Commitment. Locked in. Definite.
I now hate committing to things. I never used to, but ever since my mental health declined to a point where I felt unreliable… Commitment phobia.
I used to be the image of capability. That’s what people told me too. I had such a great measure of capability. I could do it all, and do it all well. Whole that was true to a point, I guess there are stages of a perfectionist that hit the zone of achieving bit as a perfectionist it is unable to be content. To keep the sustainability I needed to employ the robot. The robot was confident and capable and was able to deceive many with the external theatrics. All the while the internal was drowning.
The robot got harder to employ such pleasantness so the isolation grew to cover up my hideousness.
Hidden so no one knows. Then something comes along that causes distress over commitment. Booking in to attend something is one thing. Canceling at the last minute may be rude, but no one was counting on you heavily. Contributing something is worse.
How do you tell them why you don’t want to do something or attend a social engagement. It’s not you, it’s me…. And I’m ashamed of this