the great escape

because if the entire world stinks, it might be you who farted.

during my relationship with my ex-wife, i frequently fantasised about leaving. not her, not per se. but just, you know, leaving. packing up my bag, taking the few clothes i can fit in, maybe a few books, and buying a one-way ticket to thailand. 

i never understood the source of those feelings. like, what was i trying to escape from? was it my relationship? was it this expensive, beautiful, horrible, driven, crushing, unbelievable city? was it the pull and weight of my family? was it my job? 

then, as some of you know, two things happened. one – i was no longer in a relationship (well, duh). for the first time in my adult life, after jumping from relationship into a relationship, i was alone. two – i went to spain for a week during new year’s, to get that feeling of (albeit, temporary) sunny escape i longed for. 

on day 3 in spain, after the celebrations subsided and the city i’ve never been to became less foreign with its streets, balconies, hipster cafes, and palm trees, i had the most miraculous realisation. 

i STILL wanted to escape. 

from what?! i wanted to cry out loud. if there was a definition of the word FREE, this was IT. 

i was young, broke, divorced, on holiday, in a place where nobody knew me, in a country whose language i studied for three years at school but still couldn’t say a word of, and it was new year’s – the start of something new. 

and yet, and yet. the feeling was all too familiar. 

instantly, my head filled with images like a montage reel of the last 25 years: me dropping out of schools because things got too tricky; me ghosting friends and girlfriends when i was too uncomfortable; me quitting acting lessons (twice) before the last class for no apparent reason; me quitting jobs to avoid voicing my concerns and confronting the boss.  

so far, whenever things got too uncomfortable, too serious, too real, i wanted to pull the pin. and i did. in every scenario, i convinced myself that it wasn’t me. it was THEM; they were the problem, i was merely doing the right thing by telling them SCREW YOU and moving to the other side of the country and reinventing myself. 

ah, the thrill of a fresh start! 

spain. it’s hard to believe, but the sun exists. and somewhere on the planet people are wearing t-shirts and shorts right now and don’t see their breath in white clouds of vapour every time they walk outside.

of course, if you feel like the entire world stinks, it might be you who farted. 

in all those scenarios, the common denominator was me. and now, when i had nowhere else to go, there was no option but to face those demons head-on. 

for as long as i could remember, i was terrified of people realising i wasn’t this perfect-great-immaculate version of myself. in my marriage, i concocted this ideal portrait of myself and put it out there, like a cardboard cut-out. all the “bad stuff” – things i didn’t want people to associate with me – i buried in a trunk with a key and threw the key in the thames. but the problem is that if you don’t live out your entire, true self – you won’t live out your entire, true life. sure, we all want to be better. but you also don’t choose who you are. you can’t choose your thoughts, wants, desires, pet peeves, or values. 

you can hide from yourself. but soon enough, the pressure of not being entirely who you are will build up. it will find its way through the cracks in the tarmac, and if left unchecked, it will burst like a dam, drowning you and everyone in proximity. 

the truth is that once you get to know someone well, they will turn out to be flawed. and once they get to know you, they will realise you’re flawed too. and that’s okay. that’s called having a relationship. just like readers are mostly entertained and relate to stories about a train wreck, the people who care about you want to see you entirely for who you are, warts and all. it’s impossible to relate to someone who is perfect. because nobody is, and everyone knows that, and thus, you’re deceiving no one. 

as we grow older, our lives get more difficult. not necessarily because the day-to-day gets difficult, although that’s part of it, paying the bills and being responsible sucks. but more because the comforting lies of childhood strip away.

bit by bit, we see ourselves for who we really are – vs. who our parents wanted us to be. 

but more importantly, we see life for what it really is.

we see that it’s impossible to avoid negative emotions. that death, grief, loss, pain, uncertainty, fear, and feeling lost – is, too, part of life and we’ll have to meet and come to terms with these emotions.

that charlotte deer lady from bojack horseman (also my mother) was right: it’s not WHERE you are, it’s WHO you are. it’s not about moving to thailand or california or getting a new job or a new girlfriend. there is, in some sense, no escape from yourself, which is both a bad thing and a good thing. 

it’s a bad thing because, like it or not, you’re stuck with you. if you can’t be happy or satisfied with where you are now, you won’t be satisfied in those other, seemingly better places. 

but it’s a good thing because it means you’re entirely in charge.

you don’t need to go to the other side of the planet to change your life. instead, you must learn to accept the cards you’ve been dealt and try to make the most of the hand you’re playing right now. 

it’s easier said than done.

but there is, if you think about it, no other option. 

– s

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