Run, baby run

I often have the urge to run away.

When I was a child, sharing a room with my sister, I ran away to live in the upstairs bathroom. It seemed far enough away and luxurious at the time. I had planned on actually running away, but it was snowing outside, and if nothing else, I was a practical child.

There are times in my adult life I’ve wanted to run. When life gets complicated, when things feel too intense, when I don’t know how to appropriately react. I have this strong desire right now, to pack myself and D in the car, with just enough to get by; to drive off with no destination in mind.

I want to hide somewhere where no one knows me, where no one asks anything of me. Where there are no regrets for recent decisions or anxiety attacks over changes impending.

the lullaby tune

I took a new job inside a hospital. I have to walk through the maternity ward to get to work. Today, on my third day, I asked what the little music meant. I thought perhaps it was someone’s cell phone, or a nearby office’s phone or music.

Turns out, they play a little musical piece every time a baby is born.

The women who told me were all tender and misty when they explained. “Isn’t it precious?” “It is such a sweet practice!”

It’s my defense mechanism to make a joke, or a sarcastic comment. I responded with, “it’s almost so sweet, it’s nauseating”. Because, isn’t it easier to deflect than to admit that those notes cut through to my heart once I knew what they were?