Running Away

Recently I wrote about the feelings that would lead me to consider suicide. I explained, however, that suicide isn't really my first choice for getting away from the pain I experience. Truthfully, I wish I could run away from everything and live in a place where no one knew me or had any expectations for me.

Based on a journal entry from October of 2004, it seems I've had similar feelings for a long time:

I feel so much pain right now, even though I shouldn’t.

I can’t do it.  I wish I wasn’t this way, but it’s horrible being reminded every day how everyone is better than I am.

It just all seems so pointless.  I obviously don’t matter to anyone.  I’m not good at anything, so what can I contribute to the world?

I don’t know what to do.  I can’t run, because I’ve been doing that too long.  But it’s what I really want to do.  I want to be away from all the people I know: the ones who scare me, the ones who ignore me, the ones who hurt me, even the ones who love me, if that category really exists.  But I don’t think I can start over.  It will always be the same thing.  What am I going to do?

I wonder what I would have thought if someone had told me how accurate these words would still be fourteen years later. It will always be the same thing.

Clearly part of my problem is my sense that I've been a disappointment, both to myself and others. If I moved to a new place, I could take on some mindless job and learn to be comfortable with mediocrity. I couldn't disappoint anyone because they wouldn't know anything about my past or the expectations people had for me.

I wouldn't bother trying to make friends in this hypothetical new city. I'd fill my time with books, visiting museums, and other hobbies I could have time to explore if I was solely responsible for myself. I wouldn't have to wonder why people didn't contact me or accept my invitations to hang out because I would intentionally isolate myself. The lyrics to Simon and Garfunkel's "I Am A Rock" seem pretty appropriate here.

I would no longer get in the way of the ones I left behind. Someone could take over my classroom and be a better teacher. My husband could remarry and find a partner who truly contributes to the family rather than taking up space. I don't think anyone else would miss me.

"Hold up," you may be thinking. "You mentioned your family. What about your kids?" Indeed, they are the most painful piece of this puzzle. I love them and would not want to be separated from them. It would not be fair to take them from their father, however. And if I believe that someone could replace me in almost every aspect of my life, there's probably a better mother out there, as well.

Such an existence would still be painful, but my anguish would be self-contained. It wouldn't leak out and affect everyone around me. I could also diminish some of the sources of pain by limiting my engagement with the outside world.

It sounds selfish and cowardly, I know. But running away is what I most wish I could do.