Independence Day

Independence Day December 3, 2019 Today is the anniversary of the day I moved out....December 3, 2002. I had turned 17 about a week beforehand, and our family had just moved to what I will describe as a ramshackle old house in the country (said house would end up burning to the ground only a couple years later, thankfully no one, including the animals, were in it). I wasn't thrilled about the move. I didn't drive, and my mother used giving me a ride as a power play....being out of town would only make things more stressful for me in terms of getting to work, seeing friends. Beyond that, we had one bathroom to share between 6 people, one of them being her boyfriend who was an inconsistent hand washer and whose hygiene was circumspect on the best of days. I could feel my freedom, autonomy, and mental health waning as the move loomed over me. Even after the move, once my things were orderly in my room...I felt unsettled.

The night I made the leap, I packed what I knew I could survive on...four small boxes of mainly clothes, called a friend with a truck, and left, knowing in my heart the only part of this decision that would be hard was missing my siblings, my younger brother and two little sisters were staying behind. That part of the decision has never gotten easier.

Thankfully I had a place to go short term to start with. I crashed on a friend's couch. He owned a one bedroom house in the small town we had been living in, a friend of mine and her boyfriend rented the undeveloped basement. Suffice to say having me and my four boxes in the living room was not welcome long and I found a room to rent with a coworker who was a single mom renting an apartment with her toddler. Unfortunately I came down with mono over that Christmas break and had to quit my job from fatigue. As a result, I dropped out of school, quit my job and went to stay with my dad out of province.

Living with my dad, stepmom and little brother was a culture shock. My disordered eating went into overdrive and my resentment towards their seemingly perfect life in contrast to my own was too much for me to bear. I lasted a few months before moving back. But this time to an apartment with a roommate, to a job I held for three years, and to a second chance at my high school diploma.

Sucking it up, I went back to high school for a full year...taking grade 11 core subjects in first term and grade 12 the second. I filled in the rest of my credits with work experience - no problem as I was working full time to support myself on minimum wage. Paying my half the apartment rent, utilities, living expenses. I am proud to say that despite adding a year onto my timeline, I graduated from high school at the age of 18.

This year in particular, my independence day as I like to think of it, is special because this year will be the 17th anniversary. 17 years with my mother, 17 years without. Half my life living on my own terms away from that stress and instability. I have had my share of adversity, and it would take me another 4.5 years to fully end that relationship, but I am here, working every day towards healing from my past. Appreciating every moment I get to spend in this life with my girls and my husband. Grateful for that 17 year old girl's brave choice to go out into the unknown.

We don't know how resilient we are until we really need to show up for ourselves.

-Amanda