The Art of Escapism

By Ava B

Aliens, valiant Viking warriors, persuasive pirates, even monumental monsters. Anything to distract myself from the mundane or upsetting will do.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve had an active imagination. This runs in my family as well, seeing as my sisters also have imaginations that spread beyond that of even Tim Burton. However, as I’ve grown older, my imagination hasn’t shrunk as drastically as I’ve noticed others’ have. I still create impossible and incredible scenarios in my mind in the moments between life. In the little seconds and minutes where I’m not doing anything in particular, I’m writing out entire worlds in my mind. When I started middle school, I thought it was time to grow up and that having such a wild imagination was silly and unnecessary. I later found that it is much harder to put a cap on creativity than it is to be unique. Still, I tried. I tried because too many times had my expressions deemed me “weird”. I didn’t want to be weird, I wanted to grow up. 

So, I tricked myself into thinking that I was growing up. Whenever I caught myself in fantasyland, I’d shake my thoughts from my head and quickly find something to focus on. I grew, and as I did, I met new people, one person in particular being my now best friend. She has artistic skills that I still envy, which I learned came with a high dose of creativity. Not unlike the copious creativity I’d tried to lock away. She fashioned a key, one of encouragement and assurance that she used to set free oceans of imagination I’d forgotten I was capable of. 

Immediately, I was constantly drawing, creating characters, writing stories, designing clothes to fit into the worlds I created. I was unstoppable. Not only was my creativity free to go and spit out whatever it could, but I had a new coping mechanism. Whenever my mom and I fought, I’d go to my room and write a story or lay in my bed and imagine a whole new reality. This only intensified as I got older and went through more. The harder life hit me, the more this became a preoccupation. I later learned from my therapist that what I’d been doing for most of my life was called escapism, and many people do it. People like me! I wasn’t as strange as I’d thought! Sure, I was far from typical, but I was less lonely than I’d ever thought.

Escapism begins at a very young age, and everyone does it. In some cases, such as mine, individuals don’t grow out of escapism, which is actually normal. Everyone thinks differently, everyone copes differently, and escapism is a one hundred percent valid and effective way to cope. However, it shouldn’t be the go-to solution for all problems. Sometimes, it’s better to solve problems than it is to pretend they’re not there. This in no way makes escapism cowardly. In fact I consider it brave to create perfect places and risk hiraeth. To this day, I use escapism as a form of coping and creating art. I’ll never again shame myself for having a mind full of invention and panache. I will forever cherish escapism and be proud to be an escape artist.