Escapism-ay, there’s the rub

Now, I wasn’t planning on using this blog as a way of writing about personal things. I figure, you reading about me (whom you know little and care little about unless I sent you this link) is not very interesting. But I’ll try approach this from a broader side.

Escapism is interesting because it occurs in different layers. It can be thought of as a way of allowing a person to dull the effects of a stressor. But escapism is not, generally, considered a bad thing until it reaches extreme forms; everything in moderation is good. And escapism is completely necessary to human survival, when you think about it. I am not capable of doing any-one-thing for too long. I cannot worry about a problem forever. I cannot tackle a challenge without breaking, or taking a break. Escapism is one of the few things that is universally accepted but no one ever thinks about unless it evolves into substance- or sex-abuse.

But what happens when you need to escape from escapism, away from fantasy; forcing yourself into reality because being a glutton of fantasy loses its sin. When I can’t deal with reality, I force myself into writing or books or hanging out with friends, or doing something that gives me no time to heavily think about anything else. & sometimes none of those things appeal to me, in which case I’m stuck. So I adapt. I pick whichever poison causes the least bodily harm, the one to which I’ve developed the most resistance. Now, granted, I don’t have a constant problem in my life. When I had a problem too heavy to deal with, I slept. And slept. And slept. Until I received help, and began to cope. The same as coming off a drug.

So escapism can happen in drugs, but escapism is also a drug. And sleeping is closest to death that people can achieve without going comatose. And for some, death is the only escapism.

When is one thing worth it? When does it become destructive?

“To die, to sleep—

To sleep—perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub,

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause. There’s the respect

That makes calamity of so long life” - Hamlet