The route was a familiar one, carved and conditioned over time.
Something would happen to upset me and I The running continues)would set off to run in that direction, on that route to that destination. It became automatic. I would make the run to that place and before long I would nestle again into that old and familiar habit. I convinced myself that here was safety. No one else was involved. No one else had to know and I wasn’t hurting anyone else as far as I knew. I could cope when I ran here. It was my shelter from the hurt and a place where I didn’t have to engage with any of that which caused the pain.
Sure there was something that didn’t quite feel right and in as much as it provided escape and it was a coping mechanism, it didn’t make things any better. It didn’t provide any healing or hope. The peace it provided was more about the cessation of hassle but not the inflow of wholeness. The escape it provided was hollow. The way out was illusory.
But this was my place. My place to run to. And I ran there often. The run brought with it a thrill to find something there that I was used to, however ultimately empty it would prove to be. At least it would mean I wouldn’t have to deal with the pain at that moment.
That was the old run. To be honest, from time to time I feel like going on that run again.
What’s wrong with that? People need to have their way of coping. People need to have that place to escape to from the hurts and pains of life. What could possibly be wrong with that?
(This keeps running …)
(Photo: Unsplash)
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
C. L. J. Dryden
Life With CD 