extra running

I rarely die. And by rarely I think I mean never. Well, never...yet. Because of my lack of dying I tend to not always think things through, and that works for me, at least it has thus far since, y'know...I'm not dead. I figure things will work out.
I remember once when I was about 5 that I was going to run away. I decided to live like the boxcar children at least monthly, but this time I meant it! I was mad about something, not sure what, but I'm sure it was completely rational like my brother took my spot on the couch or something equally traumatizing. I remember that it was Sunday night. I remember it was raining outside (of course, it's Seattle). And I remember that I was leaving for good this time and my family would be so sorry.
I grabbed my blankie (not a blanket, but blankie, my baby blanket that was faded and the batting had separated from too much love) and my pack of extra gum. Bubble gum flavor. I had what I needed. Everything else would work itself out.
I slipped quietly our our front door unnoticed in the dead of night (probably 8:30pm). I took refuge under our front porch steps (it was raining!). I remember sitting on a rock with blankie around me thinking that my family sure must miss me. I ate a piece of gum. I realized I had better ration it, after all, it was only a five pack. That's when my mind started processing and I realized that I probably should have planned better.

I thought I could go back inside and grab what I needed, but I knew my mom would be so grateful to see me that I would not be able to escape her relieved grasp to run away again. Nope, I would have to live with the consequences.
I began thinking that maybe I should not have left so sneakily...what if they didn't even know that I was gone? I told myself that that was proof that I had made the right choice, they didn't even love me. I began going through options. I could go to Gloria's, but I didn't really like here house (even though I think she gave me my ever-so-important Extra bubblegum). I could go to Kjel's, but her dad scared the living tar out of me (not that I have living tar in me to be scared out). I thought of other neighbors, and each one got vetoed...their house smelled weird, they'd call my mom, they had a dog, I'd have to walk past a dog to get to their house...all kinds of obstacles. I don't remember what finally made me go in to my house that night. Did I realize that I actually had it pretty good? Probably not. Was I cold and out of gum (I was never very good at rationing). Probably. Did anyone notice that I was gone? Nope. Was I so grateful to be home that I didn't even care that I wasn't missed? Yes.
I've always been a runner. Not much has changed. Most people have "fight or flight" responses...I only got the flight response. Why face life's problems when you can run from them? And I'm a decently fast runner. When I feel stressed and boxed in I look for an escape and I take it, only thinking things through afterwards. I'm working on this, and I'm getting better cause fleeing isn't as easy to fix as I get older. And ultimately the good things in life are worth fighting for, even if they're hard and I want to run from the challenge. When I find what I truly want then I'll stop running altogether and fight for it, but until then I'll probably take off running occasionally.

No comments:

Post a Comment