“Am I bad at commitment?”

When to stay or walk away.

I'm writing this at a time when I'm getting a new tattoo, just broke up with a partner, finding deeper love with another one, and purchasing a one-way ticket to Costa Rica with only a rough plan to return.

I began writing this article a few months ago and found it ironic that I couldn't commit to finishing it. 

When I started this article, I had just finished "A Love Letter to My Community," in which I outwardly announced that I was leaving for several months to do some solo traveling.

You might also remember my intention was not to douse intimate relationships because of my departure. However, at the time of the article, I faced the harsh reality that that is precisely what I do anyway.

Knowing that I'm leaving, I avoid intimacy to make things easier to leave. Very unconsciously, I might add. 

And though I've made some pretty serious commitments recently, here we are months later, and I'm still asking the question:

"What does committing truly mean, and am I still bad at it?"

I still can't help but think I struggle with "commitment." 

What does it mean?

What does it feel like?

When is it okay to stop?

When do I need to do it more?

What does it say about me when I walk away from a commitment?

Am I afraid of it?

If I am, where does it come from?

---

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
of a certain end.

The other, the end of a
sure beginning

-Maya Angelou

---

I might think that I grew up with less-than-great examples of healthy commitment. Avoiding intimacy when there was a significant change, like a move or a death, was common in my family.

But after recent conversations with my mom about our history of unhealthy relationships, I felt proud that she left my dad when she did, despite disapproval from her mom. 

Along with being the youngest child of nine in a Catholic family, she was also the first one to have a child out of wedlock and not stay with the father. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I could see that her leaving that relationship was good for her. 

However, it can be challenging to recognize when to stay or leave.

As a kid, I developed a pattern of not anticipating depth in relationships because we moved every two years. 

By the time I made new friends, we would pack up again. The times when kids develop deep friendships during the summer, I would spend the majority of it with my dad in a different state.

It wasn't until I went on a ten-day silent meditation retreat that I realized I couldn't commit to relationships—or anything, really.

There was only one time that I've actually committed to something.

When I signed my bid to join my college sorority, I cried all day, vowing to be a member for the rest of my life.

It was the first thing I ever consciously committed to.

I had never committed to any boyfriends, career paths, projects, or places to live. 

Nothing.

To be fair, I look back at my 19/20-year-old self and laugh. Such a young age to think about big commitments when I haven't even discovered much about myself (except that I'm "bad" at commitment). 

An organization that I would only have to put in 3-4 years of work and claim to be a member of for the rest of my life was a pretty easy commitment. Though the first tattoo that I got resembled my commitment to community, what that organization gave me solidified it more.

A decade later, I look at many of my relationships and wonder if I can give the same dedication to partnerships as I did to that organization and community of sisters.

I pondered this after my last monogamous and first long-term relationship last year, thinking it was going to stand the test of time (spoiler, it didn't).

We were great together, and though it wasn't always easy to commit, we overcame challenges that helped me learn more about what it means to commit.

Our long-term goals didn't align when we reviewed them, so we ended it.

Looking back on our relationship, it seems fitting that we ended it. But because of its nature (and my worried mindset), those old thoughts seem to congregate in my mind again.

Now that I open-relate, it's also different.

Numerous misconceptions about open relationships portray them as a less committed approach that is only suitable for the honeymoon phase. Once things get challenging, it's safe to bail because there may already be other relationships established.

I used to hold this judgment back then and still notice this happens. Witnessing there were plenty of my poly friends that would move through relationships pretty quickly. 

Perhaps it was to avoid conflict or ride the "honeymoon phase" wave; witnessing it, I had little faith in polyamory.

Then, entering them and committing was easier for me because I threw myself into situations requiring a lot of communication and understanding. Conflict and hard feelings were almost expected and much easier to address.  

But how do you know when to leave?

Tips for knowing when to stay or leave:

Know what your boundaries and desires are. What are you willing to work through and tolerate, and what are you not?

What always struck me as ridiculous about Seinfeld was how all the characters would break up over trivial matters.

Many of us may not be going week to week with new people trying to find the "right" person, but we may be winging it, just like the characters in Seinfeld. 

Knowing what you want and don't want is essential, and many of us need help figuring out what we seek in relationships. 

It sounds kind of "high school," but make a list! See how deep you can get with your desires.

Suppose you want someone with a particular relating style, like someone polyamorous or monogamous. Why do you want someone who holds that value?

If you want someone who is "spiritual," what does that look like, and why?

The more we ask "why" we have our desires and boundaries around our relationships, the closer we get to better understanding our values. When we do this, we can better own these parts of ourselves and communicate it to potential partners.

We then can recognize where a trigger may be a sign to heal or leave. This leads me to my next point.

Learn to self-regulate.

This is also essential. Commitment, desires, dynamics, and feelings change over time. There are going to be moments where you don't feel connected to your partner anymore, 

One of my favorite practices I give clients is an "edge play" practice (and no, it's probably not what you think it is). I call it "dangling your toes over the edge."

Think about cliff diving on a high enough ledge to make you nervous. There are usually two types of people in this situation: the people that say "f*ck it" and jump, and the people that say "nope" and walk away. 

When faced with an uncomfortable situation, most of us let our body's impulses make the decisions. We make meaning out of the feelings, and then fight or flee.

The "dangling your toes over the edge" practice involves imagining standing over the edge of a cliff and feeling into your body what it would be like to jump. Take time to feel in and regulate the sensations. 

Then, feel what it would be like to leave. Don't make meanings of the differences; just observe and regulate.

You may not always get the answer right away, and sometimes, those intense sensations are telling you something. But the more we do this practice, the deeper we are able to tap into our intuition and not let dysregulation muddy it.

Commitment does take some work around discomfort. This is a perfect practice for knowing whether to stay or leave.

Understand that there will always be moments where you feel disconnected from your partner. All relationships have ebbs and flows.

I've said this before, but I think it's worth repeating again: You will have moments of disconnection with your partner(s). What to do during these stages is totally unique to the situation.

This is not a time to panic. I've noticed that it is usually a beautiful time to reconnect with myself. 

Perhaps there are moments of codependency, or I've lost some of my interests because we've been spending a lot of time together. It might be a time to nourish other relationships as well. Spending time away from your partner may be the trick.

It could also be a time that the "love chemicals" of new relationship energy are fading. This is a beautiful time to deepen the relationship and be more vulnerable with each other! What practices can you do to connect more?

---

Despite having tools, we may still find it difficult to know whether to stay or leave. 

Based on what I've gathered so far on my journey of commitment, including breakups, newly aligned relationships, soul tribes, tattoos, and solo traveling, I've realized that it's not about whether I'm "bad" at it or not.  It's about making conscious, embodied choices that align with my values and growth.

I constantly need to reflect on how much I've changed and ensure that what I surround myself with aligns with that. I am dedicated to following that life force energy within and not making meaning just because something feels better than something else.

Commitment means different things to different people. But it is an essential tool that, when embraced, can bring great value to our lives.