Running Without Moving Forward
Do you ever just want to leave? Just walk out the door and never turn around? Or maybe pack a small suitcase and buy a one way plane ticket without telling a soul?
I have always been the type to run away. I don’t like confrontation. It’s absolutely terrifying. I used to cry every single time something got even remotely confrontational. One word of dissension, and I looked like a blubbery baby.
When I got that urge to run, I did. Now to be fair, I’ve never bought a plane ticket to nowhere (though I totally google plane tickets and Air BnBs all the goddamn time). But I like to compartmentalize and avoid things. It’s like when little kids put a blanket over their head and tell themselves if they can’t see the monster then the monster can’t see them. I was walking around with a blanket on my head.
I have been the queen of avoidance. My avoidance is a major component of my depression, and it typically manifests itself in avoiding things I have to do. The most commonly avoided thing for me is cleaning. When I was at my most depressed, my apartment was horrible. Like, probably should have been quarantined bad.
My therapist and I deemed it my depression nest.
When I am sad, I avoid everything around me and build walls. The walls are comforting. The mess is comforting. It’s something I grew up doing; ask my mom about my horrid childhood room.
The mess was avoidance. I’ve left bills unpaid, homework undone, and calls unanswered. I avoid everything. I run away so fast and so far without moving an inch.
But I’m trying to learn how to stop running.
I’m learning that it’s okay that I want to run. It’s okay to be scared. But what you do in that moment is what makes all the difference. Standing my ground and making myself do something productive is great, but more importantly is recognizing the avoidance and forgiving myself for not doing anything.
I have to give myself some love and have some patience. Yes, I like to avoid things. It’s a major part of my personality. And sometimes I do still run, and that’s okay. But other times I don’t. I’m learning how to stop running. The first step is realizing when I am avoiding, loving myself anyway, and learning how to stand my ground and face my fears.
So right now, my dishes aren’t done and my car is a cluster (I’m sorry Chuck…), but I’m fighting tooth and nail to face my fears of the unknown and stop running.
I’m still here.