And no matter how hard I tried, the peace I sought always seemed to allude me.
Rather than facing my reality, I learned to escape—through childhood memories of dolls and Disney, through reading and writing about far away places, through music I listened to and music I created. I escaped in other ways, too, always searching for the thing that would solve my problems and make everything better.
But no matter the escape, misery followed—because I kept running into the fact that I couldn’t escape myself.
I watched from afar as others seemed to get what I wanted—the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect life.
What was wrong with me?
I felt hopeless, and stuck in a life that I didn’t ask for and didn’t want.