20 Comments | leave a comment | RSS 2.0 for this post | trackback |
Anne, you’ve led an interesting life. In a letter to my mother when I was seven, I threatened to run away because of how I was being treated by my siblings. I didn’t follow through. My mom saved the letter and gave it to me a couple of years ago. |
My brother and I ran away when our dad took our siblings to McDonalds without us. My brother left a note on his door saying that we had run away to the backyard and we wouldn’t be coming home. I was disappointed, because I wanted to run away farther than that, but I wasn’t willing to go it alone. We hunkered down for the long haul under the deck, but our resolve vanished when our mom shouted from the door that there was McDonalds on the table. |
Adam, Whose resistance wouldn’t be shattered with the siren’s call of a big mac? |
I have only ever wanted to run away from home as an adult. I didn’t. |
I think when we were little, my sister and I threatened to run away a number of times. Not together mind you. Just each of us on our own when we were frustrated that we weren’t getting our away about something. It’s one of those things a little person does – and usually you are fuming and make it about halfway down the block until you realize that it’s completely hopeless and stupid and you end up heading back home. When one of us would threaten to run away, my mother would say “oh, okay” and practically laugh at us. Since neither of us was serious about it – that was the end of that. Later on as a teenager there was a different dynamic that developed where my mother would tell me I couldn’t go somewhere and I would just get on my bicycle and go anyway. But that wasn’t running away. It was just open disobedience. Of course once she figured out I could ride my bicycle places, I got a lot less rides in the car to where I needed to go. But I didn’t really mind … |
Many, many moons ago when I was 16 or 17 I was expecting a call from my girlfriend when she returned from a two week family vacation. Come to find out GF had indeed called when I was out back doing chores but my mother (who didn’t like GF – cause she wasn’t LDS), didn’t tell me (claimed she forgot). A few days later the truth came (“Why didn’t you call me back”, GF called and said, “don’t you like me?”) out and I ran away through the fields (out in the country) to a friends place several miles away. After several hours friends parents called mine, they came to get me. I either swore at or called my Mother a non-nice name, she raised her hand to slap my face, but being the young buck with superb reflex I caught her wrist (and almost broke it from the force of our colliding arms). Shortly thereafter GF became exGF and life then moved on, I got married. ExGF became LDS and My mother berates me for not marrying exGF. Maybe that’s why I moved 1/2 a continent away. |
Never, I’ve enjoyed my life for the most part so far. |
I pretended to want to run away once, just to find out what it felt like. But I made such a dramatic, passionate, tear-filled farewell to the family cat that I had to run to my mother for a hug to stop crying. |
At about age nine, I stomped out the door never to return. The peals of laughter from my parents could be heard from the house. I returned a few minutes later. My second son stomped out of the door at about the same age as I was when I “ran away” only he was wearing a Harry Potter cape and hat carrying a wand. A neighbor later told us he nearly wreaked his car because he was startled at the spectacle of a blond “wizard” storming down the street. |
Yep. IIRC, I was in 6th grade (1964-64); we were living in La Mesa, the first city east of the San Diego city limits (about 10-12 miles from downtown San Diego. I believe my dad was overseas in Vietnam (on a Navy ship); my mom was head nurse of a rest home and worked about 50 hours/week; that particular day, she was working a 3-11:30 pm shift. I came home after school one day and had a fight with my oldest sister, Deirdre, over something (she was probably trying to get me to help straighten up the house). I threw some lunch-sized bags of Fritos in the basket of my (1-speed? 3-speed?) bike, and lit out for my grandma and grampa’s house up on San Pedro (Los Angeles, about 120 miles away). First, I rode due west, most likely on University Avenue, until I got to the Pacific Coast Highway (downtown, near the harbor); then I headed north on the PCH. By my calcuation, I was averaging about 5-10 MPH and so should make it to San Pedro sometime the next day. Somewhere around La Jolla/Del Mar, a man driving an old fashioned station wagon stopped and picked up me and my bike. We drove on north to Oceanside (about 30 miles north of San Diego), while I tried to earnestly convince him that I had my mom’s permission to ride my bike to my grandmother’s house up in San Pedro. We stopped for dinner in Oceanside, where he called the local police, who came and picked me up, putting me in an unlocked cell. (I felt betrayed.) The police called my home; my sister and her boyfriend drove up to Oceanside, picked me up, and brought me back home, all before Mom got off work. I remember Mom waking me up when she got home from work, concerned as to why I had run away. I told her that it was mostly because I was mad at Deirdre. No one made a big deal out of it, though I suspect everyone kept a close eye on me for a while. Eventually, it just got added to the long list of ‘Bruce’ stories. ..bruce.. |
I don’t remember the catalyst that forced me to run away at the tender age of eleven but I do remember my goal; I was going to live without any help from my parents- EVER! This mandate meant I couldn’t take anything with me that they had given me or helped me acquire. I only made it to the end of the street before I realized I would have to walk off completely naked to cerate such a divide between myself and the things my parents had done for me or given me. So I sulked under a large tree in the neighbor’s yard for an hour and went back home. I don’t think anyone even noticed that I’d “run away” to begin with. As an adult I’ve tried to run away several times without any success. How do you run away from yourself? |
I was in third grade or so. Ran out the door, stepped sideways, my mom ran out after me, I went back inside and went back to sleep while she looked for me. |
Jota, do you still have the letter? I’ve saved all kinds of stuff like that of my kids’–they’re treasures. Was it cool to read how your younger mind worked? I kept a daily diary for nine months in 1967 (after I was sent to live with an uncle for running away). I lost it, but I so wish I could read what my 15 year old self thought about life. Adam, pretty sure my kids would come back for McDonald’s too :) ESO, good on you. Really hard not to, huh? Not that I would know LOL. daniel, your mother is a smart woman. ed, that sounds to me like there’s a lot more to the story…sad when you have to escape your mom for real, huh? John, count your many blessings….boy, you’ve been very lucky…sort of like Marjorie Hinckley’s kids…I’ve always thought, “Gee whiz, God, why couldn’t they have had one more kid? And why couldn’t it have been me?” Ardis, that sounds like something Sarah would do. You are lucky to have had that mother to run to. JA: you made me smile :) Bruce, your story sounds more like mine. I felt very betrayed. But can you imagine a 14 year old girl in Haight-Ashbury in the late 60′s? That had to be a God thing. Because I wasn’t looking back, that’s for sure. Paroled from Primary: food for thought. Me, too. Damn, I can’t run fast enough to get away from me. :) I forgot to put that I ran away last year. LOL stephen, you made me laugh. That was so mean. Did she beat you up? Smart kid, though. I liked my sisters story about not having any water or fire. Macaroni and a pan. :) |
Yes, Anne, I still have the letter. It’s pretty funny. |
I don’t remember the catalyst that forced me to run away at the tender age of eleven but I do remember my goal; I was going to live without any help from my parents- EVER! I made that determination at age 25. I’ve pretty much succeeded, except for a few instances. |
I must admit, though, that there are days when I fantasize about running away from home, even as a late-30-something. I have a resignation letter for my job on my thumb drive (I pull it our and revise it often — the word “resignation” is such a blissful one, especially when coupled with the word “immediate”). My kids and kids are usually the reason I don’t leave. And the mortgage. But at a larger macro level — I often wonder what will happen if we moved out of the ward (we’re about 2 years away from moving, and we’re probably going to stay within the ward, just to the other side of the big road in between us and the high school, but we could potentially move out of the ward and school district). I harbor fantasies sometimes of just leaving. Not saying goodbye to the ward, just arranging for our records to be requested by the new ward. Just ‘running away’ from the ward if you will. But then I think of some of the people I’d miss. Being in the same house for over 10 years will do that to you. |
In 16, make that “My wife and kids” |
On the back of my brother’s tricycle. I was 2, he was 3. |
What I think about leaving this home and neighborhood where I’ve lived for 30 years is “better the devil you know.”. But, oh a small new house in a quiet neighborhood with sidewalks sounds so appealing. One thing I loved when I was gone for 6 months was the anonymity. |
Annegb, I saw your remarks to me on the other thread. Thank you! It is interesting to me that the most effort that I made in running away was to maybe stuff a pillow with clothes but never actually leave the house. That was actually when I was young and I think home life was pretty idyllic then. When home life was tramautic, I used to dream of going to a safe house or someone from Church inviting me to live with them as they would be inspired. I met a lady who said that someone felt the Holy Spirit tell them that they needed her to move in with them for a time so I believed it could happen for me. But I hardly ever told a person about my problems. I did not confide in teachers or clergy until I briefly mentioned it when I was going on a misssion so I wouldn’t be home. At any rate, I count my blessings that I feel safe at home so much so that I took the steps to work from home. Of course, working from home saves me a lot from actually going to work. Annegb, I hope I have room to post my thanks for you acceptance. Most of my online friends I did not confide in regarding problems. I shared with you a few others who endured far more than I think I could endure. And you never minimized any of my problems whoever small my trials may have been to yours. I remember in College when I was about 19 that a professor said to write an 8 page paper. Although it was using resources, I remember thinking that I would not be able to fill that many pages. It amazes me somewhat how I used to rattle of emails to you in serial chains. I would number them and all. Thanks for not being overwhelmed. I appreciate the blogging community for letting me vent in days/years gone by. I really didnt think I was bottled up or repressed at that point. At any rate, I felt so much better after sharing with caring and kind people. Well, my email does not seem to work and my computer told me it has viruses still although it is rebuilt. Maybe I got new ones. But for today I am having fun online. Thanks so much for acceptence. I probably have higher self esteem than I come across and I credit that for people like you who treat me like I am more normal than I am. Thank you for believing in me! |