I didn’t always think of myself as one who runs away. I’m a determined person, and I’ve been able to achieve many of the goals I set for myself. Recently, though, as I’ve reflected on my life, I see things a little differently. I set goals, achieve them, and then run when things get tough. I get to a good place, find people who love me, and then I sometimes want to run and flee from it all. I feel safe with someone, and then I smash the feeling to bits by oversharing and then withdrawing for a while.
I run. Safety is foreign, and uncomfortable. I also run from joy; Who am I to have it? Growing up with a Cluster B personality-disordered mom, things were never emotionally safe and joy was only acceptable if and when my mother was also feeling happy. Misery loves company. Because I didn’t want to overshadow my mom, I often embellished my misery. I neglected seeing the bright side and, consequently, I lowered my resilience and my ability to focus on positive emotions.
There were many times in my life when I couldn’t run. I was by my mother’s side as we moved cross-country with her boyfriend when I was ten, leaving my father & extended family behind. I moved to a few places with my mom and her next boyfriend, who quickly became my abusive stepfather. I couldn’t run from my mother’s control over my decisions throughout my childhood.
At seventeen, I ran towards my dreams and my goal of freedom. A prestigious ballet school had offered me a scholarship plus a stipend, and I rented a studio apartment which I shared with another student. It was glorious… I was even offered an apprenticeship with the professional company. It was truly a dream come true until I shattered my foot. After that, I was full of shame and embarrassment. I didn’t need to be — the school administrator even told me so: “It happens to everyone,” he’d said with understanding— but I felt defective. I stopped attending class because I couldn’t dance, and my stipend was removed without warning. Broke, embarrassed and feeling physically broken, I left. I ran. It never occurred to me to stay or ask for help or advice. Years later, people asked me why I disappeared.
When things got hard, I didn’t run towards people who were healthy & safe. I’m not sure I really had any who were available and present in my life at the time. I ran towards what I knew. I called my mom, with whom I was still very enmeshed, who told me I should move back home. She convinced me that the company surgeon was neglecting me and that I should see a surgeon in her city. Even when the company surgeon called and advised against the proposed surgery, she was adamant that I go through with it. I didn’t run. The surgery didn’t go well. Ashamed and embarrassed even further, I recovered slowly and eventually I ran back towards what had saved me before: ballet.
Against many odds, three years and two surgeries later, I returned to live out my dream, only it was much harder than before. I soon set off to move across the country and my mother was so despondent & angry when I drove away that I spent the entire cross-country drive feeling guilty for taking the opportunity I had been given. When I arrived at my new job, I was much less self-assured than I could have been. I was filled with guilt and anxiety and I hadn’t had years in a studio apartment alone – free of my mother- to prepare myself emotionally for the pressure I’d experience. Right away I met another new dancer with BPD (what are the odds?!) who leeched onto me a little, asking if she could move in with me when she was kicked out of another living situation. I had not yet learned healthy boundaries or how to recognize safe people. She was not a positive influence on my experience although for a while I thought she was a friend. The tough thing about personality-disordered relationships is that they can be disarming… things get so twisted and confused it’s hard to know what is going on. Things got tougher when a minor injury set me back a little and I decided to run away…again. I wrote a letter and left behind a beautiful opportunity. I moved again, this time towards a narcissistic dancer who lured me into believing the grass could be greener at the lower-level company where he worked. I was easy to fool. I ran away from a director who liked me towards one who was antisocial and abusive.
Eager yet ungrounded, I stayed in the negative environment for the rest of my short career. Negativity was familiar. When the dynamics became too toxic for me to tolerate, I exited. I was never fired, and I think my boss might have wanted me to stay in the end… but I decided to go, giving only a tiny portion of the reason why. I guess I thought I might return one day.
Looking back on these decisions now, I feel so sad. I forgot what I loved and let insecurities, abuse, and my own negativity cause me to run away in shame. I was raised to believe that I should constantly feel guilty, that I was not okay, that every move I made was the wrong one, that I would never be good enough as I was. I wish I had believed otherwise.
Can you relate? Do you look back and regret the ways you self-sabotaged by running away in shame when you didn’t need to? Did you ever lower yourself for no reason? Did you leave those who cared about you to move towards people who only wanted to use you?
These days, I am trying to run towards what is good and avoid the negative things that want to draw me in. I’ve learned that it is easier to face my shame head-on than cover it up and hide it away. There are good things to run towards … goals & dreams & loving people who bring out the best in me. My mother wants me to always run towards her – to make her my top priority and her grievances my biggest problem. It is so easy and natural for me to do this. I was raised to do this. But, for my own sanity, I must choose to stop walking on eggshells & run instead towards love.