I Ran Away From My Problems and I'd Do It Again in a Heartbeat

All my life, I was taught to never run away from my problems — I was taught to face them head on and not hide from them. I was taught that the faster and harder I ran from my problems, the faster they would catch up with me — and they would be so much worse when they did. And sometimes that may be true – I’ve seen firsthand how avoidance and running get me further back than if I’d just dealt with something head on. But sometimes, running away is exactly what you need, and it’s a good, healthy thing. 

When I say running away, I don’t mean abandoning all your responsibilities and obligations. I mean setting boundaries and taking some time, space, and distance so that your problems become a bit more manageable. Running so that you can fulfill those responsibilities and obligations in a safe and healthy way.

About a month ago, my life got to be too much to handle, and I ran away to the other side of the country to try and put some distance between me and my life. After a particularly bad breakdown, feeling completely trapped by the chaos in my life, I booked a one way plane ticket across the country and started crashing at my sister’s house. I didn’t have a plan on how or when I would return. I just got on a plane as fast as I could, and trusted I would figure it out. I couldn’t leave behind all my problems, of course, but the change of pace and support felt good.

Before running away, I was at a point in my life where I felt like everything was going wrong. I was completely stressed out at work, which was only exacerbated by the significant health challenges I was facing. Not only was my health suffering, but I was struggling to get the medical support I needed to get better, and had to deal with subpar medical treatment. Between a heavy workload, seemingly endless phone calls to the doctor and pharmacy to get things sorted, and emergency therapy sessions to try to hold on, I was completely overwhelmed and alone. I didn’t feel like I was getting the support I needed to get my health in check.

On top of that, I was dealing with the breakdown of a couple of significant relationships in my life – key relationships that until then I had relied on heavily for support. The isolation associated with the pain of feeling those relationships slip away became unbearable. The combination of all of these factors that would have been difficult enough to navigate on their own left me with one option: run. Run as fast and as far as I can to try and hold on.

I like to think as much as I was running away from my problems, I was also running towards the solution. I was running to a place that felt safe. I was running towards help. I was running towards connection when I felt like that was a huge missing piece. I was running towards what I needed to make it through the day.

Running didn’t mean some of the problems didn’t follow me — I couldn’t run away from my health problems, and I couldn’t run away from my work stress. Running away didn’t repair the broken relationships I left behind. But, it gave me that space to have things slow down just a tad bit so that it all seemed more bearable. Running away to a place where I am loved and supported made it easier to adjust to my medical needs, and it eased the pain of the isolation.

And while I’m not looking forward to having to trudge back to the life I left behind, I feel far more equipped to deal with what I need to than if I’d never run at all.

Running away feels good — a little too good sometimes, and I worry that running away is just a maladaptive trauma response: flight. I’m worried that by feeling that intense need to run away, I’m succumbing to what my trauma tells me to do, rather than being able to cope through. I’m worried my trauma is calling the shots and telling me misguided coping mechanisms are a good idea. I worry that sometimes running away isn’t the right choice, and that running away can sometimes have a negative impact on the lives of the people around me, who don’t understand why I needed to do what I did.

I also know that this was exactly what I needed right now, and without it, my health wouldn’t be improving as much as it has and my capacity to manage work stress wouldn’t be as good.

The key here is that I’m running away in order to run back and be better than before. I know I can’t run forever, and I can’t avoid my life just because it gets hard. I have to go back, and work through the messes I left behind. While that scares me and I don’t want to because this break has been so nice, I know it’s necessary.

I’m proud of myself for not following what I “should” do and running away when I needed to. I’m proud that I didn’t listen to the voices in my head that called me cowardly for running and hiding. I’m proud that I trusted my gut enough to know I needed to get out fast, and hopped on that next flight as fast as I could. I’m proud of myself for recognizing that I was getting to a breaking point and taking steps to get out before things got worse. And I know I’ll be even prouder when I go back. Because I can face hard things — I just get to decide how and when I face them in a way that feels healthy and safe for me, regardless of what society says I have to do.

We need to normalize leaving situations that make us miserable, even if they’re not the worst in the world and even if they’re not dangerous or abusive. We don’t need to justify why we need to run off and step back sometimes to anyone but ourselves. We owe ourselves the choice to leave and come back, or leave and never come back if it’s what we feel is truly right for us. 

So if you need to run, grab your shoes and go. Assert your boundaries. Take that space and distance and time. Run so that you can be everything you want to be and more. Run to those who show up when you’re at your messiest. Run to where you are held. Run to where you are loved. Run to yourself.