It’s like a spectrum.
On one side, I see a family- loving, cooperative, cohabiting in peace, navigating life together the best way they can. I can feel the warm glow of companionship spilling over from my imagination into my consciousness, filling me with longing for a fantasy in my head.
I don’t like that feeling- of longing for something that never was. I call myself silly and plow into reality, barrelling down the spectrum to its other end- into the comfortable embrace of fear.
What do I fear?
I fear to trust somebody enough to get into a relationship. I fear to believe in a fellow human who is as fallible as I am. I fear to invest in a reality which can turn unpredictable and twist me ragged any second. Because nothing’s permanent, is it? Everything falls apart eventually. Everything dies. How can I depend on something as mortal as mortality?
It’s a faulty thinking process; what is called, in parlance, maladaptive thinking.
“Depending on a fellow human will make me weak. After all, I can’t speak for their thoughts or actions or motivations. The only controls in my hand are mine. So, I trust only me. It makes no logical sense to trust or depend on what I can’t control, right.”
See, that’s maladaptive thinking. And a defence mechanism called controlling.
Either I control the variable or it doesn’t exist in my bubble. But, we can’t control people, can we? It’s not right- infringing into the personal space of others. So, people- this unpredictable variable called people- has no place in my world, in my well-insulated bubble.
But, why did my morning study session devolve into this long-winded psychobabble?
Apparently, I’m supposed to get married. Apparently, this is the age for it. But, I don’t feel ready.
My father asked a very valid question: When do you think you will be ready?
I had no answer. I don’t know when I’ll be ready because I don’t know when I’ll find the middle ground between the extremes of longing and fear.
And I don’t know who I should go to for advice… So, I wrote.