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wyld_dandelyonSo, I wrote this post a while ago, and thought I posted it. But looking at my journal, it's not there, so I'm posting it who-knows-how-many days late.
Question 8: When you want to escape from everyone, where do you go, and how does that help?
I don't know if I'll answer many of the Three Weeks for Dreamwidth questions, and if I do they may be in a pretty random order, but this one caught my attention:
Question 8: When you want to escape from everyone, where do you go, and how does that help?
Like so many things in my life, that answer changes from time to time. A lot of the time, though, it has been to fiction, either reading or writing it, or music.
But I do remember one time when my kid was young (middle-school-ish) I just lost all patience and headed out without telling anyone where I was going. As a single Mom, I had responsibilities, so I stopped when I got as far as the thrift store and went in to look at stuff. I don't remember if I found anything to actually buy, but it was peaceful, and I needed that. Eventually my phone rang. It was my daughter, wanting to know where I was. "I ran away," I told her. She told me she didn't believe me--because I'd left my clothes behind. Standing there amid aisles and aisles of used clothing, I thought it was better proof that I planned to return that I'd left my guitar and autoharps behind.
Did it help? Well, it gave me some space and some quiet time, at least. And while it didn't change any of the things that were frustrating and annoying me, at least when I did return, I was better able to try to find useful responses and less likely to yell about stuff.
But I do remember one time when my kid was young (middle-school-ish) I just lost all patience and headed out without telling anyone where I was going. As a single Mom, I had responsibilities, so I stopped when I got as far as the thrift store and went in to look at stuff. I don't remember if I found anything to actually buy, but it was peaceful, and I needed that. Eventually my phone rang. It was my daughter, wanting to know where I was. "I ran away," I told her. She told me she didn't believe me--because I'd left my clothes behind. Standing there amid aisles and aisles of used clothing, I thought it was better proof that I planned to return that I'd left my guitar and autoharps behind.
Did it help? Well, it gave me some space and some quiet time, at least. And while it didn't change any of the things that were frustrating and annoying me, at least when I did return, I was better able to try to find useful responses and less likely to yell about stuff.
