I read a story about a grown woman who, 11 years ago, voluntarily got into a car with strangers and ran away- from her husband, her children, her life. She ended up in Key West and barely scraped by, until the other day when she walked into the police department to turn herself in. For what, I'm not sure- the article didn't mention she had broken any laws. But she had been declared legally dead already, the police had even suspected her husband of killing her. Her husband says he does not want to see or speak to her, the daughter says she hopes her mom rots in hell. The article opined, haven't we all wanted to run away at one time or another? I say yes, and what is so bad about that? I know fundamentally it's wrong to suddenly abandon your family and let them think you are dead, but the idea of just needing a break some days is part of us all. Even though 99% of us don't act on it in such a drastic fashion.
We need breaks from our normal routine and life occasionally. That's why we get vacation time at work, and why we live for the weekends. It's why we take cruises or fly across the ocean, or drive down to Mexico for the day. It's the reason Walt Disney built the Magic Kingdom, and why George Lucas put Star Wars on the big screen. It's why we celebrate St Paddy's Day even though we aren't Irish. Our brains, our hearts, our bodies need to get away- for a week, a day, a few hours. Even people who love each other beyond reason, can't spend 24 hours and 7 days a week with that person. I couldn't be with J that much, and I wouldn't expect him to want to be with me like that either. Even when we go on vacation together, we have pockets of alone time here and there. He wants to go to the casino and I don't want to hang over his shoulder. I want to go walk on the beach with just my thoughts and no one else to talk to.
During my first marriage I would run away, when W and I were fighting. Sometimes I would just go to my parents' house for a few days. Later on I actually got a hotel room a few times. Some days, I would just disappear for the day and come home late that night, after shopping and eating out and a great movie- by myself. W never cared. And the fact that I was doing this to prove a point to him- that I was unhappy or mad- was not lost on him. Most of the time, he wouldn't even bother to call me to find out where I was or if I was okay, and many times I would come home to find him asleep without a single concern or worry. I would be irrational- how dare he not call to check on me!- when after all I wanted to just be left alone. But, that was just my immaturity, thinking that by me coming home at midnight on a Friday it would somehow make W spontaneously change into a better husband. He didn't give a damn.
I would never do that now, simply because J and I don't have that kind of relationship- we can talk about absolutely anything, and there is nothing in my marriage that I would want to escape from anyhow. But, I do have that "running away" fantasy from time to time. I just don't know where I would go and what I would do. Everyone would know where I was at, I'd have to use my credit card. Like an episode of CSI, I could easily be tracked and caught. Hey boss, someone just used her Visa at the Target in New Orleans ten minutes ago, let's go canvas the area. Frankly, I have travelled a lot over the years, to other countries and across the US, but I have never travelled alone. I am not sure I would be able to manage very well. But travel and truly escaping are two different things. The running away fantasy of leaving everything and everyone behind, and starting a new life, is not like going to the spa for the weekend.
I am trying to view my time at home now as my escape from my old life of stress and a demanding sales team, and an unforgiving boss. That's what many of us want to run away from anyhow- our jobs. I also know that staying at home- the drudgery of housework and grocery shopping and pulling weeds- can become a thankless routine that grows into a life that many women wish they could trade. My fantasy escape was always to run away and find a colony of artists- up in the green lush mountains, or out in the vast deserts of the West- so I could make and live off my art full time. I've been given that opportunity now, but it's here, at home and in this crummy little town we live in. It's my fantasy "life" now, to make art- just not the fantasy "where" part. Right now, I've got to take that and run with it. I've been away from the job for almost two weeks now, and I've yet to break out a single paintbrush or brick of clay. What's up with that? J comes home every day to ask me, did you make any pottery today? I rattle off the list of chores and errands that I did accomplish, but have to admit that I did not work on anything remotely artistic. Sigh. Escaping doesn't have to mean needing to drive a few thousand miles away- right now I can't even get myself to escape upstairs to make a sketch. It's twenty steps away. Why do I think I would do better living remotely up in the hill country?
Like the lady in the article, Key West would be a dream destination, it's certainly a tropical enclave of funky artists. But not alone. J and I got married on the beach in Key West, and we plan to go back shortly for our ten year anniversary. If I had to run away to Key West, it would only be with him. And yes, we'd have to eventually come back home.
MISS GEE
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