Run, Running, Ran.

12 Feb

You always hear about commitment being mostly a part of relationships (to be fair, usually women bitching about some dude). There are always excuses for a lack of commitment and a reason for why something isn’t working out. Commitment is always the revolving door in our love lives.

I think it runs much deeper.

What is it when you are a grown adult who cannot commit…to anything?

It’s like some sort of life-long crisis that has taken ahold long before you’re 40 when shopping for your first Camero, globettrotting, and collecting designer handbags instead of a savings account becomes much more acceptable. Oftentimes, it can be a fear of commitment to a home, to a location, to a person, to a weekend away, to a date, to a dog. What is it that runs within us that can keep us from going ahead and making a decision or not? Is it some internal radar deep inside telling us “no”? (personally, this girls’ “no”/”yes” radar needs an oil change and a time-out). Is it the fact of heading into something unknown and the fear that can accompany that? Is the commitment gene something that some people are born with and others not? Or is it simply just the fact that perhaps the neither the right situation nor timing has come along?

I think alot to do with it is that when we commit to something the possibility of taking our lives into a completely different direction is imminent. The people, the places, the time spent on things can completely shape our lives. But the older I get, and the more terrified of commitment I become with the simplest things, it makes me wonder if the lack of commitment is paralyzing my life into a self-fulfilled prophecy. By not taking the risks into the unknown, am I leading myself down the exact road I didn’t want to begin with?

Personally, I can’t commit to ordering off a fast food menu without having an inner  mental meltdown, much less to commit to a job for more than a year. Is this something that I need therapy for, or are the things that are needing a commitment just a matter of  finding real passion and acceptance?

The longer I run around the world, and men, and jobs I can’t help but wonder; is it “running,” or is my safe life passing by and time is just running out?

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