Change is good, right?

I've always survived. There have been several near misses, mind you, but I'm still here. I just don't get why things have to be so hard. I grew up thinking that other people always had it better than me. As I've gotten older, even though I have seen for myself that not everyone has it better than me, I still see fit to complain. Why do I have such a difficult husband sometimes? Why are my children so emotionally draining, and they're not even in grade school yet? Am I just ill prepared for life in general? I think that my parents tried (very hard sometimes ) to instill in us the harsh realities of life. We had our share of dogs dying and budgies being poisoned. And certainly there were more than a few goldfish that went belly up - most notably the time my sister boiled my gold fish. She said it was an accident, that she was trying to make sure the water was clean. Our parents also uprooted us and moved about the country until well into my teens. This act, in and of itself is probably what defines me the most. I have always been on the move and have never been very good at sitting still. Even now, I fidget terribly whenever I go somewhere in the company of other adults. I sometimes feel like such a child. I feel like I was never given the chance to grow up because every time I tried, we moved.
I was six weeks old when I first saw my life packed up in boxes and shipped to where my dad was waiting for us. After that, every two to three years we did it all over again. I loved the adventure, but at the same time, I was terrified of what might be waiting for me. I never had the chance to get used to things. Life never became routine. People changed and so did the places, and looking back on it now, faces are jumbled together with street names and I can't really put my finger on why some things seem familiar. I always joke that I would be so much smarter if it weren't for the road maps in my head of the small towns and big cities in which I've lived.