On Running Away...

Looking back, I think that my desire to move to Seattle was more an attempt to escape pain than an attempt to cultivate a relationship.

I think, when you’re single and when you live in a place full of memories of times when you weren’t single (lonely, lost, scared, tired, bored…insert adjective here), it is sometimes harder to exist happily than it is to run away.

Street signs, restaurants, landmarks, passing vehicles, a stranger’s eyes, or songs all remind you of people who have either hurt you or gone away. People who have faded from your life like a puff of smoke. And sometimes the memories are too much. Sometimes, the hurt takes over and transforms you into this…robotic clone of the “you” you once were. And in that moment, you want to escape. Not just the hurt. But the street signs and the songs, and the strangers. You want to forget all the pain you felt, all the pain you’ve caused. Everything. You want to disappear.

I guess I thought that by moving to the other side of the country to be with someone who had never hurt me, I would finally be at peace with the people who have. I realized that, no matter how far I traveled, that stuff is still there. It’s burned into me. I’m branded.

And believe me, I still want to leave. I still want to escape. Every day. I want to drive until I can’t drive anymore. I want to drive until the memories are so far behind me that looking back, they are specks of the old me. But I know that that is unreasonable. It’s not even possible. It’s this brain that carries these aches and pains. It’s this heart that drips with sadness when I pass that sign. Or hear that song.

People have taken pieces. They have chipped away at my being and left me cold and decrepit. And longing for release. My only saving grace is the knowledge and the comfort of the people who have given and not taken. And those are the people it is hard to run from. And even they, some days, wear at me, push me, frustrate me. When I need them and calls go unreturned. When I feel that they mean more to me than I ever will to them. Days when I need them and they aren’t around.

I still might leave. The thought seems freeing. The thought of not knowing every third face I pass on the street. Not feeling so bad about people being close but not making effort to be closer. There would be no pressure. And…that seems like bliss.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "I Need a Miracle" - The Grateful Dead


wmjwatson said...

Odd... the same reasons you list for wanting to leave are the same reasons that make it hard for me to leave. I want to stay. The pain reminds me of choices made and mistakes and also the good stuff. It reminds me that have had troubles but I haven't lost yet. I haven't been beaten.
Plus... I haven't nearly dated everyone so no reason to leave the pond for different fishing. :)

The Imaginary Diva said...

You'll still feel the same way when you get to your next stop.

Time is the healer of things. Not distance.

You have to give it time.

I hope things get better.

jessica said...

How very true.

Of course, I ran 1,500 miles away when I was eighteen, only to immediately fuck up in the new place.

Now? I'm volunteering just footsteps from the trailer I lived in with my ex-husband. It's very surreal.

It's my belief though that very few things in life are undoable. If you want to come back, you can. Yes, it won't be the same place anymore but it wouldn't be even if you stayed.