Rabbetting On: They say you can't run away from your problems but it's the best thing I ever did

In the midst of a breakdown I booked a one-way ticket to Greece - and I have zero regrets
Running away from my problems was the best choice I ever made Running away from my problems was the best choice I ever made
Running away from my problems was the best choice I ever made

We've all heard the saying: "Don't run away from your problems, they will just chase you and get bigger and bigger", I however beg to differ.

Last year, when life got too much and the problems got too big to face, I took off - and it's the best choice I've ever made.

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2022 was one of the most challenging but ultimately rewarding years of my life. I was grieving intensely for my mum and heartbroken following the end of my headed-for-marriage relationship and truthfully, I narrowly avoided a fairly monumental breakdown.

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After moving out of the home I'd built with my long-term boyfriend and back in with my dad (this becomes a theme, dear reader, you will come to learn), I found myself on a slippery slope of school-night clubbing, serial dating, and anything-but-nutritious eating.

I was repping grown-out roots and bags under my eyes that I jovially played off as 'Chanel'. I wasn't in a good place and after a fairly sizeable outburst of tears on the steps of a less-than-reputable pub in my hometown, I decided something had to give.

And so I phoned up my best friend (the type who is always down for the next adventure) and we planned our escape, three months in the Mediterranean with nothing to worry about but where we'd sleep the next night.

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It was quite a shocking move for me (the type A good girl) and it raised a fair few eyebrows among my family and colleagues - especially since I'd just acquired my dream job. But the sad truth is, I wasn't ready, I was too young and my brain was too fried to think about anything other than topping up my tan.

Laughter is the best medicine

Laughing into an Aperol Spritz was better for my brain than therapy Laughing into an Aperol Spritz was better for my brain than therapy
Laughing into an Aperol Spritz was better for my brain than therapy

We left on August 6th and returned 90 days later, thinner, blonder, and happier than I'd ever been in my life. During those 90 days, I laughed (every day), cried, screamed, and dealt with things that I simply wouldn't have been able to if I'd stayed put.

I allowed myself to grieve (for my mum, for my relationship, and for my old life) free of judgment and away from a space that I found painful to frequent. I gained more from those days away from home than I did from months of extensive therapy.

I ate better, amazingly drank less (booze), and moved my body every day (even if it was just to walk to the beach). I immersed myself in other cultures, made friends from across the planet, and pushed myself out of a comfort zone that had become problematic.

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When we returned I was more assured of my boundaries, I had a greater understanding of the things I needed for the next chapter and I had a new zest for life that had utterly disappeared. Even now, when the tough days inevitably come around, I simply pack my brain off to a Mykonos beach bar, Pompeii or Malaga for that much-needed escape.

So in short, I suppose sometimes the answer to your problems isn't staying put and facing them head-on but rather hopping on a plane and laying on a beach in Greece. If you're going to be miserable, it is certainly more bearable with a cocktail and a good book in hand (it's definitely more fun).

Confession time: I didn't read the book...

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