Haven

I dream of running away to a place of quiet, of freedom, my own harbor. I have always been an escaper.

As a child, my paths to refuge were books, walks, my bike, my bedroom, the late-night hours in my bed, thinking and imagining.

My brain needs space to have its own adventure, away from the demands of other voices and images, of questions and problems that take a tax and leave it depleted. These spaces have been respites that have helped me survive.

As an adult, I have lost my way.

I think that binge-watching shows or scrolling on my phone is my doorway to escape.

Those things have all the appearances of one for sure.

But really they just bring so many voices and images and questions flooding into me. Overwhelming me.

I plod through my days in a fog of chaos. Depleted.

I must reassess where my true refuge lies,
and rediscover my way there.