It appears from the first moments of life, sometimes even before birth. It creeps silently into the hearts of those who were "unplanned" children, children of the "wrong sex", children of an overwhelmed mother or a father who is too cold to know how to give love.
The child who feels unwanted... will not ask. He will not cry too much. It will not bother you. He will withdraw. And he will learn early to hide. This is how the escape mask is born. A mask of the invisible. Of the one who prefers to leave before being chased away. The one who does not get too attached to each other, because he knows what it is like to be hurt when you break up.
The escape is the man who does not believe that he has the right to truly exist. When someone loves him, he is afraid. When someone appreciates him, he doubts. He feels it's a mistake. It's too little. That if it's really seen, it will be rejected again. And then they take refuge in perfectionism, in silence, in solitude. As if his existence were too bold an act.
But all this running is just a cry: I want to be loved. I want to be chosen. I want to feel like I have a place in the world.
Healing is hard, but it comes. When the refugee starts to look in the mirror and say: I can be here. I am worthy of love. When he starts to hold his inner child in his arms and assure him: You don't have to run away anymore. I am here with you.
And especially when he understands that those who rejected him didn't know any better. That they themselves may have carried the same wounds. And forgiveness is not an excuse, but a liberation.
Because the fact is, no one can truly love you until you do first. And when the refugee in you is no longer afraid of the light, then... life really begins.