Before this turns into another post about gas I’d like to commit to talking about commitment. But first I must say that on Rachel Ray today which I left on the tv to keep me company as I got ready for work, they talked about gas and foods that cause gas that a person should stay away from like OATS, BANANAS, and WINE.
The main staples of my diet.
So let’s talk about commitment now. I have an issue committing to anything.
I never thought I would admit to that. But it’s true. I like to remain vague and slightly slippery. I hate to be boxed in. There must always be an escape back up plan, just like sitting near the door whenever I’m in a room with other people. If I ever feel the need to suddenly run for it, I can make it out before anyone even notices.
Even though I may want something and I may have already made that decision and told everyone about it, including my entire family and my work, all my friends and blog readers, I still feel like it’s not done till it’s done.
This isn’t being indecisive on my part. I knew when I emailed him and asked him why he didn’t just ask me to come back that something like this could happen if he did in fact love me as much as I thought he had at one time. And I already knew I would say yes. There’s no doubt I’d say yes to anything he would ask me.
And now what? Now I’m going to pack everything up and just leave on June 12th at 6 a.m. and head across the country. I’m going to leave my financially stable albeit ghetto-style life, and my independence from relying on anyone other than myself (well, and Abrah and my father), and my little tiny job, and I’m going to throw myself feet first into something with the hope that the rest of my life will be filled with days of blissful Nickness.
There’s no back up plan there!
And no, now that I’ve spent days thinking about my fear of committing I know that it’s not because of my poor decision making skills in the past. I make excellent decisions now. Look what I’ve done since I left Cody! I got a master’s degree. I have my own little ghetto apartment. I have picked excellent friends. I love my job.
It’s a memory of being trapped. TRAPPED. I have been working for years on the panic that comes with that memory. The residual aversion to commitment is something that I can understand and find my way through. It would be too easy to stay all nice and comfortable, in control at all times, free, and alone.
What is it that they say? In order to act bravely you first have to be afraid.
I walk into my new life afraid and hopeful. And each day I will feel a little less afraid and a little more alive.
(In rereading this to edit my horrifying grammar mistakes I have discovered that it sounds similar to post made by my forever-talking-about-change-but-never-actually-doing-it-stalker. The difference here is that I’m a person of action and of talk.)