Escaping Reality

 

Breathe When Life Feels Too Heavy

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There are moments in life when the walls close in. When the air feels too thick to breathe. When even the things that once brought joy—laughter, connection, a favorite song—become muffled by the noise in your head. It's in these moments that I’ve found myself needing to escape reality—not to run away, but to survive. To find a space where I can just be without the expectations, the responsibilities, the pain.

I used to feel guilty about that need. About zoning out, taking long walks with my headphones on and no destination, getting lost in movies or books or simply lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I called it laziness. Selfishness. Weakness. But I’ve learned—am still learning—that escape can be an act of self-preservation. Sometimes, it’s the only way I can cope.

Reality isn't always kind, and there is a certain heaviness that builds when you try to hold it all together for too long. Whether it's work pressure, family obligations, illness, grief, trauma, or just the exhausting grind of being human, the weight adds up. People will tell you to be strong, to push through, to "keep your head up." But what they often don't see is how hard it is to keep your head above water when you're already drowning inside.

For me, the breaking point never came with fanfare. It came quietly. Like waking up one day and realizing I hadn’t felt like myself in weeks. Like snapping at someone I love for something small, and then crying afterward because I didn’t recognize the person I was becoming. Like avoiding phone calls and texts because pretending to be okay was more exhausting than being alone.

The escape wasn’t always physical. Sometimes, it’s as simple as curling up with a blanket and turning the world off. Other times, it’s driving until I forget where I was going, or spending hours sketching meaningless doodles just to keep my hands busy. I’ve written letters I’ll never send. I’ve sat in silence and imagined lives that weren’t mine—ones where I felt lighter, freer, less burdened.

And you know what? That’s okay. Because those moments of escape gave me room to breathe. They helped me pause. They gave me enough space to figure out what I was feeling before those feelings consumed me entirely.

At the end of the day, reality will still be there. Eventually, I come back. We all do. But I return with a little more clarity. A little more strength. Sometimes even a new perspective. I don’t always have the answers, but I come back with just enough hope to keep going.

And that, I’ve come to believe, is more than enough.

–Humanity ECW