Oh, to have lived in one place

There are times I really envy my husband.

And no, I’m not talking penis envy.

Today we loaded the whole family in the van to go to my husband’s old elementary school in hopes of meeting old classmates.  He had set up this reunion on Facebook.  Unfortunately, no one showed up.  My husband, however, still enthusiastically pointed the house he grew up in, which was right across the street, and described how it was different when he lived there.  He pointed out things about the school, which is in the process of being torn down at the same time as something else is being built.  He also pointed out where his friends lived and things about the playground that was nearby.

My envy about his having lived in one place his whole life.  An elementary school reunion for me would have to be for 3 different schools in 2 different cities in 2 different provinces.  Junior high would take 2 different schools in 2 different cities in the same province.  High school would be the same as elementary, except for it’s 3 cities in 2 provinces.

There’s no reunions for me. 

I guess you could also factor in that I didn’t finish high school when I should have.  I dropped out at 16, went back at 18, and still didn’t finish – I got married and babies instead.  Then I got my diploma at an adult school when I was about 25.  So this part would be my fault.  But even if I had finished school when I should have, there’d still be no reunions for me.

Sometimes I envy the stable childhood my husband had; staying in one city, having friends to grow up with (or just having friends at all).  It kind of makes me blue when I think about it.

I try to see God’s purpose for me behind the constant moving we did when I was a child, but I have never been able to see any.  Those purposes, I guess, belonged to my parents, as were the decisions to move.  I guess there’s no reason  or need for me to know what went on between God and my parents in these decisions. 

What makes it the most difficult for me was that on top of often being the new kid, in all those many places we lived, I never really had friends.  The one’s I had were pretty much always just fair weather friends, and as such, I grew up not believing that anybody would ever stick with me.  The one’s that have (if that’s what you want to call it) I hear from maybe once a year, if that.  I try once in a while to get communication going again, but it always stops.  My friendships now consist of email forwards and facebook pictures and pretty much nothing else.  It does get kind of lonely. 

I know my lack of friends is mostly my fault.  I have never, even when I really wanted to, been able to conform to what everyone else does and wears and whatever.  I remember in grade 5 or 6, even trying to pick on another girl, who got picked on besides me, with the popular girls to see if that helped.  But I couldn’t do it.  As the rest of the girls skipped off, I was apologizing to her.  Doing that certainly made me less than cool.

Having re-commited my life to God also made renewing most old acquaintances unlikely.  One even removed me from her friend list on Facebook when she asked me a question that God had to be the answer to.  It seems like when you’ve become a very different person from what you once were, the people who accepted what you once were don’t want to accept what you’ve become.  Or that’s how it is for me for the most part.

This is all why I have been trying, though not succeeding very much, to let go of my past completely. 

I know that I keep holding on to it.

I just wish I knew why.


About Sharon

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