Moving across the country at three years old was another part of the pattern that shaped my childhood. I had moved 22 times and attended nine different schools by age 21. Each new city and school brought the weight of being the new kid again, along with a heartfelt hope that, this time, the friendships I made would finally last. But every time, goodbyes followed. As much as I tried to make the most of each connection, that cycle of starting over made loneliness familiar, a default way of life.

Each time I started over, the cycle of making friends and letting them go became routine. No matter how hard I tried to hold on to connections, the relentless cycle of leaving made loneliness an undeniable part of my life. These moves affected far more than just friendships; they chipped away at my sense of identity, stability, and belonging. I became used to drifting, a loner without a firm foundation. Yet, somehow, I found others along the way who understood that feeling, people who had also been through trauma and instability. We were a kind of supportive, dysfunctional family, finding comfort in each other’s stories of rootlessness even if we never talked about our trauma.

By the time I was 13, things began to change. Little by little, I started forming deeper connections and enduring longer than before. I made two lasting friendships with people who stayed in my life despite the constant moves, becoming my steady point in a world that felt like it was constantly shifting. I slowly built more of these long-term bonds through high school and beyond. Each one felt like a small triumph, a reminder that I could find connection and belonging even after so many years of goodbyes.

Today, I’m grateful for social media, which has allowed me to reconnect with many people I lost along the way. Now, I see that those little connections, the friendships that lasted against all odds, were pieces of the foundation I was searching for all along.