pain

What It’s Like to Be an Adult Woman With Severe Commitment Issues

Photo by   Joke De Wilde

Photo by Joke De Wilde

The world today is infested with boys and men with commitment issues. We are programmed to accept this as a rule, a fact, a general law of the psychology of men. Men are scared of commitment. It is a default sentence that we toss around at every road or path that we, women, trek.

But what about the women with commitment issues, we wonder, what must have been so bad, so traumatizing, in their life that they ended up that way?

Whether you were raised by a strong career-driven mother, or a strong housewife who may or may not have chosen the road they are on, there exists a single consistent spec: grow up, find a husband and build the family tree that keeps on giving. My mother engraved the idea into me that life is a continuum, that generation after generation must be produced without neglecting my own needs to thrive—she raised me to have it all. But every so often I find myself questioning this notion. Why should my version of “having it all” include lifelong commitments? Who says so?

Let me try to shine some light on what it is like to be an adult woman with severe commitment issues. Let me enlighten you with my own experience of “the traumatizing cause” of this characteristic.

To begin with, I am not traumatized. I do admit that every single one of us has been affected in life by at least one story or event that has left us shaken, changed. But my lack of need to commit to any other person is not a scar. It’s a rule, a fact. It is a general law of human psychology.

 

Darwin said it first and said it best: it is survival of the fittest.

The force pushing me away from others is in fact a result of their own behaviour. I am a very strong believer in the idea that every action has a reaction, and my “issues” are just that—a reaction.

They are a reaction to a society that cannot commit to a full length movie.

They are a reaction to a society that cannot commit to dinner plans.

They are a reaction to a society that cannot even commit to its own decisions.

They are a reaction to the belief that it is not if something happens, but rather when it happens.

My commitment issues are a reaction to the friends I’ve lost throughout my short life. The ones who have traded me in for a lover, a position, or simply for an idea.

They are a reaction to every single promise I was given, and gave, that never saw the sun.

They are a reaction to the plans that never worked out quite as they were supposed to, to the dreams that morphed into one another, and to the people who left when they were expected to stay, or stayed when they were expected to leave.

So let me rephrase this. My commitment issues are not issues, they are simply the effect of the cosmic plan in which nothing is constant.

And to that I am grateful.

I am grateful that I don’t want or need to commit to any other human, I am grateful that my mind, body and soul are wired for change. I am grateful for my knowledge that things will never be tomorrow as they are right now.

My commitment issues are my source of hope, my faith that my personal strength is by no means connected to the length of another person’s existence in my life.

My commitment awakening has indeed been triggered by one disappointment after another, but the disappointments have transcended commitment issues – they have given me power within myself.

Power to survive when loved ones leave, when they reside six feet under or even right across the street. When I’m no longer involved in the stories and experiences that makes the people I know who they are, when they are no longer involved in the stories that make me who I am.

I have survived. Survived to see friends become strangers, and family become hateful. Survived series of events that I thought would never occur.

I have survived the workings of my mind.

So I am not traumatized, or issued. I have not been pushed to a point of no return, and there is no fear crippling my bones. I have simply loved enough to know that commitment is for the immortals, and this aging body of mine will decompose one day, leaving behind those that were committed to me and those thatI should, supposedly, have been committed to.

Submitted to ArtParasites by C.