Freedom From

I’m thinking I must have some kind of commitment phobia.  I get lonely, but I’m afraid that friends will take up too much of my time.  I need money, and while I’m really too sick to work yet, I’m afraid that a job will tie me to a place I don’t really want to live.  I’d like to move to Byron, but I’m afraid I’ll get tired of the place and won’t have the resources to leave.  And there’s no way I’d even consider a romantic relationship.  Would completely ruin my focus on fixing my health problems, not to mention completely tying me to Sydney. 

I guess ever since I visited Byron Bay in 2005, I’ve wanted to move there.  I’ve held it in my mind like it’s just around the corner.  Like I’ll get an invitation any day now, to go move there.  That was my reason for not really bothering with Sydney.  It’s only temporary and I never liked the place anyway, even if I did grow up here. 

Is it true though?  Am I merely phobic of commitments in Sydney, commitments that don’t fit the life plan, or am I just a plain common-or-garden commitment-phobe? 

The concept is simple.  Everything you have, everything you own, also owns you.  So a wealthy person is a tied-down person.  You could go all Hindu or Buddhist on that and say that a poor person can be more attached to their stuff than a wealthy person.  But look at it practically.  If you have a mortgage, a marriage, a job, dependant children… you really can’t just do a runner on it without doing a lot of damage – especially to others. 

I used to think it was what I wanted.  When Alexander and I were first together, I thought we’d settle down.  We’d have ordinary jobs, get married, we’d buy a house and have children.  And we did get married.  But we couldn’t find jobs, and without that there was no hope of house or children.  And then, of course, I realised that Alexander didn’t want a job, and he never wanted to settle down. 

And now?  Well, as regards marriage, I’ve been there and done that.  Bottom-rung employment?  That too.  Once again I’m waiting for my life to start.  Maybe I need to redefine what I expect.  It doesn’t look like it’s going to be your standard, settled suburban life with 2.3 kids.  (Isn’t it 1.8 now?) 

That’s just the problem, I guess.  I don’t really know where I’m heading.  Not going anywhere while I’m sick, I guess.  But sometimes I’m not sure if I’m even getting very far on that front.  Am I even moving?  Or just running frantically on the spot?