My family moved from Nova Scotia to New Hampshire when I was thirteen. Terrible age to be uprooted. Being newly inducted into the wonderful world of hormones and all things teen angsty, I did what any angry and self loathing teen would do, I escaped. Music, books (mostly fantasy), drugs, alcohol. Anything so I didn't have to feel what I felt.
In eleventh grade English class, we had to write a 'theme'. Some of you may remember the bumper stickers that read 'I'd rather be *fill in blank*'. That was our theme, so I chose 'I'd rather be Vegging out'. I wrote it specifically about getting stoned, while stoned, and promptly forgot about it after turning it in. Two weeks later the teacher returned the graded papers. I wish I could have seen the look on my face. Dumbfounded, dazed and confused maybe. She gave me an 'A' and told me I should submit it to a literary magazine. I didn't even remember writing it.
I wrote poetry for a number of years, mainly as a release of the frustration I felt for life in general. I stopped doing that and life got a whole lot worse (that would be the moral of this story! Just keep writing! )
Dad worked for Chrysler Corporation, and every time he got a promotion, we moved. We started with a move across town when my parents built and moved out of their starter home. Shortly after that he got a promotion and we moved to a city for ... two months ... before he was transferred to Atlanta. The family moved back to the house they built, which they hadn't sold yet, and later on to Atlanta. His next promotion would have taken him to Detroit, which he wouldn't consider, So he took a job with a dealer in a small town near an army base, and later bought it. We were there three years, for all of my Jr. High School. Then the base was about to be stripped of personnel, so he sold the dealership and bought a business in Cocoa Beach, Florida. That business didn't do so well, so after 18 months (middle of High School for me), he took a sales job in Jacksonville. After 18 months there I left for college.
With so MUCH moving, I rarely resented it. A couple of times I regretted leaving friends I'd gotten close to, but I was used to it, and the new place was always an adventure. Who would I meet? What would be on TV there? (That was in the day of three networks, lots of variety in syndicated programming and local programming). But each place we lived, I took valuable experience from. No regrets.
My wife's father was a Lutheran minister. THEY moved a lot. As a couple, we settled down. We lived in our first house for 11 years, and our second house for 27 years. We'd still be there, but it made good financial sense to get out of a high tax state and county, plus downsize.
How do I tie that to the topic? I believe all of that made me self-sufficient and confident, which are certainly good qualities to approach writing with.