“Where are you from?” This is the hardest question I am asked to answer on a regular basis. Each time I am asked, I tend to say something different. Or just a whole state, rather than a town.

By the time I went to high school, I’d gone to nine schools, a different one for each grade. Friends came and went, a few stuck, but by the time I got to ninth grade I wasn’t in contact with anyone that I had met previously. It didn’t bother me really; I never got attached to people, it wasn’t my thing.

I usually take claim to the town I went to high school in, since I did stay at that school for four years. That was the longest I’d ever stuck around anywhere. Even in that time frame, I lived in five different homes, moving out of district by 15 miles at one point. It was important to my parents that I graduate from the school I started at, which I was thankful for.

Moving away to college was moderately hard, but moving around was part of my life, so I was OK with it. Up until this point, I had resented the fact that my parents couldn’t sit still. I hated that everyone I met had lifelong best friends or a childhood home. I longed for that, even feeling homesick at times -- until I realized the place I was fantasizing about didn’t even exist.

My gypsy tendencies started to materialize during my second year of college. I wanted to leave. It was part boredom, and part that I just didn’t like the place, so I left. My parents had developed an even more nomadic lifestyle than before I graduated, moving between south Florida and New York every six months. My stay at home between schools was brief since they were leaving to a new location soon. I applied and got into a different college, packed my car and headed south.

Here is where I had my epiphany. In my brief stay at my high school hometown, I realized that most of the people I had graduated with were now back home going to community college locally. They were still in the same friend groups and working at the same places.

I don’t say this to put them down because there is nothing wrong with going back to your roots. For years I wanted the roots they had. I’ve come to realize there are three things you must be able to do in order to move forward in adulthood: leave your home, be flexible with your plans and adapt to changes quickly.

Never living in a place for more than a year makes it really hard to become attached to it. Belongings are just that – belongings. I can fit almost everything I own in my Passat. I don’t miss my physical things when I go, just like I don’t miss the physical place of my home. It also makes it hard for me to go home when my parents are in temporary housing that is usually either a studio or a one bedroom. Running home when things get tough isn’t an option; I am forced to stick it out and find new ways to deal with whatever I’m facing.

Another key component of adulthood is being flexible. Moving around forces flexibility. I never was a planner. I could think things out weeks or a month in advance, but never more than that. My mom used to joke that every time we hung a picture, it was time to leave, so we avoided doing decorating altogether. My plans for school and what I wanted to be were constantly changing, which my counselors saw as a negative, but I still see as a positive. College students are so caught up in one plan. They think that if they don’t get a job in what they’ve studied, they have failed. I blame the school system for this one. They drilled in our head that we needed a plan and that we had to stick to it. Unfortunately, none of us are guaranteed what we plan for, no matter the measures we take to get there. You have to be flexible, life isn’t following your plan as closely as you are.

Finally, adapting to change is imperative to your success as an adult. New people and places are part of moving around. It never is easy, but with practice, it gets easier. For those students who have never experienced change, college is a shock to the system. Everything changes the instant you are dropped off by your parents. Sometimes, it’s too much for students. For me, it felt like just another move, something I’d done a dozen times already by the time I went to college. I still struggled a lot, but much less than some of my peers. When my first school didn’t work out, I applied to another. I changed my major. I moved out of state and made it work. The fear of change is a dangerous thing and it can hold you back more than you think. Life isn’t slowing down for you or anyone else -- you adapt to it or you don’t -- but its course won’t be stopped no matter what you choose.

I still sometimes wish I had a place to go home to on the holidays that was familiar and "homey," but I can always go see my family and those are the only roots I need. Growing up is never going to go smoothly and I feel lucky to be ahead of the curve.