Left home

Maybe one of the most defining events of my life was moving out of my parents’ house when I was 16.

They had grown increasingly unhappy with how much time I was spending with Colleen, who was 4 years older. They were right to worry, but didn’t act together. They attempted to control me through disjointed and blunt measures like curfew and taking away the phone line I was paying for myself. The unusual freedom and decision participation I’d experienced most of my childhood was abruptly replaced with inconsistent application of authority.

I moved into Colleen’s apartment in South City. I don’t have regrets because my life turned out pretty well, but this was definitely a poor decision.

My mother objected but accepted I would make my own choice. My father was so angry he tried to physically restrain me. None of the actors in this play, myself included, handled the situation with sufficient grace for years to come.