I have a phobia of elevators and of tight spaces. I’m also scared of animals and sometimes of thunder… and of being alone and the list goes on. But the one thing that makes me cage my heart behind thick metal bars is commitment. I’m even terrified of the word, like saying it out loud will bound me to some sort of spell. The word is like a curse, it’s tabooed.

I don’t want to break so I won’t join the pieces of me that are already broken. You can’t break something that’s not fixed. I’ll ignore things or avoid them, hoping they’ll get better on their own (they usually get worse). And I find myself drowning in the same ocean I was so desperately trying to escape.

In this whole process the broken pieces I’m trying to avoid, tend to prick me like thorns. I try to cover up my wounds with smiles as fake as unicorns. I will clench my teeth until they tear, but I won’t tell anyone what’s bothering me. I could be dying, but I won’t say a word. I’m wired all wrong, and I don’t know how to untangle myself.

I’m not scared of the action of commitment, more of the outcome. I guess I’m so scared of making the wrong choices that I’ve decided to not make a choice at all. I don’t want to get hurt, so I refuse to love. If I don’t love I won’t break. And if I don’t break, I’ll be strong. Easy Logic.

But no matter how hard I try, sometimes my feelings leak through me like a small crack in a dam, and I can’t hold it in anymore, and I explode and ache in all the wrong places.

To escape this cycle. I blame other people- my parents, siblings, friends, God, destiny, fate, my ancestors for not fighting off the British any sooner. Doesn’t make sense I know, but it makes sense in my mind.

The worst thing about all this is that in this whole process I tend to hurt those around me too. I break others in an attempt to heal. But in the end, all that’s left are just bruises that leave scars so deep no smiles can cover them up.

In my plea to avoid commitment I tend to avoid all the perks that come with it. Including the satisfaction of at least trying or the fruitful outcome or other open doors.

But I’m learning not to limit myself. I’m learning to let go. Learning to sew myself and create a quilt of soft memories. I’m learning to lean on commitment. To understand that bad things happen not because I’m bad, but because this is life and I am a human and humans tend to break, just as they tend to reform.

It’s hard though.

You’ll have to scratch yourself raw.

Crack yourself open, and you will cry.

You will bleed.

Ache.

But that’s how you’ll heal.

Patch up those holes, stitch your wounds, and mend your soul. You might do it wrong. You might miss a few steps. You might hurt yourself even more. But that’s how you learn. That’s how you grow. That’s how you rise.

So darling, stop over thinking.  Stop giving into “ifs” and “maybes”. Stop ruining your happiness because you’ve let your fears grow inside of you. Stop comparing yourself to other people: you have a light in you that people ache to touch. Stop listening to other voices because that voice in you has a melody no one can achieve.

Breathe. And live.