This article is spot on with my experience. My parents decided to move me + my brother to a small, po-dunk town of 80,000 people from Houston (one of the largest USA) the summer I turned 13. I had already been at a different middle school for 6th and a different school for 7th, and no on to my 3rd school in 3 years, and this one in a different city. I already had problems with bullying in the public schools, and we were moving to a small town so my parents didn’t have to deal with “city life” and they were hoping small town life would be more quaint. Well, only people who have never lived in small towns think that — because in actuality in small towns there isn’t enough for kids to do, and people are possibly more menacing/vindictive/two-faced in a small town, not to mention 10,000 years behind everyone else in terms of education. Fast forward to my move and it was absolutely horrible. I was already depressed because my parents were moving and just hoping for the best, which it turns out made everything worse for their relationship as well. My brother acted out from the move and took it out on me, while my parents ignored us because they were embattled in their own demons. I dropped all the extra-curricular activities I used to do because now most were unavailable or cliques were already formed (imagine being a young girl — there are always cliques). No more dance, soccer, art lessons, sewing lessons, swim team — I left all my friends on all my teams, my church — which now I am anti-religion if anything, and I never really had friends at school so I was more in fear that I would face even more bullying from even more people. Needless to say, all of this on top of me I was highly depressed, anxious, stressed, isolated. My years in this town were hellacious. I was bullied even more than ever before — new girl in 8th grade, private school, from the big city in the small town, and I was always rebellious but this made it even more so. I got into all kinds of trouble and almost didn’t make it out. I still struggle dealing with the trauma of that move. I think about it and it was the most depressed I have ever been in my life. Just thinking about it makes me feel those unbearable feelings of hopelessness, depression, isolation/loneliness, and desperation for someone to come save me from it all. I’m sure I’m more of the “worst case-scenario” but I guarantee that if I ever had kids I will never, ever move them. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I would give up many other things just to have had a “normal” childhood not moving and staying in my beloved childhood home. My parents + brother were never a constant to me and neither were my homes, so I still have to go through life wondering if things will just be ripped away from me. I also have a hard time making friends because I am just so afraid that someone will make fun of me/just be friends with me out of pity or as a dare/joke as what happened to me in high school/middle school.
Think twice before you rip your child from their roots.
