Why You Want to Run Away (and What to Do Instead)

When the Fantasy Has a Visa Application

There’s a very specific moment in burnout where your brain decides the only fix is to move countries. Not a holiday. Not a long weekend. A full relocation, ideally somewhere with better bread and a more flattering accent. If you’ve ever found yourself three hours deep in visa requirements at 11pm, building a Pinterest board called Cotswolds Energy, you already know the feeling I’m talking about.

I had this exact spiral a few months ago. I’d convinced myself moving back to the UK was going to fix everything. I had spreadsheets. I had a fantasy version of me drinking green tea in a flat with original cornicing. I’d lived there before and genuinely loved it, so on paper it wasn’t even a wild idea. It just happened to arrive during the worst eighteen months of my adult life, which should’ve been the first clue.

The thing about the great escape fantasy is that it always feels rational while you’re inside it. You’re not running. You’re being decisive. You’re not avoiding. You’re being brave. It takes a real moment of honesty to look at the spreadsheet and ask yourself whether you actually want this life, or whether you just want out of the current one. Babe, those are two very different things.

Running Is a Coping Mechanism With Wheels

For some of us, running is the default. Things get hard, and the brain immediately reaches for the suitcase. New city. New job. New haircut you’ll regret in six weeks. It feels productive because it requires logistics. You can mistake activity for healing for a really long time before anyone calls you on it.

The trap is that no matter how far you go, you take yourself with you. Same brain. Same patterns. Same nervous system that’ll be waiting for you at the new apartment, sitting on the kitchen bench, asking what’s for dinner and why you still haven’t dealt with anything. A new postcode doesn’t rewire your grief. A new accent doesn’t process your heartbreak. The thing you were running from gets there before your boxes do.

What helped me, and what might help you if you’re in it right now, is naming the actual feeling underneath the fantasy. Not the dream version. The real one. Mine was exhaustion, grief, and a very specific kind of loneliness. None of those have a passport solution. Once I could name them, the fantasy lost its grip. The visa tabs got boring. The spreadsheet went into a folder I never open.

What You’re Probably Actually Craving

Most of the time, the urge to run isn’t really about location. It’s about wanting to feel different. Lighter. Calmer. Less stretched. We just default to geography because geography is concrete and feelings are slippery. It’s much easier to build a moving plan than it is to sit with the fact that you’re tired in a way no flight can fix.

So when the urge hits, ask yourself what you’re actually after. Rest? Quiet? Permission to do nothing? Space from people who drain you? A break from your own routine? You’ll often find the real ask is small and very doable, just unglamorous. Nobody’s making content about putting their phone on Do Not Disturb for a Saturday, but it might be the exact reset you keep trying to book a flight for.

The other useful question is what you’re moving toward versus what you’re moving away from. Excitement and desperation can look identical in a Pinterest board, but they feel completely different in your body. One has a steady hum. The other has a high pitched whine that sounds suspiciously like avoidance. If your fantasy is mostly relief shaped, that’s information. If it still feels like home when you sit with it calmly, that’s information too.

Small Reset, Same Postcode

If you can’t or don’t want to actually leave, the good news is that most of what we crave from a big move can be replicated in much smaller ways. Rearranging your space. Changing your walking routes. Getting off the bus a stop early just to see different concrete. Tiny shifts that sound embarrassingly simple, but your nervous system clocks them. A flat that feels like a sanctuary is a much shorter project than emigrating.

There’s also the internal version, which is honestly the heavier lift. Putting boundaries around your time. Saying no to plans that drain you. Letting yourself be bored. Letting yourself be sad. Letting feelings sit next to you on the sofa instead of trying to outpace them. None of this is cute. None of it photographs well. But it’s the part that actually moves the needle, and you don’t need a one way flight to start.

The reframe that changed it for me is that running away can be small and still count. Closing the laptop at a reasonable hour is running away. Deleting an app for a week is running away. Taking yourself out for a glass of wine and a long stare into the middle distance is running away. You don’t have to cross an ocean to give yourself a break. You’ve just got to be willing to take the one you’ve already got.

When the Move Is Actually the Move

That said, I’m not here to gaslight anyone into staying somewhere that’s hurting them. Sometimes the move is the right move. Sometimes the environment is toxic. Sometimes the situation is quietly draining the life out of you, and the only honest answer is to go. The instinct to leave isn’t the problem. The unexamined instinct is.

The test isn’t whether the fantasy is exciting. The test is whether it survives a calm, well rested version of you. If you sit with it on a good day and it still feels like a yes, that’s worth listening to. If it only feels urgent when you’re tired, heartbroken, or running on three hours of sleep, that’s worth listening to as well, just in the other direction. A real fresh start doesn’t need you to be in crisis to make sense.

So if you’re in that headspace right now, the one where everything feels too heavy and somewhere else feels suspiciously easier, I’m not going to tell you to stay. I’m going to tell you to get really honest about what you’re running from and what you’d actually be running toward. Sometimes the answer is a flight. Sometimes the answer is a long bath, a cleared calendar, and a conversation with yourself you’ve been avoiding for months. Either way, you deserve the version of escape that actually delivers.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

If this post helped, inspired, or made you smile, you can support my work with a tea or tip over on Ko-fi. Every bit helps keep the chaos flowing.