My daughter, Elizabeth, and me on our boat, before we left on sabbatical.
In conversations for the past three days, the phrase, “run away” has predominated my vocabulary with interesting results. I’ve done more than just use the phrase in passing; I’ve suggested it to people as an outright solution for any woe. If the person was having a rough day at work, Tropical Storm Ida had made a mess of a travel week or the kids were wonkers, I’d listen patiently and then say, “So, have you considered running away?”
Here are some of the phrases I used with different people:
Let’s you and me run away.
Why don’t you just run away?
Is running away an option?
YOU SHOULD RUN AWAY.
Have you ever thought about running away?
I left a Saturday morning voice message that went like this: “Hey Theresa. I’ve been thinking about running away and wanted to know if you’d like to go. You know, just take off as in the next 12 hours and go. Patagonia maybe? Croatia? Hell, let’s just go sit at the bottom of the Grand Canyon for a while. We’ll come back, of course. We’ll figure that out.”
Theresa replied that she’d need more specifics as to time and place. Obviously, she wanted to put it into her calendar. I told her she didn’t get it.
If you are going to run away, you have to do it fast. Because if you start thinking about it a thick layer of guilt, logic or reasonableness coats your brain and paralyzes you. Try applying “sound thinking” to your desire to “run away” and the resulting inner turmoil is way worse than frequent heart burn. You’ll get feverish, fly into a frenzy and think you’re having a breakdown.
“Oh my god, my Puritan work ethic has worms.”
“If I’m thinking about running away, I must be unhappy. Surely, in denial about god knows what. Depressed perhaps.”
“But I LOVE my work. How could I run away from it?” (Substitute the word, “my kids” for “work” for severe hyperventilating.)
All this mumbo-jumbo, just because you had an idea that you’d just like a break from the life you are living. A break – for goodness sake – is not the witness protection program.
I happen to think that the idea of running away isn’t indicative of anything terrible. Entertaining the thought of getting away doesn’t signal a love gone bad, avoidance of conflict, irresponsibility, signs of faulty parents genes or lack of commitment to a career. It’s just taking a time out from the everyday routine of your life (and work’s in there.)
How do people react when I suggest running away? Tom insisted I was “kidding, of course.” “You’re funny,” he said. After all, real people don’t do that. (Do they?)
Margie said, “Well, sure, I think about it some times, but it’s not something I can really do.” (Why not Margie-Margie? Are you bed-ridden?) And Noah, roared with glee. “It’s a great idea! I’ll have an adventure.” But then Noah worried what people might it think and whether it would forever taint his commitment level to his company. (He’s the CEO.)
I tried to think of a time I ran away and last week promptly came to mind. Sometimes, I feel squeezed in my little town on the Gulf of Mexico and my concentration just poufs out the window. So, I get in my car and head either due east or west. Never north and I can’t go south. I just drive and drive. Sometimes I stop in a little town in Alabama at the Dairy Queen, get a soft cone of cream dipped in chocolate then sit on a bench in front of the Courthouse and watch people. After two hours, I head back. All this is a bit like Running Away 101. I bet some of you do stuff like that.
The next day, I’m all better and at times, I’m elevated to being “my best.” All because I did something different for four hours.
But I did run away one time for longer than an afternoon – a big time runaway, you might say. In my mid-fifties, I went to sea for six months. Alone on a little boat with my daughter. We didn’t know much about sailing but we learned. It was scary some of the time. (Actually a lot of the time.) But that’s one of the reasons I went. Because life was good and life was boring and I needed a challenge. At times I got more than I bargained for. That time away made my life large. Still does.
But that was then and this is now. While I’m trying out this phrase on people I know in various ways, they may think I’m just messing with them. Really, I’m messing with me. Let me not fool myself. I’m thinking about running away again.
Seven paragraphs ago I said that if you were thinking about running away, you have to do it fast before you talk yourself out of it. That’s not true. You can slowly make plans to run away (and come back) and learn to understand that you hold a deck of cards of thoughts and emotions. And certain cards –specific emotions – are trump cards.
I remember being so excited about planning to sail a little boat through the water that logic was entirely over-ridden. (So what if sailing over 2000 miles would require nights at sea and I’d never done that. So what if I’d flunked navigation school. So what if my husband would have to spend Christmas alone.)
You see when passion and desire are present then guilt and reasonableness find their proper 2nd tier places.
What will I do on this next run away? I don’t know what that is yet. Where will I go? I do not know. Unlike my spur-of-the-moment suggestion to others, my running away will take some time to sort out. I have a marriage partner I love, a career I care about, a ninety-four-year old father to consider as well as a business partner who will be happy-sad. (Only the devotion to a business partner is a new consideration this time round.)
For now, I am thoughtful. Something smaller than six months perhaps. Alone. Doing something important to me for this time in my life. Whatever I find in running away will make my life more.
For all the things that are unclear, that’s the one thing I do know.
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