If you learn something new about yourself each week, then this week I learned I am terrified of commitment. To be fair, this is something I would readily admit and laugh off, in the hopes that it was an endearing quality.
In an effort to spare you all the gory details, I had a pretty shitty first week of Lent for several reasons. Actually, you can pretty much name a reason and it was on the list. Bad friend, bad daughter, bad employee, bad Orthodox Christian. I may be a little over-dramatizing some of the above, but when they all hit at once it is hard to differentiate between them. And for at least half of them, I was being kind of bratty.
So I took my bratty self to confession, where I tried to make coherent sense of my discouragement for a very patient priest. After talking for a while he said, “It sounds like you are afraid of commitment.” This I knew, but he went on. “Because you don’t want to make yourself vulnerable. I don’t know what happened to you, if people were mean to you when you were young, but you have to move past that. By not committing, you are missing out on all these relationships, some even with your own family. It’s your family. You need to commit.” He went on to say that I have already committed myself to Christ through my baptism and chrismation. I hadn’t thought of that before, and somehow it makes it easier to handle. Less stressful, in a way.
I know why I am this way. Flashback to college when I was dating a young man I believed would treat me with respect. Instead he pushed me beyond my comfort level physically, slowly at first. Eventually he lost patience when I said no and started to scream at me. “You DISGUST me!” he cried, shaking his fist. “You DISGUST me! I can’t even stand to LOOK at you!” With that, he stormed out the room, slamming the door behind him. I was alone - sobbing in a crumpled heap on the bed.
I am afraid to say no. That if by saying no I will be loved less; discarded and forgotten by someone I thought loved me. Therefore, by not confirming one way or another I have allowed myself a cushion - a cushion where I don’t have to risk saying no, but also prevents me from strengthening my relationships.
So I strive to commit. “Are you coming tonight?” my friend asked the next day. We had planned this earlier in the week, but I had only given a tentative yes. “Yes. I am coming,” I responded, as I felt a wave a nausea overcome me. The next day I emailed my mother, telling her I would be attending Easter with the family and what time to expect me. This time, shortness of breath.
Later in the week, I told my friend of my commitment struggles. “That kind of makes you a guy,” he laughed, “But don’t worry, you are still young.” I hope so. Be patient with me, dear friends. I am trying.