Commitment

Oh, that dreaded C-word.  Commitment.  Why do I consider it, more often than not, a negative?  Commitment indicates a belief and trust in something and/or someone – hopefully starting with myself.  But I am realizing that making a commitment to myself is the hardest commitment to make.

Why?   I know enough to know that being committed to myself will only serve to help the many facets of my life.  I know enough to know that being committed to myself – being in love with myself – will lead me to fulfill my dreams; to fulfill myself.  So, why is it so hard when there would be such an obvious and good kick-back?

I know I was brought up as a people-pleaser; a people-server.  Most of my age group was brought up that way, in fact …  However, I’ve learned over the past several years that the people-pleasing mentality can be hurtful and even harmful, because it effectively removes the focus from taking care of – being committed to!  loving! - myself.  That’s not good.  And, again, I know that; I’ve learned that the hard way.  Yet I persist.

Back in August, I made a commitment to myself in front of a group of people, in a very formal and ritualistic way.  I have not lived up to that commitment.  Is that grounds for divorce from myself?  To some people it would be, because in effect I have cheated on myself time and time again with little to no regard or regret for my actions.  That’s not good.  In fact, that really sucks.

So, here I am reconsidering my self-commitment, reflecting on my lack of self-love and self-care, and asking myself, “Why?”  “Why don’t you take care of yourself?”  “Why don’t you eat better?”  “Why don’t you exercise?”  “Why don’t you do what’s best for you?”  “Why don’t you put yourself first?”  “Why are you killing yourself in small doses?”  Yeah.  Ouch.  That’s what it comes down to.  I’m slowly killing myself, even after I promised my counselor 5 years ago that I would not kill myself.  I’ve skewed that promise for my convenience, because what she meant was, “Don’t swallow a bottle of pills/slit your wrists/slam your car into a tree.” 

The truth is, I’m not engaged in my own life.  I’m not participating in it.  I’m on auto-pilot, in this bizarre limbo that has me anaesthetized.  So, what’s there to be committed to?  What’s there to care about?

And that brings me to the other burning questions:  How do I turn this around?  How do I change this behavior?  How do I start caring?  How do I really, really become – and stay - engaged in and committed to this life I have been gifted with?

I don’t know.  And it’s actually not that I don’t care, I’m discovering, it’s that I’m truly at a loss in this floundering space I’m in.  I need to snap out of it.  I need to wake up from this coma of uncertainty and fear and start living before it’s too late; before life passes me by more than it already has … more than I’ve already allowed it to.  I need to make an active commitment, take responsibility, and take action.  All in one fell swoop, do or die, because that’s where I’m at.  Do or die.  Do or die?  Do?  Die?  Do.  Do!  DO!!!