John Kenny traces how childhood retreats to a safe hiding spot taught him relationships were unpredictable and his needs wouldn't be met. That early coping strategy became a lifelong pattern: he'd isolate himself, believing solitude protected him from conflict, while internalizing that he didn't matter.
Where are we?
This is where I used to run away to. And we'd come and sit up here. I have no idea how long I used to sit here for because it was a long time ago. Probably felt like forever, but it may have only been about an hour. And I'll just sit around here and wait.
Why were you— why did you come here? Why were you here in the first place?
This is the kind of furthest place that I could come to that I felt safe, but I knew exactly how to get home because it was just a straight line all the way down, which took me straight back home, so I knew how to get home from here.
So I learned that relationships are unpredictable and unstable, that good stuff doesn't last, and that I'm not actually very worthy of positive attention. I'm not going to get my needs met, that my safe space was to be by myself. So I formed a pattern that I would run away. So I learnt from running away that nobody cared, that— because nobody came to look for me, and then nobody really noticed I'd gone. So I learnt I didn't matter. I also learnt that being by myself was safe. So I couldn't get hit by my brother, I couldn't get shouted at by my dad, I couldn't get ignored. By my mum if I was playing by myself in my bedroom with my toys. So as I got older, my return spot was always, be by yourself. So all these other stuff, all these other things would go on, but I was always— I would always end up being by myself. I would sabotage everything. I would choose to come back to my safe space, and my brain was telling me that was okay. Even though it was a hugely painful experience.
