How to Run Away From the Circus

It’s a phrase you hear all too often:

“I’m going to run away with the circus!”

And it’s a phrase you shake your head at, laughing at the complete blasphemy of the idea. Nobody runs away with the circus. NOBODY!

Except, well, actually, quite a few people do.

And we don’t call it ‘running away.’ We call it ‘work.’

Like hundreds, thousands of people before me, I took a job working with a circus. And it… Was… Amazing!

But now I find myself running in the opposite direction. Why? When? How?

Nobody ever talks about running away from the circus. Why would anyone run away from something so amazing? Good question. Unfortunately there are no tutorials to answer that question! Which is why I’m here to tell you exactly how to run away from the circus.

Let me explain it to you. In a very detailed, very drunken, very sarcastic rundown of the series of events that led me here. I will explain exactly how to run away from the circus. And this tutorial definitely won’t work for you unless your name is Aleisha and you also experienced an unfortunate series of events in the early days of 2020. But no matter, I know you’re not here for a working tutorial. You’re here to listen to me vent about my life! So let’s do it!

As I write this, I am sitting on a plush couch with a dog sleeping at my feet and a Meg Ryan film playing on the television. Am I watching it? Absolutely not. Am I drinking the bottle of wine wedged between the seat cushions beside me? Absolutely. Don’t worry, I am not an alcoholic. I’m merely addicted to running away to absurd places, and getting drunk before I leave is a cheeky little ritual of mine. Also, I had to clear the fridge and that meant clearing out the wine.

So here I am!

Let’s start from the beginning.

On the 21st of December, on a bright and sunny morning in a hospital in Sydney…

WAIT. TOO FAR. CRAP. LET ME FAST FORWARD.

Okay. Give me a moment to pull myself together. Okay. I’m okay.

Let’s start from the beginning aka one year ago. One year ago I took a job working with a traveling circus in Australia. And it was the best decision I ever made. Why? Because it led me here, to this couch, with a dog at my feet and a bottle of wine wedged between the seat cushions while a Meg Ryan film plays on the Telly. One year ago I ran away with the circus. And now, almost exactly one year later, I’m running away from it.

In order to run away from the circus, you must follow these very vague steps that likely won’t relate to you at all (or don’t. Everyone does everything differently):

1. Join the circus. It’s simple logic, really. I mean, how are you supposed to run away from the circus if you were never a part of the circus to begin with. Duh. A more in-depth tutorial on this step will be posted later.

2. Have the best time! You’re not going to feel sad about running away from the circus if you never enjoyed it. Again, basic math. Indulge in the lifestyle! Find yourself becoming close with extraordinary and talented performers, wonderful workers and fellow circus runaways. Spend every night getting to know your new family. Laugh with your new friends. Drink with your new acquaintances. Confide in your new sisters. The circus scene is unlike any scene you’ve ever experienced. It’s amazing and unpredictable and exhausting and wild. And it’s everything you never knew you needed. Enjoy it. While it lasts.

3. Realise when things are going downhill. Management is flaky. Performers aren’t happy. You’re becoming restless again. Opt out! Head over to Europe for two months! Live out of a backpack! You love the circus, man! But you feel the need to spice things up a bit! You have no negative feelings towards the circus lifestyle. But you know yourself and you know that you need a change! Anyway, have an amazing time overseas and come back when you’re ready to work again.

4. Return home and move to the opposite side of the country. Take up a job in another circus! Gain new skills! Realise that this is the career you want to pursue! Catch someone’s eye! Decide to stay on the other side of the country after your boss leaves. Tell yourself you’ll get a regular job until another circus position opens up. Tell yourself you’re staying to better your skills! Tell yourself you’re not staying for anyone but yourself. Ignore all the responsibilities facing you back home. Have someone catch your eye too!

5. Have your heart broken. By a person. This person makes you question what you’re doing. What are you doing? Were you staying for him? Don’t do that, that’s stupid. Always put yourself first. You book a flight. You run away from everything circus.

Have your heart broken. By the death of your dog. Sixteen years old. You’re twenty. That’s over half your life spent together. A vet arrives at your house in the morning, fifteen minutes before your scheduled phone interview. Nail the phone interview whilst the vet is waiting outside. You go outside and see your dog pacing in circles. Her eyes are milky and she is disorientated. Hold your dog. Her name is Tuppy. You used to play fetch together. You took her in when she was just a puppy. You watched her grow from a puppy into a dog, and you watched the life drain from her eyes. You and your mum sit with her, caressing her greying fur. The vet inserts a needle filled with green liquid into her leg. Tuppy is standing on the soft, green grass. She doesn’t know where she is. She’s blind and she can’t hear. She feels safe on the grass, with the feel of the blades between her toes. You kiss her forehead. You watch as the vet presses the plunger. In Tuppy’s last moments, you hold her face as she falls to the ground. Sixteen years doesn’t feel like enough time together. You crack. Your heart breaks. You cry harder than you’ve ever cried before. You cry harder than when you realised the man you trusted had betrayed you and cheated on you. You cry harder than you’ve cried all year. You’re devastated. Nothing has hurt this bad before. You watch Tuppy’s lifeless body as your mum lowers her into the ground. Sixteen years together. Suddenly, she’s gone.

One week later, you receive a call. You got the job. You put on a good act. They had no idea of the grief you were feeling that day. They have no idea that five minutes after you finished the interview, your childhood companion passed away in front of your eyes. They have no idea that it was you who made the final decision. You told your mum to call the vet. You told her it was time. You persuaded your family to put Tuppy out of her misery. Because she refused to give up. And every time you came home, she was closer to death. You did her a favour.

6. Say goodbye. You visit your favourite circus friends. They’re working at a new show. You realise how sad you are to be leaving the circus scene. But you know it’s the right thing to do. For yourself. Put yourself first.

You say goodbye to your circus friends. And, in doing so, say goodbye to all things circus.

You make amends with the person that broke your heart. And he doesn’t ask you if you’re okay. He doesn’t acknowledge the grief you’re feeling. But you realise that’s okay. What he did hurt you in a way you’ve never felt before. But it didn’t hurt as bad as the death of your dog. Besides, barely anyone asks if you’re okay. You realise you’re making the right decision. You book your plane ticket.

7. You fly away. You run away. You turn away. From the very thing that gave you joy. From the very thing that finally gave you a purpose. From the very thing that finally made you happy.

You run away, because you know your acrobat is not the only acrobat like that out there. You turn away because there are no immediate jobs going for you. You fly away because you don’t want to associate the feeling of heartbreak and sadness with the one thing that brought you joy and kept you on your feet.

So, you leave. You run away from the circus. And with every second you’re away, you feel your heart healing.

Until one night you get drunk while watching a Meg Ryan film with a dog sleeping at your feet. You’re notorious for drunk texting. You’ve been known to blabber about throwing up out of taxis and throwing up in bushes overseas and throwing up before kissing attractive South Americans. But this time, you don’t throw up. You don’t kiss any attractive South Americans. And most importantly, you don’t drunk text anyone. For the first time in months, you feel no need. Because there is nobody you want to drunk text. There is nobody that you want to pour your secrets to or make laugh with your ditsy stories. Unlike every other time you drank, the last person you want to message, is him.

8. You begin your new life with a smile. A new job with new people in a new environment. And although your heart is healed, you know it’s not time to return to circus yet. You’ll return when the time is right. And I can’t tell you when that’ll be. You’ll know. Your heart will know. Your body will know. Your mind will know. And after getting to know yet another group of amazing people, you will make the decision to leave, yet again. Because you’re a runner. And that’s what you do best.

Even if that acrobat hadn’t cheated on you, you would have run.

Even if your childhood dog hadn’t died, you would have run.

Even if you had have found a job in a different circus, you would have run.

You love the feel of the wind in your hair and the surprised expressions as you run past people. You love surprising everyone with the unpredictable paths you choose to take in life. And once you’re finally finished proving yourself to the world, you’ll return to circus. You’ll choose one path, and you’ll stick to it. Until then, drink lots of water, and eat lots of vegetables. You’ll need to stay healthy and hydrated for all the running you’ll be doing.

8. BAMBOOZLE EVERYONE! Look, my tutorial, or whatever you want to call this self-aware blog, is over. You’ve run away from the circus. It’s up to you what you do now.

Direct a film.

Move to Japan.

Run away with the circus.

The choice is yours! Don’t let anyone tell you anything different! Sure, the choice you make might seem crazy. But if it makes you happy, do it. Do whatever brings you joy, no matter what anyone says. Follow your own dreams, you beautiful disaster, you.

Lots of love, a former circus runaway.