I’m Out of Here
I’ve been feeling a major tug at my heart for a few weeks now. It’s a recurring need to drop out. I call it my disappearing act because periodically, I feel the overwhelming need to do just that — vanish for a while.
It’s strange but whenever I drop out of sight, things that were making me edgy melt away, almost into thin air.
I head to the wild blue yonder and turn off social media. No more listening to news and no contact with friends and acquaintances. A new location is required, a place where I can find anonymity. I bask in the fact that I don’t know anyone, and they can’t have any preconceived notions about me.
I don’t need to prove anything and have zero obligations to participate.
I’m a nature lover, a died-in-the-wool tree hugger. So, I do what I do best, immerse myself in nature. Trees and water, mountains and songbirds, white tailed deer and honeybees.
That’s all I need to safely hide from modern demands and annoying people.
I’m not a big fan of people, but when I reach the point of over saturation, it’s beyond not wanting to hang out. Quickly I need to escape, get out of town, blend into the background, avoid contact, reduce noise, and deny access to my being-ness. That’s it. I’m done.
When I manage to vanish for a while, I heal.
Eventually I return. I’m prepared to do my best once again to be a human doing rather than a human being. Until next time, that is. Deep down inside, I know that I would fare better if the situation was reversed. If I lived off grid far away from the madding crowd and only came out of hiding on rare occasions when I felt the urge to do so. But that’s not easy to do. Life demands participation.
So, I resort to my disappearing act several times a year. Something tells me that it’s time once again.
Teresa is a retired educator, author, world traveler, and professional myth buster. You can find her books on Amazon.