Running Away

The first time I ran away from home I was 13 years old. I remember all of it far more distinctly than anything else that happened to me when I was 13 because the age lacked all the depression and anger of being 12 but didn't have the fun and respect associated with being 14.

I was on vacation in Cape Cod with my mother, brother, and our neighbors who had a son my age who was my best friend when we were about five. I had been swimming in the nearby lake when I decided to go back to the house. I think it was because I was either being made fun of by my brother, neighbor, and his father or because they were ignoring me and I would rather be alone if I'm going to be ignored. Back at the house my mother and neighbor's mother were sitting on the deck chatting. I had come in and told my mom why I left which instigated a fight. I don't specifically remember what the fight was about but I know that it had something to do with my mom making a statement about my personality that I believed to be false and her ignoring me when I tried to refute it. This is something I still get into fights with my mom about and I'm 23 years old.

Eventually I got so sick of her refusing to listen to me that I shouted out, "I'm leaving and I'm not going to the pond!" I waited a moment to see if this would cause a reaction and when it didn't, I made good on my promise and walked out. I followed the street past the pond, running past it quickly to avoid being seen by anyone, and then just kept on walking. I passed recently built mansion-like houses that made our family house built by my grandfather and his sons look like a hovel. I passed a surly teenager going home and a couple with a dog that I stopped to pet. I walked until the street wasn't paved anymore and I was on a dirt path. And I should note that at the time I was in my bathing suit, no shoes, and didn't have my contacts in so the world was blurry and I looked like a mess.

I walked until the path ended, the endpoint being another lake that I waded into out of curiosity and by this point I decided that I was tired and my anger had mostly dissipated. I figured the long walk back would resolve whatever remained. It was only when I got back that I realized three things:

1.) I had managed to walk into the next town. Cape Cod does have fairly small towns but it was still quite an accomplishment.

2.) I had been gone over four hours.

3.) My mother hadn't heard me correctly and had called the police.

I returned just as the police car was pulling into the driveway and I was treated to a shouting fit by my mother who demanded that I put some clothes on and get in her car. I was confused since in my mind I had told her exactly what I was doing and had given her the chance to stop me. Then I hyperventilated thinking that she was going to drive me all the way home as punishment.

Instead she drove me to a cafe, got me a frozen hot chocolate, and cried at the table about how she thought I had been killed while telling me about the murder of a lifeguard not much older than me in Truro a few years back. Then she took me to an art show.

Unrelated but my mother has weird ways of coping when I do something she thinks in wrong. One time when my best friend and I had kept her up all night by talking in the living room until dawn, she found us together in the morning, freaked out thinking we were having sex and I was apparently going to get pregnant and drop out of school (silly things both because I have had a sufficient sex education, I had just graduated from school so dropping out wasn't really an option, and he and I weren't having sex anyway), and reacted to all of this by shouting at me and then taking us to breakfast. A few months later, she decided that she liked him so much, I should marry him even though, as I said, we were not together.

The point is, this running away from home was the first time I got a taste of wanderlust and ever since then I feel like I have been trying to escape further and further. When I was younger I did similar things but they were not as drastic: exploring the woods, walking to a friend's house without telling my mom, etc. But this was the first time I got really far and felt like I had succeeded at traveling.

By definition, I was kind of a good kid. I didn't do drugs or drink before college or get very drunk even now. I kept any aspects of a love life secret and didn't let it control my life. I always did my homework without being asked ever since I started school. I made friends who were sometimes not the best people but who were always polite to my mother in a genuine way. But here's the thing: I was so fiercely independent a lot of the time that I didn't let any boundaries hold me down. I always did whatever I felt like doing. I always felt safe doing things on my own when my mother thought I needed to be protected. And this has been a constant frustration for her as recently as last summer.

After my running away stint, I started walking every time I was upset. I would leave the house, usually not telling anyone, and would just walk until I felt better. I would try to find new things every time I walked.

As I've gotten older and my freedoms expanded, I have been searching for more and more places to run away to. First my friends started driving and we would start traveling around the state. Then I went to college almost two hours away and learned how to use public transportation to get me where ever I could afford to go. If I wanted to run away to New York, I could and I did. If I wanted to run away to Syracuse, I would. As long as I had the money to go and a couch to sleep on, I would run every chance I got.

Now I'm out of college and have a steady job that enables me to run even more often. I find very little value in material purchases anymore, choosing to pay for experiences. As long as I have a car to take me to work and travel, a computer to entertain, and money to pay for gas, food, car insurance, and government loan payments, I have all I need. I hardly ever buy new clothes and I rarely buy movies, music or books since I just borrow from friends and abuse my library card. I need that extra money normal people use to buy new TVs on running away.

Last summer, I broke another boundary by running away to London. The previous Christmas the only thing on my wishlist was a passport and receiving that little book was like being gifted with the world.

This year I have run away to Boston and New York on numerous occasions (they are frequent places for me as I know people in both cities and I used to live in Boston myself) and will be running again to England, road tripping from London to Bath, Bristol, and Exeter (and possibly more) and then running off to Dublin. I'm in the process of planning another run to Washington DC and still need to fit a run to Montreal into my schedule at some point since I have wanted to do it for years.

Other people have expressed a lot of jealousy at my running, wishing they could run away as much as I do and to the places I do but the more I think about it, the more afraid I get that one day I will have nowhere to run to. I have a lot of places I can visit and couches I can sleep on but eventually I will not have enough money to get away as much as I need to. Eventually the places I want will be unfeasible and the thought of being stuck in suburbia with too many things boxing me in scares me.

You may think, if that kind of life scares you, why don't you avoid it? The fact is, while I may manage to escape a lot I have college loans to pay, I work at a job where I don't make much and there is very little room for promotion, and I still live at home. Every day I get up and go to my suburban job and think, what if I never find a way out and I am only able to remain sane because of my running? That's all that supporting me now. What about in five years when my paycheck can't support the distance I need to travel to feel okay again?

And what if I do get out? What if I manage to move to Boston or some other city that feels more free than here and then I lose a place to run because it has become my new prison?

Will I ever be happy in one place again?