how to stop running away

It’s normal to want to escape your life sometimes. I used to want to escape my life all the time, which wasn’t so normal. There are still days and moments when I want to escape. When I feel this way, I remind myself that there’s a difference between running away from something, and running toward something.

Running away for me looked like escapism through books, tv, daydreaming, a Disneyland Magic Key pass, overeating (carbs and sugar both had a claim on me), and travel. These are still some of my favorite pastimes and there’s nothing wrong with a healthy dose of escapism. My problem at the time with running away was that I was relying on these forms of escapism to feel perpetually fulfilled, but eventually, I was forced to return to a reality that I was dreading, one that didn’t bring me joy or fulfillment. 

When you run away, you can only run so far before your legs start to wobble and your body forces you to slow down, and whatever you were running from starts to catch up with you.

In time, I had to come to a complete stop and confront what I was running from.

Someone once said to me, “Do you want to live in this world or do you want to be a part of it?”

Back then, I just wanted to live. I was exhausted. I was recovering from being in academic survival mode for pretty much my entire life. I didn’t want to be a part of anything. I just wanted to be. So I let myself be, and rest, and recover.

Over time, I noticed that I had gradually and subtly shifted from rest to running away. I was running away at every chance. My day-to-day mundane reality felt draining, unfulfilling, and frankly unbearable. I felt like my life didn’t have a sense of meaning, and I was trying to find that meaning through escapism.

The escapism was actually a form of avoidance. I was avoiding confronting my life, myself, and the deeper parts of me that were struggling to search for meaning and purpose. At long last, my legs gave out. I couldn’t run away anymore. Even when I tried, it didn’t feel as rewarding or as stimulating. There was too much of a build up, and I was forced to face it.

It was through facing this part of myself and embarking on this journey for meaning that I learned one of the most important lessons: the only way to stop running away from something is to start running toward something instead.

I started running toward my creativity, my writing, and the sense of purpose I derived from it. 

But it’s not always so simple or easy. Even when you’re running toward something, sometimes it feels like you’re running in a storm, with wind and rain tossing you around like scattered leaves and soaking you to the bone. That’s how I feel right now while writing this blog post. There’s also literally a storm raging outside, mirroring the turmoil of my inner world.

With that being said, after my long spell of despondence and avoidance, I’d much rather be running toward something in a raging storm than running away on a sunny, cloudless day that’s really just a mirage.

So what are you running away from? What would happen if you decided to stop running and stand still for a moment? Which parts of yourself would you come face-to-face with?

And most frightening of all, but also most liberating of all, what can you start running toward?

Which parts of yourself are calling out to you? Your search for purpose and meaning? Your wounds? Intimacy and vulnerability? Your creative callings and creative expression? Your inner creator seeking a voice? The power of the creative feminine? (Which you can read more about here). Your faith and relationship with God, calling you to something greater? Your sensual nature tugging on your sleeve and asking you to slow down?

Whatever it is, I trust you’ll find the answer. Whatever it is, the first step is to stop running and simply be still. It’s often in stillness and silence that we hear and listen, that we begin to understand. That’s when you can start running again, only this time, in an entirely different direction, and with wide open arms. (And make sure to take an umbrella with you, for the stormy days ahead).