Run, TL, Run

I have Drapetomania. Sometimes I want to run and hide away from the world. Not because I can’t face a problem or am trying to avoid responsibility. If there’s anything I’m good at its facing problems head on and carrying responsibility. Those two traits have weighed me down most my life. No, I want to run and hide when I’m scared, hurt, or lonely. I’m not afraid for my safety, at least not when it comes to the physical, but I’m sometimes afraid my heart can’t take any more abuse, my spirit can’t handle any more pressure, or my mind can’t deal with any more torment. I sometimes run to save myself.

I’ve been running my whole life. I’ve watched people I’ve loved very much walk right out of my life. Well, that’s not true. I left them. When they’ve hurt me, I’d leave. But it doesn’t mean I wanted to go. It was my way of protecting myself. It’s my reaction of self-preservation. I used to not be able to recognize it until very much after the fact, and by then it was too late. But these past few years I’ve started to notice the triggers, see the signs, and understand why I feel that way. Knowing the why still doesn’t always stop me from running, but it sometimes helps me find my way back. It’s not just a simple choice I can make. It isn’t a recent development. It’s very deep seeded PTSD from childhood trauma. It’s like an addict fighting an addiction. They know what they need to do, but the only promises you can make is to take it one day at a time.

I don’t do any kind of drugs and I rarely drink. I don’t have any addictions that control me, and my mind is often very clear and introspective. By all logical common sense, I should be able to keep my feet firmly planted and not run, but I still find myself sometimes running really, really fast away from the people I love most – because my mind fears them and the pain they can cause.

This running reaction has destroyed just about every relationship I’ve ever had. The only ones that have endured are my children, and it’s because they refuse to let me go. I think that’s the key. I have a few friends, very good friends, that I’ve tried to push away so many times, but they refuse to let me go. They don’t put up with any bullshit from me, and tell it to me straight, but they’re the ones who showed me the truth about myself… but they had to show me while holding me down and not letting me go. (I’m not talking about physically holding me down, but emotionally not giving up on me.)

The thing that hurt me most when I left my husband of 20 years was that he never tried to stop me from leaving – not in any way whatsoever. It doesn’t mean I was going to stay, but it does mean I wasn’t deemed worthy enough in his estimation to try and stop me from leaving.

I remember watching my father abuse my mother, me, and my brothers, and would just wish and pray he would leave, but he never did. Not only that, he threatened anyone who tried to leave, which only made me want to go even more. I eventually did leave, but the whole time I stayed it wasn’t because I was afraid to leave, I was afraid of leaving my family unprotected. So, I stayed and endured the abuse until they were old enough to protect themselves. I then ran and never looked back. What hurt more than anything, my sacrifice to stay was for nothing. My mother and my brothers never loved me enough to try and protect me. They let me run, and some even became the abusers and manipulators I tried to protect them from becoming. I have no relationship with them as adults. Every time I try to get close to them, they’d hurt me by stealing from me, lying to me, using me, trying to manipulate me, – so I’d run.

I don’t run because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Every time I’ve ever ran, it’s ripped my heart to shreds. It hurts so much it takes my breath away. I still can’t sometimes breathe. Someday, I’m going to love someone and that love is going to scare me, and I’m going to turn and try to run away… but they’re going to love me enough to grab my hand, wrap their arms around me, and refuse to let me go… and they’re going to have to do it often.

I’m not afraid to run. I’m afraid no one will ever stop me.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Feeling as an Obligation

I’ve experienced many humiliating things in my life, many things I don’t like to even talk about. The damage from those things have left deep scars within me, but none as pronounced as the consequence of feeling as an obligation. Actually, this one thing makes me run for the hills faster than anything else in this world. I don’t run to keep from hurting. On the contrary, I run because I’m hurting very badly. I’m not so strong these days to just ‘suck it up’ and paint a smile on my face as I pretend all is right with the world. That dam blew a few years ago and I’ve been running since.

I suppose this feeling started early in childhood, being told repeatedly that I was a burden, unwanted, unplanned, and a nuisance. Even my nickname was a daily reminder of how much of an burdened obligation I was to my family. I was called “Sap”… because I was that sticky mess one got from a tree and was almost impossible to wash off, no matter how much you hated it. I was bitter and left a bad taste in the mouth. I suppose I wasn’t as sweet as my younger half-sister, whom was called “Sugar”. Later my oldest daughter was called “Sweetie”, but I was always “Sap”.

I became so independent I wouldn’t let people help me. At first, to hide all the secrets that needed to be hidden so that I wouldn’t be taken away from my family, the family that didn’t want me, yet I loved them as all children do. But as I grew older, I became even more independent because I learned to hate them and wanted to get far away, as far as I could. Every relationship I’ve had since, I’d never let anyone have control over me by becoming dependent on them, especially in becoming an obligation.

What I mean by obligation is have someone do something for you NOT because they want to, but because they have to out of responsibility. There’s a lot of things that come with obligation… things such as resentment, bitterness, pity, frustration, blame, and strife. This is true not just in relationships, but for every aspect in life… from work, recreation, socializing, friends, etc.

When the first (I believe only) man that ever really loved me, scars and all, died in combat in Somalia in the early ‘90’s, something else died in me right along with him – I went numb. I soon afterwards got pregnant and married a man who wasn’t in love with me so I could fulfill my own obligations to my children. I was a zombie, yet I searched diligently for years for that spark of life. I search in marriage, I searched in family (his family), I searched in faith (church), I searched in career, I searched in my dreams. Yet, every day I felt unloved, unwanted, as an obligation, and it seared my soul. A couple years ago I left it all. I ran. And slowly, I began to feel again. Granted, I’ve spent pretty much the last few years hurting, crying, with a huge lump in my throat… and some days just begging to be numb again and not feel anything. But, I can’t. There have been some days where I have felt love, I have felt freedom, I have felt so happy and alive. So, no matter how much I may hurt, I can’t shut it off again… because I know there is good to feel too, and all the pain is worth it for those brief moments.

So, I find myself, at the first hint of feeling as an obligation, running… and running fast. It’s the strongest trigger into my PTSD. I wish I was perfect and always responded with perfect reactions, but I don’t. I’m broken, and damaged, and a mess. I’m doing the best I can to be something beautiful and positive in this world. I’ve seen too much ugly. As much as I’d love to promise to never run, I know I can’t make that promise. Just make me feel like an obligation and I don’t think I’d be able to stop from running, even if I wanted. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you. It simply means… I can’t be “Sap” anymore. She no longer exists and I won’t resurrect her.

I believe… someday, someone will love me enough to stop me.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

To Pursue, or Not to Pursue

I had a guy message me yesterday after not hearing from him for a few weeks.  When I didn’t respond to his message, he posted another text asking why I’m not talking to him anymore. I considered not even answering that post, but reconsidered. Maybe he didn’t really understand the reason for my silence, so I broke it and responded with something like the following:

“I haven’t been responding to your messages because I now realize that you’re not really that into me. I want to feel wanted and I didn’t. I felt you wanted me sexually, but not emotionally. You never called. You barely texted, and I just felt like I was an afterthought. This is the beginning of a relationship and I should be a consuming thought. I don’t want to be someone settled for, but someone desired, pursued… wanted. I want to be worth the effort, the chase, the prize. How can you catch me if you’re not even running after me? I really liked you and was very attracted to you, but I kept waiting for you - until I realized I’m not supposed to be waiting.”

I hope the next woman he meets inspires him to be more pursuant. I also hope the next man I meet will find me worthy and desirable enough for the chase. He is going to have to chase me because I only know how to run.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The Lessons I Learned

Stepping out of my warm apartment this morning, ready to tackle another mile run in a fight to keep my body healthy, I groaned when I met dreary overcast skies and strong artic winds.  Where was my sunshine? After a shiver as the cold blasted me in the face, I stuck the buds in my ears, hit the play button on my iPod, and took off. 

It was a very difficult run this morning.  The winds were so strong I literally had to bend my head down and push hard just to get any forward motion.  Being really short, I already struggle with my speed.  It takes more of my short steps to reach the same distance as a taller person in the same amount of time.  When I’m running against 28mph wind gusts in 32 chilly degrees, I don’t get very far, very fast.  Needless to say, though I’m working twice as hard, I didn’t make any gains on my running goals.  I hate not making my goals.

As I ran and glanced into gray clouds, and watched swarms of leaves cascade across the ground in mighty waves, I wondered how many more days will be like this. I heard no answer.   I pushed forward with my lungs burning and my muscles aching and wondered how much longer I have to keep fighting.  The answer came instantly - always.  The fight never ends. So, I pushed a little harder and wondered what lesson I was supposed to have learned from all this adversity.  That I can take a good beating?  Guess what? I learned that lesson a long time ago.  That I can live in a world unloved and unwanted?  I’ve learned that lesson too.  That nothing is guaranteed, nothing is secure, nothing is forever?  Check, check, check. 

Well, by this time, warm tears spilled out of my eyes and turned ice cold before they reached my cheeks.  I looked up into those gray swirling clouds and inside my mind, above the noise of the music and beyond the buzz of the universe, my soul screamed, “I know that a sun sits above those clouds. I know behind this angry arctic blast is a warm whisper in the wind.  No matter how hard adversity comes against me, or how long reprieve remains silent, I will still hope, I will still believe, I will still fight, and I will still love.  And if I’m still here when the wind stops and the clouds part, I will be standing with my head held high. Do your worst.  Destroy me if you must. I will not give up.”

So, what lesson did I learn on my chilly run this morning? I’m stubborn, perhaps a big fool, and quite lonely.  It’s not good to be isolated in your own mind all the time.  I’m beginning to understand why friends are so important - they provide an opportunity to take the focus off ourselves for a few moments.  I also learned to take a jacket and wear a pair of gloves.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray