Running Away

At times I get this urge to run. I want to jump in my car and drive away as fast and as far as I can get. Memories of high school, of getting in my little car and just driving away from the city, up to the lakes or down towards [the capitol], sometimes with my best friend, sometimes just me... the memories flood my mind like the overpowering scent of a familiar perfume. Often in my life I have set up situations so I could feel that freedom. We would plan a vacation in great detail, covering every base and all the way up until time to leave, everything would be spelled out and prepared. EXCEPT - I would refuse to pack my suitcase. We'd get everyone off to wherever they were going, THEN I'd "throw" my clothes and things into a bag, "jump" into the car and "take off" abruptly. (Nevermind the fact that I had planned out the outfits and made sure everything was washed, dried, folded and ready...) It gave me the incredible feeling of taking off on a spontaneous trip and throwing responsibility to the wind. When I get that kind of urge to run, this kind of vacation is both responsible and effective.

I have the urge to run.

But it's not the kind of running that a spontaneous trip in the car is going to help. I want to disappear. I want to hide. I'm not trying to run from responsibility or a feeling of being trapped. I'm not even positive what feelings I am running from. Reality just feels like too much to look in the eyes. There's this weight on my chest, over my heart. It's oppressive and fatiguing. It doesn't exactly hurt, not like it has in the past. It's just exhausting. I feel like I'm laying on a huge feather mattress with this huge weight on me and I'm sinking further and further into it. It's like suffocating slowly. And now I want to sink all the way into the mattress and fall through the other side.

Books, movies, tv, sleep... I've been using all of those to escape. Sleep is my number one choice. Drifting away, passing through that land where everything makes sense, even the things that make no sense, then hiding in a land where anything at all is possible and if you don't like what is happening, there is always the reassurance that every dream will end. I sleep every opportunity I get, which, admittedly, isn't as much as I would like.

Second to sleeping is disappearing into the world of fiction. My first choice is still, predictably, Supernatural. I am still completely obsessed with Dean and his infinite number of layers, including those of his actor, Jensen Ackles. I am fascinated by the contrast between what he says and what he feels and the absolute distinction between Dean and Jensen. Although I am humiliated to admit it, I even stooped so low as to read some fanfic this weekend. (It was surprisingly good. I never thought I'd say it, but it was worth the time it took to read it.) I hear quotes from the show in every conversation. ( "Bitch." "Jerk." It cracks me up every time I think of it!) I would give anything to disappear into that world. As totally fucked up as that world is --- it makes sense.

When not hiding in someone else's fictional world, I've been creating my own. I've actually been pretty prolific, for me that is. I am halfway through my 4th story in one month. Granted, they sucked, every one of them. But they've been completed. WEIRD! But I think I will refrain from looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

So where is all of this getting me? I don't know. I haven't run in the sense of they way I have in the past, most notably last summer. And, compared to the past several years at this time, I'm actually doing a lot better. But I'm not facing the issue either. The shrink said flat out that if I start ducking and dodging and pushing things away, that he is afraid I will get into a very place and that he doesn't know what would happen, and that he's worried. It made an impression. And, dammit, I'm trying!

I would just much rather be running...