Leaving Home

A family trudges down a dirt road, pulling their belongings behind in carts and wagons in Depression-era Oklahoma, for "Leaving Home" at Third Eve

Most Americans recognize the old American Express slogan: “Don’t leave home without it.” The warning is playful, but it rests on a serious truth—leaving home unprepared can have consequences.

Some departures are necessary and healthy, even transformative. Others go badly wrong, leaving deep psychic imprints. Lately, I’ve been wondering whether a leave-taking that falters can be redeemed. What does it take to set it right, and under what conditions is that possible?

This is a question I’ll return to often here at The Third Eve. I invite your thoughts and stories.

Though it risks oversimplifying a complex and often painful process, we can loosely categorize leave-taking into a few recurring patterns: the developmentally healthy departure (which is rarely without peril), and the more troubled versions—leaving too soon, leaving too late, or never leaving at all.

Archetypal stories of departure and separation are everywhere. In literature, the theme is foundational. The “Coming of Age” genre alone—reflected in over 100,000 Young Adult titles on Amazon—thrives on tales of necessary leave-taking and the search for identity that follows.1

Scripture offers its own powerful examples. In Genesis 2, we find the principle of leaving and cleaving—departing from one’s family of origin to forge a new bond in marriage. Soon after, Adam and Eve are cast out of Eden: a leave-taking not by choice, but by consequence. These two stories alone provide fertile ground for reflection.

Fairy tales and classical myths also teem with leave-takings, trials, and returns. These narratives—whether literary, religious, or folkloric—teach us that leaving is never just about geography. It’s about growth, risk, and transformation.

Developmental psychology offers archetypal frameworks for what is, on the surface, a simple biological fact: we grow up. From infancy through toddlerhood, childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood, children navigate a largely predictable sequence of developmental milestones.

Analytical psychology, particularly as developed by Jung and those who have expanded on his work, echoes this idea through the concept of individuation—a psychological maturation process thought to unfold in identifiable stages. To better understand how this process can falter, however, I want to begin with a theorist outside the Jungian tradition: Melanie Klein.

Klein, a pioneer in child psychoanalysis, developed what is now known as object relations theory. Her insights into early relational dynamics offer a powerful lens for understanding the foundations of the psyche. In fact, modern attachment theory—now widely applied in adoption, foster care, and child welfare—is a direct outgrowth of Klein’s work. For our purposes, her framework is particularly useful in exploring how early disruptions in connection can complicate or derail the natural course of separation and individuation.

There are countless tragic leave-takings—stories of orphans and others whose basic developmental needs for safety, containment, and nurturance were never met. For these young people, departure is not a step into autonomy but a forced evacuation from a landscape already barren. Their leave-taking is often chaotic, premature, and riddled with psychic fallout. No map was ever drawn for them; no one waited at the threshold to offer guidance or blessing.

Even in cases of older child adoption—where adoptive parents do stand at the threshold with open arms, guidance, and blessing—the support often comes too late to be fully received. By then, the child may be too defended, too wounded, too accustomed to fending for themselves to trust the very care they so desperately needed.

In other cases, where the early foundations were more or less intact, a different drama unfolds. A common thread in many strained leave-takings involves the adolescent who begins to diverge from the family script. Once seen as the perfect child, they are now labeled the problem—the identified patient. Under the banner of “tough love,” parents may expel this inconveniently large, iconoclastic offspring. Often, this act is less about the child’s rebellion and more about the parents’ own unfinished work—their projected fear, grief, and unintegrated selves.

“And good riddance,” the parents say.

But time has its own curriculum. Sooner or later, often in the quiet of late middle age, the tune of Cat’s in the Cradle begins to play—and the unexamined echoes of leave-takings past return for reckoning.



  1. Amazon, Coming of Age Book List, four-star ratings and higher, 2025. ↩︎

6 responses to “Leaving Home”

  1. Henitsirk Avatar

    I read “Hansel and Gretel” to my daughter when she was too young for it, and it clearly disturbed her. Not ready for leaving home and getting lost in the forest, or having mama die, or having an evil stepmother and hapless father abandon her!

  2. Eve Avatar

    Elizabeth, I’ve been doing a lot of reading in Jung and came across some ideas about narcissism recently. What I read was that narcissism as a disorder derives from being stuck in the containment stage of individuation. That is, the person is pretty much stuck in childhood. They never (probably) received the containing they needed, and now they’re stuck in that vast, gaping universe of always being needy. I’m reminded of the children’s book, “More, More, More Said the Baby!”

    The narcissist has needs that simply drive her to insist that others do nothing but serve her, meet her needs, admire, nurture, and even worship her. Criticism is not allowed!

    This is a person whose life is an open wound. Though they act like King Baby, they are much like the Queen of Heart’s baby in Alice in Wonderland, a huge bawling mass of humanity whose needs have never been met and now cannot be met unconditionally in adulthood because they are, well… adults!

    The world outside isn’t set up to meet their childish needs that weren’t met during childhood. And so they try and try and try to get them met, without any hope of actually ever getting them met.

    It seems impossible to me that a parent would seek to have a child meet their needs, but it happens all the time, as I’m sure you can attest to. A part of me thinks that narcissists are the worst kind of personality disorder, because in some ways they don’t seem as crazy as those with other disorders (if that makes sense). It can be tricky, dealing with someone with NPD.

    Anyway, just some thoughts on narcissism. On the one hand I feel so much compassion for people who are that way. They’ve never had what they needed, and they then passed on that same curse to their children. On the other hand, they are the parents, darn it! You didn’t deserve to be an object to satisfy their desires, either.

    Thank God there is a God who can “give back the years the locust has eaten.” Elizabeth, I really think you are a hero. You’ve lost so much and yet, you’re strong and beautiful.

  3. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Eve I gasped when I read the quote above because a few years ago I said to my mother “You reap what you sow” and she flew into a narcissistic rage.

    I’m trying to remember the context. I think she was ranting about me not giving her any grand-children, and that was my reply.

  4. deb Avatar

    We kicked our son out at age seventeen, something I would not do now, knowing what I now know. But at the time I had a very young, very demanding handicapped daughter to care for. At the time I did what I thought was best, partly I can see now, because I didn’t know any better. Leaving my own parents involved me running from their home as fast as I could because my parents, I don’t know how to explain my parents. My parents were both neglectful and over controlling at the same time. I was allowed a great deal of freedom growing up, with regards to reading and education but the rest of my life was tightly controlled.

    But I didn’t know how to leave home gracefully and my parents didn’t know how to let me go either. I moved out while they were away on holidays to avoid the drama that would ensue once they got home. And there was drama. It happened again a few years later when I packed up my young son and moved to another city. The weeping, the yelling, it was awful. Living with my parents was awful and I wanted to get away from that in the worst way.

    Needless to say, I brought the drama along with me. What else could I do? It’s all I knew. I carried that drama on for years, only letting it go recently. My children all suffered for it, especially my son. Even writing this my stomach knots up and I start to cry. My love for my son, for all of my children, has not diminished one bit since the day they were born.

    I’m looking forward to some advice on how to finish launching myself and how to be in my son’s life again. I’m thinking the whole leaving my husband smacks a little of reliving my adolescence now that I think of it. As for my son, I miss him. He comes and goes but I miss him.

    Eve responds: Deb, I’m going to try to follow this thread of leaving to wherever it wants to go, so am not really sure as I type this exactly where that will be. This is one of those subjects I’ve thought about a great deal, but written very little about, so it feels like going through a cave and groping to find one’s way along the dank walls.

    Try not to judge yourself prematurely and also not to expect profundity from me at this point, haha. For all I know, this thing unfolding inside me is more of a Mickey Mouse cartoon than a meaningful commentary on leaving home. ;o)

  5. MommaRuth Avatar
    MommaRuth

    Eve, I have never considered that a home leaving blessing is indeed, a blessing. Of course, now that you mention it, it is an awesome and powerful thing. I think of my friend who left/got thrown out. She is my age (30ish), and struggles so profoundly. I am so very proud of her and her continued struggle to find her inner hearth and home. I pointed her to you blog. I’m sure she will find something of help.
    Thanks for writing from your heart.

    Eve responds: Ruth, I have to agree that leaving well is such a blessing; not everyone gets that (perhaps not most!), and so if we’ve been able to leave with any amount of grace and well-being, it’s a gift these days. I hope your friend visits and finds me hospitable. And I also hope s/he was forewarned that I run with scissors.

  6. Elizabeth Avatar
    Elizabeth

    Well I’ll be reading with great interest. I’d like to think that my “parents” will get their “comeuppance” but thus far that only seems like a pipe dream.

    Eve responds: Elizabeth, death comes to everyone, and it’s a solitary journey. There’s always that for your parents. And then there is old age for most of us, the great leveler and great giver of come-uppances. I’ve always liked the way this Bible verse reads, the way it sounds when you read it out loud: “Be not deceived; God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that also shall he reap.” Read that out loud a few times and let me know how it resonates with regard to your parents.

    (The down side is that it resonates for everyone; and puts us in a sort of a bind, doesn’t it, when we think about comeuppances…!)

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