I had a conversation not too long ago with a friend who had recently put themselves in a committed relationship. Throughout the conversation, they kept repeating the same phrase, “Well, now I am in a committed relationship,” as if this was the anchor of it all. The one thing that needed to be planted down despite everything else being a little lackluster at times. Although it is not my place to say whether something is or isn’t meaningful, truly that isn’t the case here. Rather, it opened my mind to a whole new array of thoughts. Why commit? Why do we need to commit to something we know isn’t offering us the highest of what we deserve?
And I must add, this conversation was brought up in a different form with another person, in which they told me, in their own words, “The ones that lack in certain areas are the ones that end up being the best partners.” They meant this in reference to looks, but I couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback. To say that a lack of something means more of another thing makes no sense to me. And looks aside, this idea is applied to actions too. Why should anyone feel okay with less than in order to avoid having nothing at all?
Should I be content with a person who doesn’t feel me or notice me because they buy me a slice of cake when I’m sad? Or should I feel okay with someone who can touch me but can’t hear me? I simply cannot and will not accept a life where things that lack should be my norm. My standards aren’t high. I just know what I want, and if someone can be that anchor for me, believe me, I am giving tenfold in return.
It’s a common misconception that I am uncommitted. Quite on the contrary, I feel that once I find a place for myself, I will not leave. I will sink my nails deep, ensuring that my mark never fades. I think it’s even a little selfish of me to say that my devotion to a person surpasses most. I just don’t show it often enough for people to see it as real, but it’s there. Or better yet, I keep being told that I am running away from the things I should be having or needing in my life, that I am just afraid of it.
But truth be told, I do not fear commitment itself. I fear being known long enough for someone to realize the things they idealized about me or the potential they were betting on coming to fruition will never happen. That the parts of me I struggle with are not temporary issues. No amount of time will erase these parts of myself, and it’s a reality I’ve long accepted. But how can I trust someone else to understand that?
I am more scared of them staying long enough to see me clearly. A new term I learned fits this well, their proximity to me would be far too close. They would sit down and see it is not a phase, but something that persists. My uncertainty will never fade away because I know I will question whether I even want them to be in my life long enough to find the answer. I don’t trust myself to be the same person someone falls in love with. I am not even the same person I was yesterday. I do not know myself enough to allow someone else to know me. I never know which part of myself to present.
I am unnerving, and I know this to be true. I’ve always hated disappointing people, even accidentally, so I would rather take control and do it with intention. Of course, it was never to cause harm, but rather because I feel safer doing it on my own terms than having someone feel their expectations of me were left unmet.
I don’t even mean to be this way, but I seem to like myself best when uncertainty freezes me into place, misery fills my lungs, and no one’s expectations can catch up to me.
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