Dear Past Self,
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you (and I) have a teeny-tiny problem with commitment. And by “teeny-tiny,” what I really mean is massive and overwhelming.
You may have picked up on this from the fact that your parents, friends, and romantic problems have all told you that you have problems with commitment. But most likely, you’re still trying to deny it, to make excuses. But those excuses won’t last forever: eventually, you’ll have to face the truth.
The good news is, Past Self, I know exactly how you feel. Believe it or not, I felt the same way. And it wasn’t just a problem committing in relationships, or committing to a particular job. My fear of commitment was so bad that I had trouble making every-day decisions. I could barely decide what to eat for lunch.
Now I know I’m not the only 20-something with a fear of commitment. Half the time, a group of 25 year-olds can’t even decide which show to watch on Netflix. Still, I think my fear was above the norm. I think that while most other people accepted commitment as a fact of life, I saw it as some frightening monster cutting off all my other options.
The Commitment Monster
The Commitment Monster followed me everywhere: restaurants, family gatherings, and even on dates
So when a waiter said this:
What I heard was:
And when my dad said this:
What I heard was:
And when my not-girlfriend said this:
What I heard was:
I could spend hours analyzing why you and I have problems with commitment. I’m sure family issues, body chemistry, and a hundred other factors are at play. I’m not going to talk about all of them here, because I’m pretty sure you aren’t interested in my psycho-babble.
But I will say this: we live in a generation where everything is temporary. Jobs are temporary, homes are temporary, even more than fifty-percent of marriages are temporary. Where many older generations were encouraged to follow a set path and chase stability, we were encouraged to make our own path. That freedom to make our own path is a blessing, but it’s frightening, too.
Because what if we start making our own path, and then realize it’s not what we wanted after all? What if we want to turn back, to go down a different path, only to find the Commitment Monster standing behind us, forcing us to stay on an unhappy road? I think that’s what the Commitment Monster is for me, ultimately: that feeling of uncertainty. The fear of cutting off options and opportunities.
But here’s the thing, Past Self: more options doesn’t always equal more happiness. In fact, sometimes having too many options can feel worse than only having one. And by keeping my options open—and refusing to commit—you are actively getting in the way of your own happiness.
Your relationships are less fulfilling because you won’t commit to longer plans with people. Your work is less fulfilling because you won’t focus deeply on one thing. And your lunches take too long because you spend an hour standing in front of the fridge.
Fortunately, there is hope, Past Self! I won’t pretend I’ve got this commitment thing all figured out. But by starting to commit to small things like week trip with friends, a more intense work project, or spending a weekend at your not-girlfriend’s house, you can start to make Commitment feel less like a frightening monster, and more like a friend who is helping me find the right option.
Now, if only I could figure out how to decide what to order on the menu, I’d be set.