A fear of commitment. A fear of acceptance. A fear of intimacy.
Even as I write this at 1:23 in the morning, completely faded, I find myself listening to ‘Somebody to Love’ on repeat. Whilst writing this, I am conscious of what exactly I’m allowing myself to feel.
I didn’t realise that I ran away until very recently. For the longest time I felt like maybe I wasn’t ready to commit and that’s a deficiency in me, but I couldn’t comprehend how it manifested. It had to be apathy, right? It’s not like it could just be a fear of commitment. I’m realising that it’s that train of thought thats led me astray. In essence I don’t remember a point I was able to commit to anything. Friends, family, partners, professions, passions, anything. I’m confused whether it’s about accepting and compromising or about looking for the right answer. Whatever it may manifest itself as.
I got really confused last night as I wrote this, my head kept constantly spinning as I attempted to write out feeling I was too intoxicated to comprehend. This morning I woke up and turned on my laptop because I felt like I had to complete this one rather than scrapping it. Though even as I woke up my head was completely battered. I’m a little less jittery and a little more stable now, now that I’ve succumbed to my addiction, first thing in the morning before I even brushed my teeth. I don’t know where I’m finding myself.
Back to the point I was making last night. In a very casual conversation I admitted to having a trait I’m not very proud to have. I didn’t realise the reality of the severity of the problem until the words left my mouth. An inability to commit, not to a relationship, not to an act, not to a dream or a passion, but an inability to commit to myself commiting, I’m not sure if this is confusing or I’m just not in a clear head space but what I mean to say is it’s hard to actually commit to the things I’ve told myself I have commited too. So I guess I’m just a liar.
Take relationships for example, even when I was in one in which there was no real fear of the future, at that point commiting to forever wasn’t the problem. I remember writing this little thing for my ex called ‘Red’ it was I suppose a you’ll make it through when I go type thing… and that was early on, in the first year of a relationship that lasted a few. I’m just realising that I had all these problems so fundamentally engraved into what I thought was a healthy person back then. I was I suppose just stupid.
People constantly tell me, when it’s real and the commitment is real, you don’t think about the act of commiting itself. Now I personally don’t know what the fuck that means. Even in my most recent relationship, I fear I may have run away either because of a fear of commitment or because of guilt, guilt that I’m evidently too broken to be in a relationship. Maybe it was both, but the former and the latter are what I hope to use this blog to cure myself from.
I was going to mention Paris, a no longer imaginable fantasy, one very very few know of. Even of those that read this maybe just a single one. One I met early in the fall semester of 2019, I’m not sure why I told him. But it felt right too, in that conversation. But I don’t see a reason to mention Paris, because that’s me suggesting I want something I don’t. By no means do I want the lifestyle I used to have, I just want the innocent happiness, that I’m kinda realising didn’t really exist…
I’m taking a smoke break, and then I’ll get back to this. My head feels to clear to continue writing this one.
Okay I’m back.
By no means does this blog or my public writing aim to hurt anyone or expose anything better unsaid. But for me, this is the only way I find myself able to communicate with myself and confront my problems. All I try to do is share how I feel and why I’m feeling those ways, so that I can hold myself to what I write. So I don’t lie, to myself. Having this blog being public, and my podcast. They keep me accountable, to not lie. To not create a false reality I lose myself.
Whenever I introspect, well… I suppose it’s a constant proccess so whenever I decide to write about something I just try to articulate why I feel the way I do, the best way I know how. When I’m not at this keyboard I find myself having the air pulled out from my lungs, having my mind flooded and swimming in an ocean of confusion and self doubt. The only things I can pull out are reasons or memories that anchor my soul down (soul and mind being interchangable; like Descartes meditations). Shit like tackling addiction, confronting sadness, attempting to make all the black into just anything else, are just problems I can attempt to solve. But what do I do with a fear of commitment.
The external consequences of my commitment issues aren’t what affect me per se. It brings me a bit of comfort knowing people I’ve shared a past with but lost due to my fear of commitment are doing well, that they are happy. That’s why I don’t keep in touch with certain people, not because I can’t but because I would bring about an obstacle in their happiness, and I don’t want that. So I always find myself alone at this keyboard talking to the one person that listens, also narrating confusion just to find my fallacy, just to cure myself.
I really do want everyone to be happy, inlcuding myself. Red is just a constant reminder of an email that should’ve been my first admission of innate uncertainty.
A Sane Undertaking 