As the day wore on, I could feel an undeniable urge building inside me. Morning faded to afternoon, then evening, and the endless demands of parenting were chipping away at my patience, threatening to drive me over the edge. The mounting frustration and resentment were like a knot in my throat, and the impulse to burst through the front door and leave it all behind swelled deep in my stomach.
Every part of me craved space, a release from the self-imposed cage I’d stepped into willingly. I needed to breathe without someone tugging at my sleeve, to think without a chorus of interruptions. I longed to reconnect with myself, to remember who I was beyond the title of “Mom.” I was at my breaking point, and I recognized it.
So, I told my partner I was taking off, laced up my sneakers, and ran away from home — no kidding.
Now, let me be clear: I’ve never been a fan of exercise, especially running. It’s not my thing; I’ve never experienced that elusive runner’s high everyone talks about. But that day? I ran like my life depended on it. I ran as if I were prey being hunted, my heart racing as I put distance between myself and everything I loved — my supportive partner, my adorable yet demanding kids, and the life we’d built together. I escaped the relentless cries of “Mommy! Mommy!” and the chaotic whirl of “That’s not fair!” and “I’m hungry!” I fled from the mess and the power struggles, the tantrums, the whining, and the noise that never seemed to end.
I ran, and I didn’t look back. I dashed down streets, up hills, and around corners. With each stride, the tension in my shoulders began to fade, the weight of emotional labor lifting as I put space between me and the daily grind. I could finally hear my own thoughts again, and I began to feel a sense of self returning to me.
I paused to catch my breath in an unfamiliar neighborhood, looking through a window at a woman doing dishes. She didn’t seem happy. Was she a mother, too? What was going through her mind? Did she ever feel like escaping?
I glanced back toward home and took a deep breath. The urgency that had propelled me out the door had dissipated, replaced by a gentle pull to return to my family. I began walking back, my heart steadying in my chest. I was okay. I was whole. I could breathe again. I was ready to embrace being “Mom” once more.
I walked halfway home, then sprinted the rest of the way. Back to my family. Back to the life I cherish.
That day taught me an invaluable lesson about motherhood. You can love your family wholeheartedly while feeling the need to step away. It’s completely normal to feel fulfilled yet overwhelmed. Spending too much time in one role can make you forget to nurture your own spirit. It’s okay to escape out the front door without guilt. And through a simple half-hour of exercise — something I thought I loathed — I rediscovered the part of myself I’d lost.
Many moms I know have days when they feel like bolting. When you feel that urge, seize it. Slip on your shoes and go. Take deep breaths, let the air fill your lungs, and relish the freedom that awaits you outside the chaos of everyday life. You won’t regret it. Your body might return sweaty and worn out, but your spirit will come back rejuvenated.
I’ve made it a habit to dash out the door regularly, and it’s made me happier than ever. I highly recommend it to my fellow moms. You might find that running away from home is one of the best decisions you can make — for yourself and for your family. For more insights on this journey, check out this blog post for a deeper dive into self-exploration.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jamie Thornton shares her experience of feeling overwhelmed by motherhood and the liberating decision to take a break by literally running away from home. This act of stepping away allowed her to reconnect with herself and return to her family with renewed energy. She emphasizes the importance of self-care for moms and encourages others to embrace moments of escape without guilt.