An Invitation to Commit (to Yourself)

How will you RSVP?

I hate commitment.

Even for things I actually want to do.

It makes my chest tighten. My breath becomes shallow. My mind races.

When I make plans - even the ones I’m excited about - there’s a part of me that resists:

what if I change my mind?

What if I don’t feel like it later?

What if I make the wrong choice?

It can feel like I’m being backed into a corner. But it’s just brunch.

It’s part of why I’m always late.

It’s a little rebellion. A way to take my power back.

It’s rude, I know. People hate it. I hate it too. They feel like I don’t care about their time - and I get that. But that’s not what it is.

For me, making plans feels like I’m giving my time away. Even if I want to give it, part of me feels resentful. Like someone is trying to control me. And that feels unsafe.

Being late makes me feel like I am able to regain control.

It’s my relationship with my parents, bleeding over into other aspects of my life.

Most of my life, I was told who to be, how to act, what schools I could go to, what types of jobs to do, how to style my hair, what kind of person to date – even how to respond to emails or texts.

Hyper controlled. Micromanaged. Surveilled.

Until recently, I still made decisions based on what I thought my parents would approve of.

So I was always late. To school. To work. To dinner. My standard? 10-15 minutes late.

(Not) Actual footage of me trying to catch the train | Photo by Braden Collum on Unsplash

It’s annoying to me too. But that rush of adrenaline - that scramble - it pulls me out of myself. Out of my feelings. Out of the why. It distracts me.

Instead of feeling and facing the anger I feel at my parents for how I was raised - processing it then letting it go – I get angry at the train for being so timely. I get angry at my friends too – “don’t you know me by now?”.

I never said it was logical. But it is familiar.

Obviously, I’m not mad at them; I’m replaying a dynamic. But it’s exhausting. And I am le tired of it.

What about you reader friends? Do you have a bad habit you can’t seem to shake despite putting your best foot forward? Is it possible you’re just replaying a dynamic too? How would your life change if you faced it?

Not an LBD but a BLD

Then, there’s the other type of commitment: Big Life Decisions (BLDs).

They terrify me. Why?

Because I have to make a choice.

And choosing means risking. And what if I’m wrong? As my mother always says to me, “don’t fuck it up”. How sweet.

You see, I learned to approach life in black in white: right or wrong, success or failure. There is no in between.

That framework leaves no room for learning, change, or evolution. Only scarcity and fear. anxiety. The pressure to get it right the first time.

There is no trust.

It’s part of why I stayed in jobs I hated for so long and in relationships that weren’t working.

I felt I had to exhaust every angle of a problem: try harder, push more, prove myself. Because I had to be right; if I’m not right then I’m wrong. And if that’s true, then I was the problem.

So I’d grip. I’d hold on for dear life to situations I knew were wrong. Looking for proof outside myself because I wasn’t sure what I wanted or, more accurately, if I could trust what I wanted. Because I’d never learned how.

Even when a small part of me said this is not the way, I was so afraid of failure I’d avoid making any decisions at all. I would say, “I’m confused” but really, I was scared.

But that life is one built from fear, not from trust.

What about you, my reader friends? Do you feel like you can trust your gut? Do you know what to do when you’re faced with a decision?

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There’s another part to this too: making choices can feel incredibly lonely. Heavy. The weight of deciding which path. Figuring out what is right then going and doing it. It’s so exhausting. Sometimes, I just want to hand it to somebody else - “you do it.”

Other times, I wish I had a partner or I could rely on my old habits and ask my parents what to do. It was so easy. But no. Sometimes yes: you can call a trusted friend and talk things out. Ask for help. But in the end, no one can tell you what to do; you’re the one who has to decide. And then trust that you’ll be ok no matter what.

My Year of BLDs

In the past year, I’ve made a lot of Big Life Decisions. I decided to stay in my job, instead of quitting and travelling. For seven months, I’d battled myself with this question - clung to this question - so I didn’t have to acknowledge my reality; because I didn’t know how long I would be in this version of reality. But wherever you go, your problems come too.

It was both a cozy and deeply uncomfortable distraction – a way to escape the fact that I was unhappy. What I really wanted were roots, a home. But I was scared of what that choice closed off. I wanted to be somewhere that nourished my soul. I wanted to figure out who I was and what I wanted by staying.

“What changed?” my friends would ask, surprised.

I did.

Once I chose to stay, things fell into place. I signed a lease in upstate New York - my mountain sanctuary, for when city life got overwhelming (which happens often). I moved out of my parents house (again) and into my own apartment in Brooklyn. I got promoted at work. I started a substack. I am happy.

I made these decisions from trust and terror.

These BLDs all terrified me. They all caused me deep anxiety, deep fear. My back went out. My cuticles were mangled. My thoughts were racing. For months. From October to February I was terrified.

But I knew the decisions were right. There was a teeny little whisper of yes that would arrive one second before anxiety would set in. With every BLD, I started to gain trust in that voice. And I learned how to cultivate safety in myself.

The thing is, we don’t make decisions fearlessly. With a BLD, if you’re not kind of scared, you’re probably not doing the thing you should be.

My cozy mountain home

So How Do You Build That Trust?

We don’t build trust all at once. We build it with small decisions. In the promises we keep to ourselves. Everytime we choose ourselves. There is no right or wrong when it comes to how to live your life; it’s not black and white. And remember to have fun!!! It’s YOUR life.

I’m sure you’re thinking: OK. But HOW, lady?

I don’t have the answers but here are some things I suggest when you’re faced with a BLD (or even a Little LD):

• Regulate your nervous system. Some methods: meditation, dancing, shaking out your body, journaling, therapy. (I use all of these.)

• Learn what it feels like when your body whispers “do this please” or “no, not that.” I ask my body and listen for its reply - I can literally feel the answer; it’s calm, not anxious.

• Follow that quiet yes, even when it’s scary.

• Move slowly - but move. Don’t stay frozen.

• And when things get too heavy, phone a friend. You’re not alone.

My friends, when you hear the answer and you don’t move, ask yourself, why am I keeping myself here? What am I getting out of it? What am I so afraid of? Is it worse than this? And remember to give yourself grace. Please be gentle.

This week, I invite you to sit with me in a Root meditation to regulate your nervous system. The Root is where stability and security lives; it’s our foundation, our safety, our connection to ourselves. When we’re connected to our Root, we experience a deeply felt sense of self worth. When I feel anxious, I connect to my Root and it brings me back to myself. I hope it brings you peace.

Root Chakra Meditation

Photo by Emma Henderson on Unsplash

Love,

Natalie