Sorry. 
My husband’s children moved in with us after their mother’s death a couple of years ago, but never really settled in. His daughter soon moved back in with her stepfather, which seemed inappropriate to us, but it was okay with him, and she just wanted to go back to her old home. Then she moved in with her boyfriend. She has since gotten a job and completed high school, so I guess that’s a successful launch, but she and her dad have had a rocky relationship since she left.
I temporarily dropped out of college when I was 18. I packed a small suitcase with a change of clothing and a few essentials, and took a Greyhound to NYC. When I got there I had $17 in my pocket and stayed in a seedy hotel for a couple bucks a night. Luckily I got a job on my second day there, and a coworker lent me a few bucks till payday. After my first payday I “moved up” to a room at the Y.
I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, and called my parents from NYC when I got a job. Of course they had been worried, but kind of knew I wanted to live there anyway. They had both lived in NYC during the Depression, before they were married.
College at 18, military at 19. For the first couple of years after getting out of the service we (I was married with a son by then) stayed with our folks on a very much now and again short term basis.
I ran away at 17 but ended up getting arrested for “stealing” my car (because it was in my mom’s name). I spent a month in a runaway shelter run by the city (basically jail in a house) and then another month in a foster home (basically jail in a house, but I had to watch their bratty other kids for free, too) then I went to live with my dad in Florida until I turned 18. I returned to Arizona during Christmas break, before my February birthday. My dad came and got an apartment with me and when I turned 18 he moved out and went back to his house in Florida, leaving me with the apartment which was then in my name.
I was 21. I had lived at home with my parents while I was studying at uni, paying rent to them, because I had a scholarship. My brother and sister, who did not have scholarships, also lived at home while doing their tertiary studies, but paid a much lesser amount in board. My parents made it absolutely clear to us that they were happy to support us through until graduation, but that from then on we had to fend for ourselves. One night at the dinner table, they just announced that they were putting the house on the market and moving out of Sydney. My brother and sister rented a place together. I, with the benefit of the scholarship money that I had saved, was able to scrape together the deposit to buy my first flat. Within three months of my parents’ announcement we had all left home.
I always chuckle when I hear friends talking about the difficulties of getting their adult children to move out of the family home. I suggest they take a leaf out of my parents’ book.
Nothing to add here, except that this typo made me giggle. 
Pretty much drama-free.
Lived at home my first few years of college, working part-time and going to school full-time. Paid my own tuition, books, entertainment and transportation for the most part ( no loans, no aid ). Mostly received free room and board, though I started paying token rent towards the very end. I wasn’t excessively coddled - I did my own laundry ( had since I was a teen ) and increasingly cooked my own meals, such that it was just a little closer to a boarding house environment. Also some general chores like vacuuming, washing dishes, mowing the lawn and the like ( also stuff I had been doing since I was 12 ).
At 21 got a full-time job ( kept going to school part-time ) and moved out shortly thereafter - no muss, no fuss. Was quite happy to do so. Living at home hadn’t been an intolerable burden, but neither had it been 100% comfortable.
I got married. I was 25.
I got along just fine with my parents, they didn’t mind having me at home, and it was a heck of a lot cheaper than moving out.
I ‘moved in’ to our apartment at some point during the week before our wedding.
Graduated at 18 and got a job. After being able to support myself for a year (and save money), I moved out on my own at 19. Lots of guilt trips from my mom, but overall, realitively drama-free.
Graduated high school, my mom basically told me “get a job & start paying rent or move out”. So I joined the Air Force on a delayed enlistment (about 6 months), and the tune changed to “Don’t leave!”. But hey, the contract had been signed, the oath taken. And I really wanted a change of scenery anyway.
Gulf War. I was taking a year off before going to university, and I was already an Army reservist. As a young 18 year old, I was indestructible and immortal (naturally), and my Russian M.I. unit wasn’t going to the Gulf, so I decided that I’d go Regular Army and participate in the Gulf War myself. Of course the red tape resulted in the war being over long, long before I was released from my reserve unit and actually in the regular army, but oh, well.
Funny thing is… my reserve unit started reporting me absent while I was in the regular army, warned that I’d face discipline, and even managed to track me down in Fort Gordon, GA. It wasn’t military information that gave away my location; they got my forwarding address from the post office!
Went to college at 18… came back for a couple of summers, and holidays, etc…
After college, voluntarily lived with my family for 5 months rent-free with the intent of saving up a nest-egg to get my own apartment and furnishings. (I have smart, cool parents)
Did it, moved out promptly 5 months later, haven’t gone back except to visit and on holidays.
Mom died when I was in my last year of high school.
Dad, who fell apart without his long time enabler, decided to move 2000 mi. away to live with my married sister, thinking that she would support him while he drank. I didn’t see this as a possibility (she and I had had a brief discussion, earlier, about duty to parents) so when he asked me if I was coming, I declined.
I found a 2-room apartment upstairs in a house, found a jobette, and that was that.
an seanchai
My mother tore down the house and gave me 24 hours notice to move out. I’m still mad at her about it. If I was a renter and she was my landlord, by law she has to give me 30 days notice. My relationship with her changed after that. I hardly see or talk to her even though we live about 10 minutes apart. When she wants me to visit, I’ll turn her down about 75% of the time.
I was 19 living at home and going to college, (mainly fucking off) doing drugs and coming home drunk 3-4 times a week.
My dad finally got fed up with me and yelled, " why don’t you join the Marines or something"?
So I did. Guess I showed him, humph!
It turned out for the best in the long run but while I was getting screamed at in boot camp I was thinking maybe I was a little hasty in my decision.
After college, I went back home for a year (sat around doing nothing, didn’t even get a job), then moved out to go to grad school in another state.
I had a really hard time in high school. Failed 9th grade twice and then transferred to a different school where I did much better, but even going summers it took me another 3 years, so high school was 5 years total. Once I got done, I was managing a pizza store and had NO IDEA what to do with myself. I had 3 false starts at community college but just couldn’t muster the motivation to even complete an entire semester. The one good thing I had going for me was an awesome girlfriend. When I was 21 I finally got away from the pizza store and got a job doing my hobby: building/fixing computers. I was still fairly depressed/directionless underneath it all though and the girl ended up dumping me.
With nothing else going for me, I literally just woke up one morning with the idea in my head to leave. I called my brother out in Phoenix and asked if I could come live with him (he had been asking me to for awhile but I had been declining his offers due to the girlfriend, so I knew the answer was yes).
I called my dad at work and asked him if he wanted to drive to Arizona with me. He said “why don’t we fly?” I said “because I’m taking my stuff with me.” He said “pick me up from work tonight.”
I went in to work and was standing around talking to my boss, and he finally said “aren’t you going to clock in?” I said, “No, I’m leaving for Arizona.” Awesome guy that he was, he replied “Ok, let us know when you get back.” I spent the rest of the day packing and took off that night. Mom cried.
I thought I would just come out here and cool off/party for a few months and then go back, but it felt like home as soon as I got here so I stayed. That’ll be 8 years ago in March.
Within 2 months I had a job that paid exactly twice the hourly wage as the job I left back home, and gave me more hours. Within 6 months I met the girl I would go on to marry. We have a kid now and house and blah blah blah.
It was probably the single best decision I have ever made in my life, and I put literally zero thought into it.
Kudos on the interesting topic, by the way, Dung Beetle. I love hearing these stories.
Got on a plane and went away to college, putting most of the continent between myself and home, because in reality I wanted to travel but my parents wanted me to go to college. Came home that summer. Went back to school. Flunked out. Went back home for a couple months. Went to Europe. Went back to school, stayed over the summers.
When I graduated I had a job lined up to start in September. Mom and dad wanted me to come home for the summer. I didn’t. Funding for the job (with a non-profit) fell through; I wrangled a 6-month temp job. When it ended, mom and dad wanted me to move back home. I didn’t. The economy still sucks and I’ve realized I seriously don’t know what I want to do with myself career-wise (my degree isn’t exactly practical), but I find a job, which offers terrible pay and is mind-numbing and generally awful, but pays the bills. Mom and dad still think I should move back home, despite the fact that the last time I lived there for more than a few weeks at a time was in 2005.
So, finally, I said I’m tired of working a crappy, low-paying, entirely unsatisfying job that offers no benefits and no chance for advancement, and also tired of my parents thinking I need to be looked after (or…whatever they think), and so this fall I made the decision to join the Army, and in fact leave in a week for basic training. I might still hate the job, but it at least comes with health insurance, paid job training and and experience, and four guilt-free years of not listening to a single shred of advice that my parents try to give me.
To start off, it isn’t typical for people in my country to leave home till they get married. Just public housing alone is expensive.
I was staying with my mum and sister, and for some reasons mum decided to sold the flat to get a new one. However, she miscalculated, and there wasn’t enough for her to get a new flat.
So she rented. For some reasons, she kept moving from places to places, depleting our funds. It was also disruptive to me, who was studying in university then.
I was starting an internship in another part of town, and had some income. A friend of mine found a cheap place for me to rent (a small, dark room with a shared toilet lacking cold water) and I moved out. I was fortunate enough to be a research assistant after my internship which gave me enough to afford my own rent.
I have been staying alone ever since.