Avoidance is something I learned early in childhood. I learned to disappear from my parents, stretching out the time before whatever punishment was coming. Sometimes I got lucky and their tempers cooled before they even remembered I existed. It was easy, and I became very good at it.
That skill followed me into adulthood. I put things off as long as possible, not wanting to deal with whatever was coming for me. When money was tight, I avoided the bills until the last possible moment, hoping they’d magically show up with zero balances. They never did, but I held onto the fantasy anyway. Avoidance turned small problems into embers, and by the time I reacted, they were full‑blown forest fires.
I pushed my luck too far more than once. I lived without electricity, gas, internet, or a phone. I managed, somehow, snaking my way through life. I paid a steep price a few times — missed car payments led to repossessions. Twice. And no, I didn’t learn my lesson.
Now I sit here, trying to build a new life after rising from the rubble of my WTF year, and avoidance has come knocking again. On my desk sits a pile of past‑due utility bills, all unpaid and threatening disconnection. At the top of that pile is an eviction notice. I stand to lose everything I’ve fought for these past few months. I’ve shed some of my old habits, but not this one. Hiding isn’t a good look, and it’s one I don’t want to wear anymore.
So this is where I stop running. Avoidance has been both my armor and my undoing — a survival skill that outlived its usefulness. Every time I hid, the damage grew louder, heavier, harder to escape. I don’t want to be chased by my life anymore. The bills, the notices, the fear — they aren’t monsters in the dark. They’re facts, and facts can be faced.
I may still feel the urge to disappear, but I’m learning that showing up, even imperfectly, costs far less than running ever did. This time, when avoidance comes knocking, I plan to answer.
Still standing, trying to figure out to pay these bills,
K.
I'm Still Here. Somehow... 