The Tension of Commitment
I’m an all in or all out kind of guy. When I care, I care deeply. I invest into what I care about with time, energy, mind and heart. I pour myself into the project, the person or the group. Some of this comes from the way I’m wired and some of it is driven by shadows. In terms of cognitive functions, I lead with introverted intuition then extroverted feeling; after that, it’s introverted thinking which in my case is well developed. The combination of strong emotional connections, awareness and absorption of what others are feeling, the desire for meaning and purpose, personal values that transcend external messaging, and a constant state of reflection of past, present and future means that casual or surface-level exchanges will never be balanced. I’m in two men’s groups; one is GBTQ and the other is mixed. I show up to give and to receive, and for me there should always be a balance in the exchange. Always giving leads to emotional exhaustion and burnout and always taking is a usury; neither are good for the body or the soul.
The deep caring though beautiful carries a price. It requires constant energy and attention. For example, in my primary men’s group, I go every week; in May, I had my anniversary, and I had not missed a single circle. Part of me never leaves the circle—part of me is always there processing my work, the work of others, what was said, what wasn’t said, what might be said next week, where things are going, possible risks, the emotional energy, the group dynamics, how did it feel and how did it appear? I talked about it one time, and I was dismissed like everyone does that-- we humans, alas, struggle to understand the experience of others. Wherever I am, I am always in certain places, my mind is always carving out processing space, and my regular men’s circle is one of them. Groups are by nature complex. Extroverts are usually more at easy making their voice heard. Some people have charisma and confidence while others peek through their chosen personas. Certain people connect while others trigger or act as a mirror in some way that creates distance (or for the brave, closeness). Some want to create hierarchy and order while others are more comfortable with collaboration and fluidity.
In short, the way a group manifests will often not fit all the needs of its members. At what point does one say, then doesn’t work for me, and move on? For me, it feels like a tricky question because the level of energy I’m pouring out is often invisible to most. I almost always leave a circle with elevated blood pressure. Around 80% of the time, I have trouble sleeping. When I feel that the group is not working for me in some way, I tend to be quiet, to withdraw, to guard my energy. When a boundary has been violated, I usually speak up though not until I’ve reflected over the situation for days and sometimes weeks. One of the most important boundaries is that I must be able to show my real thoughts and feelings without that being turned against me in some way. It feels obvious—who doesn’t have that kind of boundary? But with the deep caring comes deep feeling, and when my emotions are dismissed or disrespected or worse mocked then the deep feeling and thinking churns to withdraw to safer territory. To the extent no one notices, that only confirms the wisdom of the withdrawal.
I do hold different truths at the same time. I can give another understanding on their shadows, their feelings, their need for safety…I can connect to differing perspectives. But when certain lines are crossed, the relationship is no longer compatible. What then? My standard response is the quiet retreat. I will show up but less often and when I’m there my heart is guarded and my words are carefully edited for self-protection. I am there but I am no longer all-in. Not all relationships are meant to last forever. I have a situation where a core boundary was crossed, and I’ve decided to talk about it. The result may be messy, but it will be authentic. I will have my voice, and I will either give distance or I will step closer, but it will not be done in a storm of silence.
