25 Runaways Share The Circumstances That Led To Their Drastic Decisions

Home is where we are supposed to feel safe, wanted and loved. However, the world is not a perfect place and not every home provides these basic requirements. While most people are lucky enough to have a warm and welcoming home to run back to when things get tough out in the world, for others home may be where they feel the worst.

#1

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I’m on the other side of the globe. I backpacked for a bit, but already had a job lined up. It wasn’t the first time my parents stopped speaking to me, but I have no plans to return to my home country. Life’s much nicer without them.

#2

Image source: gotnomemory, Meg Aghamyan / Unsplash

I didn’t run away initially. I was kicked out of my house in January 2015. I was on the streets and in a s****y spot in my life before I met my wife. She tells me I’m retroactively crazy, but I fell in love when I met her. Jan of 2016, I ran away with her to another state. We hit a rough spot, but we’ve been happy ever since.

I don’t regret disappearing from everyone’s lives.. okay, I miss my sisters. Outside of that? No. My former classmates are all ridiculous, the job market was hard when I relied on buses and I had s**t experience. Now look at me. Two cars, a house, a beautiful wife, and three beautiful, charming, mentally handicapped cats. I couldn’t be happier.

#3

Image source: samsalias, MKU018 / Envato

I ran away just after I turned fifteen. I had been living with my dad, who’s a narcissistic alcoholic. My mom didn’t really want me to live with her. She lived a few states away.

Several extremely generous families took me in over the next three years until I finished h**h school. I had to change houses every now and then because my dad would threaten to sue whoever I was staying with. One man in particular was like a father to me and helped rehabilitate me (living alone with my dad my whole life had caused psychological issues and misconceptions about family, love, etc.).

I was able to maintain my grades and matriculate at a prestigious university. I ended up becoming a software engineer. I love my life now, and few people know about my backstory. I have no contact with my dad.

#4

Image source: pixidoxical, Hrant Khachatryan / Unsplash

Due to various causes, I came to be living with a very bad family member when I was a child. Unbeknownst to me or any of the nicer family, he was a d**g d****r and involved in a child s*x trafficking ring. You can put the pieces together – I did not have a fairytale childhood, obviously.

I allowed him and his buddies to think I was completely broken, biding my time. Then when I was older, I snuck out one night and hitched a ride with a kind trucker and he drove me halfway across the country where I reached out to my dad, who I had been estranged from (my mother had demonized him, none of it had been true).

I got myself into therapy, and after a while, applied for college, and now I’m going to be graduating with a computer science degree next May. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and my dad and I are extremely close. :).

#5

Image source: Catsnamedwaffles, Getty Images / Unsplash

I ran away from an a*****e foster home at 16. Ended up moving in with a family from my church and getting adopted by them. I’m 28 now and hold a bachelor’s, I’m currently pursuing a Master’s. I still struggle with emotional trauma but everything gets better with time.

#6

Image source: Jill-Sanwich, iam_os / Unsplash

My parents used to push me out of the house as “punishment” when we would get into arguments. This was among a range of a*****e punishments they used to keep me in line over the years. We started arguing a lot after I turned 18 because I was trying to make plans for my future and was literally told that I wasn’t allowed to. Not just that I wasn’t allowed to plan ahead, but that I wasn’t allowed to move on and live an adult life. I wasn’t allowed to get a job, move out, or go to college. These were actual things I was told I was forbidden to do when I was an 18-year-old h**h school senior. The first time they made me sit outside after I’d turned 18 was a freezing cold night in early February, 4 months after my 18th birthday. In that moment it clicked for me that there was an entire world of better things for me out there than the position I was in. By the next time they made me sit outside, I had already snuck most of my stuff out of the house. I had a friend help me by stuffing her own backpack full of my stuff or secretly picking up stuff I’d leave hidden on the side of the house. It only took me 4 days to get ready for the next time they pushed me out in the middle of the night, which was about a week later. That night, I turned around and walked away, and I haven’t looked back since. My parents tried showing up at school and making a scene, telling everyone who would listen that I ran away, but I was able to use the defense that “They actually kicked me out, and I’m 18 so I don’t really have to go back”. The police or anyone at school couldn’t make me. I finished my senior year out couch surfing, but life is pretty normal now, and in spite of its hardships, I love being free. I’m currently working on my second university degree, I have my own place, dogs, and a job that pays the bills. Sometimes in the midst if everything mundane I have to appreciate being able to drive my own car, leave my house whenever the f**k I want, and being able to send a text without the anxiety of being constantly watched. It could have been worse for me.

#7

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I left my adoptive parents’ home during summer break last summer at age 19. My parents have always been wildly manipulative and a*****e. Still, since they adopted me out of foster care, it seemed like normal behavior in comparison to the beatings, malnutrition, and s*xual ab*se I had dealt with between the ages of 0 – 13. It wasn’t until I started talking about it to friends and my SO that I was told it indeed was not healthy.

Throughout my entire first year of college they would threaten me, make me feel awful for attending college away from them (even though I attend an Ivy League school for free), and say terribly hurtful things to me. I was guilted into coming back home for the summer even though I was deeply dreading it. Four days after I got back from college for the summer, my parents stopped talking to me and only referred to me as “the rude one.” I decided that being home made me deeply miserable, so when my parents went to work on day 5, I left and went back to school as an emergency. I left them a long letter detailing my feelings and explaining that I was willing to work on repairing it all if they were.

Right after I left, they reportedly called the cops but were told they could do nothing. They tried emailing me and all of my friends / family outside of them, saying that they were worried and confused about why in the world I left. I refused to go back home, which angered them, but after a few weeks, they calmed down. At that point, I truly did try to repair our relationship. However, it created a cycle where we would talk for a week, and then they would f***k out at me, telling me that I was selfish or a terrible daughter, that I wasn’t handling the situation like an adult, or that I had changed. After 7 months of this, I completely cut off contact, and that is where we still are.

They try to contact me occasionally, either through email, letters, or my boyfriend, but I am still recovering. The second round of faulty family dug up a lot of past trauma, and everything has been really, really hard. Despite this, I feel so much freer, self-assured, and safe, and that has only been increasing from the moment I decided to cut off contact.

TL;DR: Left manipulative and mentally a*****e adoptive parents after first year of college and eventually cut off contact; feel much better.

#8

Image source: anon, Curated Lifestyle / Unsplash

I ran away at 16 with 2 months rent and barely scraped by for so long. I had to give up baseball where I had college offers to work 12 hour shifts on weekends and work at nighttime. Sometimes I didn’t sleep for 24-32 hours. Work->school->work.

First off, anyone who’s thinking of running away; unless you’re in danger or being severely neglected only then do you need to leave. If you can help it, work work work work and save up as much money as you can, while you’re at work you won’t have to be around them.

I ran away to my own apartment, but I got off at 11pm at night after being in school since 8am, so there wasn’t really a point but I guess it did help me mentally. It seemed easier that I was doing school full time and working 40 hours than living around them. I wish I would’ve stuck it out at home for another month or two, if my car would’ve broke down I would’ve been screwed.

Use your resources and have a plan. If you f**k up its going to set you farther back than someone who has a support system would. Don’t trust the guidance counselor, don’t trust anybody, it’s why there are people with 100k in student loans with no plan to pay it back. Go for degrees with 2-year fields or trade school. I’m 20 now and just got into nursing school. School is paid for through financial aid, and I even got to pocket some money left over after books and tuition were paid. I also took out 3k in private loans just to give me a little cushion and so I can eat meat instead of ramen.

Finally, know there is a light at the end of the tunnel, you just have to work harder than most and plan smarter than most, but at the end it’s worth it. Don’t play ignorant and say “nobody taught me;” nobody’s going to feel sorry for you. You have to take what’s yours and use your resources. YouTube was a better father to me than my own.

#9

Image source: kittles1234, LightFieldStudios / Envato

Hey, I can answer this! Tldr at the bottom.

I ran away from home when I was fifteen. The first couple of months were pretty great, actually. I moved in with my older brother, who’d also left when he was 17 (he was then 20), and pretty much stepped in as the parental figure, except that I had much more freedom. But he’d just had a kid, and his (now ex) girlfriend decided that she didn’t like the place we were living and stopped paying rent without telling anyone. My brother lost his deposit and couldn’t find a new place for his kid AND me, so we agreed that I should find another place to live. After that, I started sleeping on friend’s couches using the money I’d made from working fast food to pay their parents for a place to sleep and booze. That quickly spiralled into uncontrolled alcoholism that lasted throughout my entire junior year of h**h school. My already C-averaged grades plummeted to straight failures and I quickly dismissed any chances of getting into college.

To this day, I’m not sure who called him or how he found out where I was living, but on some random day near the end of my first semester of senior year, a Marine Corps recruiter showed up at my friend’s door asking after me. Through what I now assume to be the combination of his persuasiveness as a recruiter and the desperation of being stuck in a small town, I signed into the Delayed Entry Program within the week with the expectation that I’d ship out after I graduated. I quickly stopped drinking, and the following semester, I took extra classes to make up for the ones I’d failed. I still worked odd jobs with s**t pay and slept on friend’s couches, but I’d started hanging out with new, more supportive friends and my new goal in life kept me from screwing up too badly. Despite the damage I did to my grades in my junior year, I miraculously managed to graduate on time.

After that, I did end up shipping off. I became a Marine (yut) and got to do a lot of cool stuff and see a lot of cool places. I even met a nice lady and married her! The Corps taught me a lot about my limits and instilled a sense of confidence and discipline that now defines a large part of who I am. Ultimately though, I decided to get out and go to college to do engineering. Hey, remember that one time I shat all over my grades in h**h school? The universities certainly do! I got rejected from two of the three schools I applied to, and the third school’s engineering department rejected me while the university itself had accepted me. When I called, they effectively told me that I could still go under a different major, establish a college GPA and then reapply. The physics department had the same math requirements, so I chose that as my major. To fulfill one of the elective requirements I took intro to astronomy because I figured it would be easy (what’s a planet amiright?), but was quickly blown away by how awesome it was. It just happened that the professor teaching the intro class was an instrumentalist, which effectively means that he’s an astrophysicist who engineers the telescopes himself. Initially, I was fascinated by the engineering side of things, but he also got me excited about the cool science we could do with the stuff they could build. I got straight A’s through my first year of college, but I decided to stay in physics and added Astrophysics as a minor. Also, I joined the astronomy club. Also, I started working at a planetarium during my time off. Seriously, guys, space is cool.

By the end of my college career, I’d joined a lab doing instrumentation and ultimately decided to continue doing research in graduate school to get my PhD. Unlike h**h school, my college grades were amazing, and with a little research under my belt, I figured I had a chance. I applied to 9 schools, one being an Ivy League but not really expecting anything from it. I got into all of them, including the Ivy League.

And I wish I had more of a story to tell, but that’s pretty much where I’m at now. I’m a few years into my graduate degree at a very prestigious university, engineering telescopes to look at stuff in space in order to convince NASA to give me more money to build bigger telescopes to look at more stuff in space. I love every second of it. And to be honest, I’d probably still be in that small town drinking my life away if it wasn’t for my friends and the military.

I’ll admit that I took a look at your post history, but I didn’t really see anything telling. If you’ve just run away from home and are in a bad way, I’m here to tell you that you can still be successful. I know life can be s****y, but there are good days. Find friends that support you. Set a goal for your future. It doesn’t have to be so drastic as the military; look into trade schools, or college, or anything that will make you feel productive really. Just try to come up with something you can really want and push yourself toward it. Feel free to PM me if you need. That goes for any of you.

TL; DR Ran away when I was fifteen, was cool, then sucked. Drank a lot. Joined the military. Went to college. Now in grad school.

#10

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My aunt adopted my two older brothers and me when I was 5, but she’d been fostering us since I was 1. My oldest brother is autistic and schizophrenic, and she treated him like absolute s**t. Middle son was the golden child and I was the princess. We all called her mom.

When my oldest brother left home at 18, I became the target of her ab*se. Hitting, emotional and verbal, all the fun stuff. This went on for several years.

When I was 15, I told her one Friday if she ever laid hands on me again I’d leave forever. I’d already talked to my middle brother about crashing at his place for a few days if I needed to leave. On Sunday, she punched me in the face, bit me, scratched me, slapped me, kicked me, and threw me on the ground by the hair. So I started the 11 mile walk back to her house (we were at my grandmother’s) to pack my s**t and get out. She picked me up three miles in and told me if I left she’d have no interest in maintaining a relationship with me.

I went to my brother’s for three days, but he had a wife and a kid and couldn’t support me longer than that because he was broke. From there, went to an acquaintance’s house for a night then went to school the next day. Had to talk to three different cops (incident happened in one town, lived in a second, went to school in a third) and she showed up in the middle of it all. Had to talk to a social worker who laughed telling me a story about a mother ripping bleeding chunks of hair from her daughter’s scalp and told me moms and teenage daughters just fight, it’s normal. I told all four of them the same thing, that if they made me go home I would run away over and over and make them come find me every time because I’d rather be homeless than spend another night in the same house as her.

They told my mom this, so she gave permission for me to stay with a different friend. I stayed there for a week, but she broke her hip at work (anorexic) and I had to leave. Went to stay with one of my mother’s coworkers who I had known for about 6 years who was a foster parent. I’m still really close with her ex-husband, he’s the only dad I’ve ever known.

Was there a year and a half, divorce proceedings start, as a difficult and by this point d**g addicted kid I start getting the blame from her and she tried to force me to move back in with my mother (who wouldn’t have taken me even if I had been willing to go). Moved in with my pastor whose daughter I was very close with for three months and went to Job Corps when they ran out of money to support me (I was 17 at this point and had just graduated h**h school).

I got married a month after my 18th birthday to a 19-year-old who turned out to be gay. We’re best friends now and have two pretty f*****g cool kids. I’m 23 now, he’s 25, and we’re still roommates because as it turns out the kids who go to Job Corps instead of college don’t have that much income potential! We’re broke but it’s honestly kinda tolerable right now. I’m finally in college and so is he, trying to make sure our kids have less rough childhoods than we did.

#11

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Left when I was seventeen. I was homeless, did d***s and drank ALOT.

I had a LOT of s*x as I was still a virgin until I left.

I was sheltered, controlled (Homeschooled by religious nuts) and ab*sed and I finally snapped.

I ended up pregnant by a guy who lived with his family in a old 80’s suburban.
I was scared, and I didn’t love the guy. So I tried to straighten up by myself. I ended up miscarrying and fell into a deep depression and gave up on life, I thought I was what my parents have been telling me my whole childhood. So I started prostituting and doing more d***s and drinking more, I gave zero f***s about my life and let these men do whatever to me, I just wanted to die but thought I would be a p***y if I k**led myself.

After many men and a year later, I met my husband, he responded to my Craigslist ad and I met up with him to “Do my thing and get paid”.

And I never left…

We own a home now, I have a regular job, we just smoke pot, I don’t drink much anymore.

I found out that I can’t have kids, but I honestly think that’s for the best. We struggle still but not as bad as it could be. I have a lot of emotional problems still and a very hard time keeping away from bad habits my parents drilled into me.

I still live in the same place this all went down so I run into people from my past and it’s awkward. My parents have been trying to claw their way back into my life but I keep them at a arms length.

Even though I’m better off now than before, I know because of how I was raised that my life will never be easy. I have no education, I have a hard time socialising and I can’t figure out what to do with my life long term, but at least I’m taking it one day at a time.

#12

Image source: anon, Joel Rivera-Camacho / Unsplash

Father let step mom ab*se me

Left home at 17

Lived in my car

Got a government job doing telephone me calls

Heard a rumor where my mom was

Found my mom who abandoned me on the other side of the country

Joined the army

Got hurt

Moved on

Met a girl

Got an apartment together

Got a good job

And now starting school in the fall

Getting leg all patched up so I can reenlist in the army if they’ll take me.

#13

Image source: thespinesmoustache, Getty Images / Unsplash

I tell people i’m an orphan. it’s easier, generally. my mom died when i was ten, and my father was never…. a person who should’ve been in charge of another human, let alone a parent. he was drunk for two solid years, and got nasty with his words whenever any amount of any emotion happened. he threatened to kick me down the (very very very steep) stairs pretty regularly, and as far as i know there’s still a hole in the drywall shaped like my back from the time i was so scared he was actually going to do it that i launched myself into the hall so i wouldn’t be on the landing anymore. i don’t think he remembers inappropriate touching, but. i sure do.

i spent a lot of nights sleeping outside because it was preferable to being in that house (i’ve slept on anti-homeless spikes–still better) but i didn’t have anywhere i could run that he wouldn’t have found me until i graduated h**h school. i got accepted to a good state school, moved up, and never looked back. (well, i did get dragged down once. to make it “official” that i was no longer welcome in his house, as a red-eye trip. told him point blank that i had no interest in any sort of contact with him, because at the best of times he’d been neglectful and manipulative, and that when i got back on the bus he wasn’t going to contact me unless it was legally relevant or he was fully prepared to apologise and atone for everything he did.)

as for life now: not gonna lie, it kinda sucks. i live with complex-ptsd, long-standing health problems both mental and physical, two jobs, and a full time student workload. i have a cat whom i love, three roommates who i tolerate-enjoy-love respectively, and therapy drives me up the wall. it’s tough and i’ve considered quitting a lot, but… i’ve been on my own since i was ten, basically. “i’ve been an competent adult since i was twelve years old.” it really f***s you up to know so sincerely that 1) it really is that easy to leave everything behind you and 2) all those people who were meant to protect you never did and never bother trying to contact you now. so… that’s my story, i guess.

#14

Image source: anon, Getty Images / Unsplash

I left home in 1993. I hitchhiked and traveled. I followed the Grateful Dead for a while. Got married. Joined the army. Lived a decade or so in Germany. Raised 4 kids. Moved back to the US, but not home. Got diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and retired at 43. Now I watch a lot of TV.

#15

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This is the very very condensed version of my story. Tl;dr at the bottom.

I was 16, just weeks away from turning 17. I had a boy that promised I could move in with his family, and after a particularly difficult night at home I packed a trash bag of things and left. Only, it turned out that the boys family wasn’t okay with me living with them. So we lived in his bright red Jeep Liberty. I started working a minimum wage job and had this dream of getting our own place, and getting married. Only it turned out that minimum wage 13 hours a week doesn’t cover much in food let alone an apartment. I made budget after budget only for him to blow through it. I hardly ate on most days. After a month or two an old friends mom called me out of the blue and told me to come to her place. She wanted me to live with her. Her only conditions? I couldn’t get pregnant and I had to pay some amount of rent. Okay fine. The boy moved back in with his parents. He would drive me to work on the days that I worked and I had a plan to go back to school.

Then I found out I was pregnant. I was 2 months along and I knew I wanted to place the baby for adoption. So I quietly moved out of the apartment without letting the friends mom know, because I was so ashamed of getting myself pregnant. We told our parents the situation and the plan for adoption because I was still on my parents insurance. The boys parents let us move in with them until the pregnancy was over.

9 months later I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, and watched as the fathers we had picked for her held her.

A month later I quit my retail job and started selling life insurance. Things were looking up, I could support myself and the boy (who was actually a piece of s**t and didn’t work the entire time we were together) and we got our own place. I was working crazy hours trying to save up enough to buy my own car and go back to school. Eventually I broke, had a panic attack in a clients house and when I finally made it home I had realized I needed to break up with the boy.

2 months after that I had moved out of my apartment, quit my well paying insurance job, and moved in with a new boy, because clearly I am great at making decisions.

The new guy was awesome. He was a marine and worked decent hours and we were happy. We would go out and spend nights with his friends who took me in and loved me. Then one night at a party somebody brought c*****e. He bought some and I tried it.

From that point forward I changed. At some point some friends of his offered me a job out in Louisiana and I accepted believing I’d come home with a car and a couple grand after 2 weeks. When the day came for them to pick me up I was sick as a dog. I had called asleep and when I woke up I was 7 hours away from my house and into Louisiana. We arrived at their place and they made it clear I wasn’t leaving. They held me there with no real contact to anybody in my life for a week. At the end of that week after having guns held to my head and forced to do things I never thought I would do, I convinced them that I was playing along. That maybe I should call my boyfriend and let him know I was okay. When he got on the phone I invited him out to see us. He came and as soon as I got a chance we jumped in his car and drove home. I was terrified and he knew something was wrong but I couldn’t tell him.

I began cheating on him because I felt trapped and scared and alone. I turned to c*****e and alcohol even more, because at least I knew how it made me feel.

Eventually I started working again and making good money. I got close with my d****r because I could finally buy for myself. I still had no car, and no real future but I was convinced I’d get there.

That brings us to December of 2016, I had broken up with the marine and come clean about my behavior. We began to work things out as I was still living with him when one night I decided to end my life. I called my d****r and made a huge order. But when he got to me to drop it off he asked if I wanted to hang out. So I did. That was the start to a 4 day binge. Then Christmas came. I called my mom and asked if I could come home for the holiday. I was coming down from a great weekend and wanted to try and reunite with my family. She said no, because my siblings would be uncomfortable.

3 days later, sitting on my dealers couch, I got a call. My older brother had been hit by a car. He was brain dead. I went to the hospital and saw my whole family for the first time in 3 years. I cried alone. Away from my family because I didn’t want to take any attention away from my brother.

I went to the funeral, and when it was over I realized I was homeless. I called my d****r as we were kind of dating at that point and I moved in with him. Over the next ten months, he beat me, convinced me to run for him, isolated me from everybody I used to know, and convinced me I was trash.

On September 12th last year he stomped on my face because I was trying to leave. I wound up in the ER and refused to press charges. My parents let me stay with them for 5 days. At the end I went back to him.

On October 13th 2017 I went back to my parents and asked them to buy me a plane ticket out of state. An old family friend had offered me a place to stay. Saturday October 14th I arrived and was greeted with open arms. I got sober that day. I’ve been sober for the last 6 months. I got my GED, I started working two jobs and got a car. I am working on myself every day. I found a great church and through it an amazing group of friends. For the first time in my life I see a future that isn’t filled with pain and threats of death. I am finally learning to let myself be happy. I’m moving forwards. I have my first public speaking gig which will hopefully translate to more in the near future and I plan on going to school in the spring.

Tl;dr: 3 years ago I ran away from home. I made some really good choices and then made exclusively bad choices. I was hurt and let myself be a victim. 6 months ago I ran away again. Only this time into open and loving arms. I’m sober and happy and safe for the first time in a long time.

#16

Image source: mewfour123412, stockfilmstudio / Envato

I’m not much of a writer but here we go: my step father is a violent monster, him thinking your lying must mean your lying and if your lying he would beat you bad. While I was ab*sed my sister got everything: an iPhone an iPad while I was banned or barred as he said from even having an iPod. Now let’s being my real father into all of this he is the most loving selfless kind hearted man you could ever meet. So a few month earlier he finds out about what alex is doing and a few months later we organising a way for me to flee. So I pack up my school uniform and a few changes of clothes (had to leave my school laptop there and I didn’t get it back until a month later) had my step father drop me off for the bus to tafe went to tafe and had my father pick me up (oh year I was in year 10).

#17

Image source: usbfridge, Luke Miller / Unsplash

My plan was to make it upstate and get to NY, eventually police caught up to me. About two years later I moved out through legal means, and I ain’t looking back!

#18

Image source: anon, Daniel Gregoire / Unsplash

I ran away at 16 (with my now husband) to escape an a*****e mother who is an a****t. We lived in s****y motels for a month running from the police, and then my grandmother bought a condo that we eventually moved in to together. It was honestly the best thing I ever did for myself. My mother is so toxic and dangerous that I needed out. My husband and I have been together for 9 years this July. I’m forever thankful I had the strength to get up and leave.

#19

Image source: HotelAnvil, Krane Sheng / Unsplash

I left home when I was 17. Thinking back now it was the best thing I ever did. Right around the time you start to want to get a job and get your learners license just like everyone else I couldn’t. What I didn’t know being my 16 year old self was that my mother brought me on a plane to Canada from the UK at the age of 1 and just kept me here. Never filed any papers to say that I even existed. I was essentially a ghost.

In Canada you can send your child to school so long as the guardian is either a permanent resident or a citizen. Therefore the school never asked questions. I got my first job when I was 19, super late to the party. I was lucky enough to have some truly wonderful people I barely knew take me in. I am now in the process of attaining Canadian citizenship despite having lived here since I was 1. So I will never regret running away because if I hadn’t left then I would be a 24 year old man with nothing to my name.

#20

Image source: PapaSteel, Wavebreakmedia / Envato

I left when I was 13. My grandmother helped pay for the initial damage deposit on a minuscule one-room suite and helped cover rent when I was low due to extremely a*****e parents. For the next 5 years I had super s****y below-min-wage ‘kid’ jobs and got only a few hours of sleep per night. The people I thought were my friends were just using me because a teenager with his own place was a hot commodity.

When I went to get my driver’s license years later, I found out that my name was on a government list – possibly grandparents’ doing – but my parents never filed a Runaway Report. So there were some complications but nothing like what I would have faced if they cared enough to fill out paperwork.

Not quite twenty years later, I’m still not totally adjusted. I have a ton of pent-up anger and paranoia that my whole life could just suddenly be destroyed in an instant, so I’m a prepper for the worst kinds of issues you can imagine. I did well for myself financially but have serious issues when it comes to relationships, and basically just move through a series of one-night stands or long-term friendships with an element of s*x to them.

I tried to reconnect with my parents a few years ago and had dinner with them, and it was terrible and heartbreaking. F**k those people – I’d do it all over again without hesitation.

#21

I had to leave my home during Hurricane Katrina. I remember watching everything I owned disappear under floodwater on the news. We evacuated to a relative’s place, crammed in with a dozen others. It was overwhelming, but what hit the hardest was starting over with nothing but the clothes on our backs. No pictures, keepsakes, or even my dog’s leash survived. It’s been years, and while we’ve rebuilt, I still sometimes look back and think about the life we had before the storm.

Image source: CustardSmall445

#22

Image source: Cranksta, Anthony Tran / Unsplash

My mother ab*sed me my entire life, violently. I have lasting physical disability due to her ab*se. My father has been dead longer than he was ever in my life, and before that he was an alcoholic.

I turned 18 and for some stupid reason I thought that meant the ab*se would end. It did not. She beat and molested me for the last time a week after I turned 18. I put on a pair of shoes and walked out.

I was homeless for a few weeks. I was able to find help at a few shelters and started working towards getting my GED (I hadn’t seen the inside of a school since 4th grade) and hopefully a job. They kicked us out every morning and didn’t let us back in until late at night. It was summer, in Phoenix, but I met a lot of people that I still consider friends of a kind.

My estranged siblings (dad’s kids from a previous marriage) ended up finding me online and offered me a room. From there, I’ve been slowly rebuilding my life. Four days ago, it turned a decade from the moment I walked out.

It hasn’t been easy. I still feel homeless. I don’t think I’ll ever really settle into a place- we didn’t have reliable housing when I was a kid either and home has never been home. I have a husband now though and that’s something. I still see my siblings regularly. I’m going to school.

I don’t regret walking out. If I hadn’t, she would have k**led me. Some days, I think dying would have been for the best because a lot of my life is permanently damaged due to the ab*se.

But I guess I’m still here anyway.

#23

Image source: SwedeTrump, Kike Salazar N / Unsplash

I guess how you define running away matters for my case, my mom and dad divorced and I for sure didn’t want to live with my mom.

So I chose that dad should have full custody (I have other siblings so there was kind of a battle thing) even though I knew he’d never be around. Doesn’t even live in the same country.

So I moved abroad and he pays the bills and puts money in my account while I still go to school, we still talk a lot and he visit me sometimes, I was feeling quite ill a few weeks ago and then he came down and helped me.

I kind of felt like I ran away, but I guess it’s not a hitchhiking from Missouri to California living on the streets story.

I’m for sure never going back to mom, I miss my younger brother who my mother actively denies contact with me and my dad. Quite happy to not have to deal with my twin sister.

I get on, live alone, date a very nice girl at the moment, going for GCE A-Level and working extra sometimes at a bar. I can’t complain.

#24

Image source: anon, Burçin Ergünt / Unsplash

I started by traveling to India in the 70’s, I am now in Amsterdam, married with a son. It’s been quite a ride.

#25

Image source: Lil-Night, Pedro Vieira / Unsplash

I’m not sure if this would really be classed as running away, but with how overbearing my family was, it felt like it in some ways. I was 19, nearly 20, and I had just started my first year of university. I lied to my family and said I was required to live on campus in the first year, because I was desperate for a taste of independence and freedom from them. It was only a half hour drive away, but that was long enough to ensure they wouldn’t visit – they wouldn’t go out of their way to visit, but it was expected that I would for them (bare in mind I can’t drive).

It wasn’t even 2 weeks since I’d moved away that me and my dad were texting and he said something that rubbed me the wrong way and I ended up calling him out on the s**t him and his mother had put me through over the years. Of course he feigned ignorance and refused to even acknowledge my accusations. Eventually he suggested we should just go our separate ways, and I didn’t bother replying. I knew him very well, if I had tried to fix things he would have ‘won’, and if I agreed to not have anything to do with him he would have felt like he was his decision not mine. I didn’t want him to feel like he was in control, and I didn’t want him to have any closure.

I very nearly faced homelessness at the end of my first year of university, but my partner suggested that we move in together. We unfortunately had to live in my hometown because of his work, and it wasn’t a big town, so I spent over two years terrified every time I left the flat, in case I bumped into them. I also changed my entire name, because every time people called my name it felt like I was still my family’s property. I’ve since graduated from university with a 2:1 in Psychology, Counselling and Therapies, and I’ve been looking for work for almost a year. My partner suffered a very severe case of depression, and was unable to bring himself to go to work, which caused a lot of worry for both of us about finances and paying bills. His family was extremely supportive, and they stepped in to help us big time, and we both really appreciate all the help they’ve provided. A few months ago we moved out of my hometown and in with my partners family, and I’m having better luck with getting job interviews. It’s freeing to not fear for my safety every time I leave the house, and I’m also now on anti-depressants which are a huge help, and I’m seeking therapy for the first time in 23 years. It’s only been two or three months since my partner and I moved, but our relationship has become significantly stronger, and our mental health has improved.