Really, it's like this. When I was a teen and living at home after I got kicked out of college (too much sex, drugs and rock n roll), my parents decided to throw me out because I was a 'bad influence' on my siblings. (My brother told me recently he had no idea where I had disappeared to until about five years ago.) I was just gone, poof. I stood in my bedroom and threw my clothes out the window. I had been given a half hour to vacant. My boyfriend came over in his bug and loaded me up. We couch surfed until we found a squat where we stayed for a few months. There were padlocks on the doors. We moved to Boston so I could go to art school and we got minimum wage jobs. I worked in a health food store and I would steal food and honey out under my cape. I couldn't afford to pay tuition so I split for the West Coast (but that's another story).
So I'm never really safe. I'm still that sad girl without a family or stable housing. No matter that I have friends and children and a job I love, there is this belief that it could all go poof again. Selling my house, buying another one, freaks my shit out.