For Anyone Who’s Afraid To Commit

I’ve been putting off writing a blog for my friend, Far, for far too long. It’s time to break out of this cycle of stagnation because how can I expect to grow if I don’t take action? Admittedly, completing this blog hasn’t been easy. It’s painful to confront the reality of how many hearts I’ve inadvertently hurt along the way. To all my friends whom I’ve hurt before, I’m truly sorry.

Recently, I stumbled upon a TikTok video featuring a poem for people who grapple with the fear of abandonment. It hit me hard, especially since I’ve had many discussions on this topic with Far. One question that stood out was, “How can I overcome my incredibly low self-esteem and the overwhelming sense of worthlessness that comes from fearing abandonment?”

My story begins with a significant loss—the absence of my father, who passed away when I was merely two. Growing up with just my mom, this early loss planted a deep-seated fear of being left behind. I’ve always wondered if I was worthy of love and support, and this fear shaped much of my life.

When I was 17, a friendship breakup triggered my deep fear of abandonment as I noticed my friend drifting towards a new group. Instead of facing my insecurities, I withdrew, giving my friend the cold shoulder without explanation, believing it was a defense against rejection. But what I failed to realise was the hurt I was causing my friend—the very person who had stood by me through thick and thin, who had shared my laughter and wiped away my tears. My actions left her confused and hurt, wondering what she had done to deserve such treatment from someone she considered a close friend. I realised too late how my fear of abandonment had driven me to push away someone who mattered deeply to me.

But perhaps the most important lesson I gleaned from this experience was the value of communication and honesty in relationships. I learned that it’s okay to feel afraid, but it’s not okay to let that fear dictate my actions and hurt those I care about. I learned that true strength lies in being vulnerable—in sharing our fears and insecurities rather than hiding them behind walls.

Then came the academic rejections, which seemed to echo my fear of abandonment in a new way. It’s strange, really, how getting turned down for scholarships hurts more than any breakup. The pinnacle of this rejection came when I faced the disappointment of being turned down by numerous scholarship programs. It felt like they were rejecting not just my dreams but me as a person.

Sometimes worrying so much about the future causes me to live in another timeframe instead of being in the moment. I often find myself imagining all kinds of scenarios in the future. Occasionally, I feel like Doctor Strange, calculating the possibility of winning against Thanos. It’s just not Thanos that I’m fighting right now. Just my own head and my dreams.

In reality, I’ve come to understand that my fear of rejection extends beyond just social situations—it affects my approach to love and relationships as well. While it’s normal for most people to feel nervous in situations that could lead to rejection, for me, that fear becomes overwhelming. It’s as if I’m afraid to fully invest myself in relationships, fearing the possibility of rejection so intensely that it overshadows any potential for happiness.

So, whenever someone tells me they’re not ready for a relationship, I truly understand how some people feel unworthy of love. It’s like carrying around a heavy burden of past hurts and doubts, making it hard to believe in our own worthiness. I know that feeling of longing for connection, while also fearing rejection. But in those moments, I remind myself: We are all deserving of love, despite our imperfections. It’s about finding the strength to believe in our own value, even when it feels like the world is telling us otherwise.

During my moments of self-pity, I fell into another toxic habit: comparing myself to others. Even though I knew deep down that comparison doesn’t lead anywhere good and that happiness isn’t a competition, I struggled to follow my own advice. I became overly harsh on myself, constantly judging my attitude, personality, appearance, and academic achievements against those of everyone around me. This constant comparison left me feeling like I was never enough.

I read somewhere that when you’re really insecure, you tend to apologise a lot. I’ve noticed it in myself too. Sometimes, when things don’t go well, I apologise far too often. When people say that girls and women are too apologetic for their own good, I now get it. Even for things that are beyond our control, we apologise.

I would sometimes berate myself for not being okay; as if it were wrong to be a little bit sad at times. Like I said, I was unnecessarily hard on myself. You see, if you’re familiar with me, you’d know that I’m generally a happy person. As in, extremely happy; genuine laughter, mudah terhibur, and a happy smile. It’s part of how people see me as well.

So, when some of my friends started telling me that they could sense I was sad, even though I hadn’t talked to them in a while, I was scared. I had the impression that I was losing a part of myself when, in reality, I was just being a normal human being. A person who has the right to be happy and sad at the same time; who requires a balance of both to begin learning from her mistakes and to be more grateful for what the world brings to the table.

Despite these struggles, I’ve learned that insecurities are a part of being human. We all have moments of doubt and uncertainty, and facing my fear of abandonment has taught me that vulnerability is a form of strength, not weakness.

In the end, it’s all about finding that balance between protecting ourselves and allowing ourselves to be open to love and connection. It’s a journey worth taking, full of learning and growing, and it all starts with believing that we’re worthy of the love and happiness we seek.

— I’m re-uploading this blog post because it seems to have disappeared for some reason.