridge. I can't help but think, though, and want to give my experience as much credit as I possibly can.
When I combine the full credit of that experience with the voices of my inward leanings, I get a message that says, "Looks like settling down's not for you." Maybe partially settling down would be okay, but planting my feet as two deep-reaching roots would be a stretch. My wondering then becomes, what does that do for my chances of having a family, or more specifically a healthy family?
Thus we are back to where I began. I seek to understand why so I can make better decisions. Or at least informed decisions. I can see myself living in the same place, maybe actually more the same general area, for a long period of years, but not spending all day, every day there for large chunks of time, and certainly not owning the space in which I live. I know. I'm weird. Who doesn't want their own house? Particularly what woman doesn't want her own house? Me, apparently. What I want to know is can I be this brand of weird and not destroy my family? And can I drag my kids out all over creation as I'm out doing whatever it is I'm doing while not at home without devastating them? Or will I have to leave them frequently for short periods of time and will that frequent absence be more harm than it's worth? Will meeting a man be the beginning of my staying in one place? Will my inevitable choice be transience or family?
And then there's the question that could trump them all: as my life progresses, will I change so much that all these wonderings won't matter anymore, won't even be relevant anymore?
So this is interesting to me, because I think it works out different for everyone. I basically grew up in one house -- still live there actually, and feeling ready to move. I wonder what I might have missed by not being forced to move around. I don't feel too connected to my town, because I've spent so many years splitting my time between where I live and where I work. Yet the stability, knowing beyond a doubt where my roots are, is kind of nice for me, because I like things to be decided. (The J to my INFJ)
ReplyDeleteContrast that with my mom, who came from a broken family and moved around a lot as a kid, and my dad, who grew up in one place until he joined the Navy. Maybe that's why they wanted to give us a stable life? Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd been born during his military days.
Hmm. I'm just rambling now, but it is an interesting thing to think about. I figure as long as you and your future husband find agreement on what "stability" means to you, you'll be fine. :) For some families, I think emotional and spiritual stability can only grow in physical movement. Does that make sense?
Rambling is okay. This whole post was a grand ramble session.
DeleteI agree with your statement that it works out differently for different people. My dad, for instance, moved just as much as I did, if not more, growing up, and he hasn't been particularly interested in moving as an adult. He's not especially bothered by it, but I know he would have liked to settle down a long time ago.
I wonder if part of your desire to move (and I've wondered this about myself too) comes from wanting to have your own life apart from your family. If granted your ideal living situation, you may be perfectly content to never move again. I don't know the kinds of pressure, if any, you may feel living with your family, but I often feel that if I could just have my own life, I might not be so antsy anymore.
I also feel like I know where my roots are. In a sense. No matter where my parents, brothers and I have been, my grandparents and most members of my extended family have all been in the same area. My mom's mom has even been in the same house since before my mom was born. And it's the same area where I was born, so ever since we left when I was six, I've always been able to come back "home." Maybe that's why I call it such. I've lived away longer than I've lived there (here, I could say, since I'm sitting in my grandma's house), but it's where I began. At this point in my life I don't think I could live here again, so it seems a bit of an oxymoron. But maybe there's a part of me that still wants home, and is consoled by just calling it by name and doesn't need it so much in actuality.
And your last statement makes perfect sense. That's actually at the core of why I'm so grateful for all the physical movement. I think we're all better off emotionally and spiritually for it, and I don't know how we could have grown had we stayed in one place. I actually cringe when I speculate about what life would have been like had we never moved. I can't know, obviously, but based on what I do know, my best guesses aren't too encouraging.
We'll see. I'll have to find a man first. Or he'll have to find me. We'll find each other. Something like that.
Yes, I think that's definitely a large part of it. I'm restless to grow more, and I don't think that will happen as long as I stay planted here. As rough as it can be to have an hour commute in my daily work life, I'm glad for it because it does put one foot out of my hometown and into who I am as a person, apart from my family. I just squirm so much over uncertainty that I struggle to take the other foot out. :)
Delete"But maybe there's a part of me that still wants home, and is consoled by just calling it by name and doesn't need it so much in actuality."
That makes sense. It's good to have a place you can go back to, where you can have your memories and family roots, but not necessarily live there. That's how I think my town will feel for me someday.
As for that last statement... I was thinking of another friend of mine that moved many times before I knew her. Her dad was in the military first, then he went to seminary, and they moved so much that she says no place really felt like home anymore. But they are one of the kindest, closest families I know, so I suspect all that moving and struggle was worth it. You'd like them. :)
Haha. Truth. You'll find each other, in time. That's what I keep telling myself!
"I just squirm so much over uncertainty that I struggle to take the other foot out."
DeleteI think we are much alike. :) Another one of the many reasons I've been grateful for how I grew up is precisely because I had to adapt to discomfort or languish. I'm grateful I haven't done the latter. When I was a kid, I never pushed myself to do anything and spent much of my time trying to "soften the blows" of the unsettling circumstances of my life. But now, I often intentionally put myself in situations that I know are going to be uncertain or challenging just because I know how rewarding they can be. It's weird! So weird. But it's good.
It does sound like I would like that family. I've met people like that and they're so inspiring. I see some of that in us, so finding others who have similar stories and have grown so much because of it is encouraging to me; proof that all of our struggle just might be worth it, too. I mean, there's much of it that I have already found worth in - a lot, a lot - but there are other things I still wonder about. People like the ones you described are such a treasure for that reason, among many others.
I'm telling myself the same thing! When I consider the way most of my life has turned out so far, particularly the important events, I've just about determined that it's probably going to come out of nowhere without me trying to find anyone at all. So if my hand can't affect it, obviously it'll just have to happen when the time is right. I suppose I'll know when it happens. :)