My best friend just moved to England this summer and I have a few friends living on the east coast. This seemed like the perfect excuse to escape my life of monotony for a while. I was running away from my boredom, my depression, my grief and the stagnancy of my life in general.
Two weeks away in London, Boston, New Haven and New York sounded like the perfect two weeks where nothing could go wrong. I was honestly afraid that once I came back home I would feel even worse by being reminded how my life at home was no where near as exciting.
So what actually happened?
I flew back to California happy to be home and not just because a beautiful, sunny 80 degree day welcomed me back.
I expected my trip to be perfect, but it wasn’t. There were several hiccups throughout my trip. They were both minor inconveniences and emotional upheavals. I realized that no matter where you are, life isn’t going to be perfect. Problems will follow everywhere and everyone. And depression certainly didn’t decide to take a two week vacation while I travelled. None of this should have been a surprise to me, but it was. I was afraid being in beautiful, bustling cities would fill me with a new sorrow. I was nervous at the idea of returning to my quiet suburban city feeling more stuck than ever. Luckily that wasn’t the case. There’s no place like home after all.
What’s better, I was relieved to discover this because it meant I didn’t have to be envious of my friends who have moved away. They’re all doing amazing things right now. And rather than being envious or jealous, it inspired me to get back on track with myself, my healing and my progress. I’ve returned with an appreciation for my life and more of a drive to grab ahold of the things I want most for myself.
The idea of running away can have a negative connotation attached to it sometimes. However, there are moments when running away for a while might be just the thing that’s needed. It can light a spark in you, just as it did for me.