I am always reflecting on why I’ve never created a family of my own brings a mixture of curiosity and examination, not just from others, but from myself as well. Many quickly assume they know the reasons behind my choice: I’m not the “family type,” they say, or perhaps I’m too much of a player, too careless, lacking in empathy. But these assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, my hesitation stems from the exact opposite reasons.

I care deeply, perhaps too much. The weight of the responsibility involved in nurturing a family is something I fully comprehend and deeply respect. The thought of being in charge of someone else’s fate, of needing to dedicate myself fully and commit without reservation, is something I admire and yearn for. Yet, it’s this very admiration that breeds my fear. So is that fear of failure? 

What if I make a mistake? The potential consequences of my actions weigh heavily on me, knowing that it’s not just my life at risk but those of others. The fear of failing them is paralyzing. It’s not just about a family I might never have; it’s a broader concern for all families. Watching the concept of family gradually lose its meaning across generations, witnessing the bonds that once held us together weaken, shatter, and break, affects me deeply. Society is impacted, the youth are lost, and this decay of family values is something that pains me to observe. My fear grows not just for my own hypothetical family but for the broader social structure.

This introspection isn’t born out of a lack of desire for connection or a fear of commitment. Rather, it’s a manifestation of my profound empathy and understanding of what it truly means to build and sustain a family. The decision to not create a family (yet) is deeply personal, rooted in a complex mix of societal observations and personal apprehensions. My contemplation of family, and the lack thereof in my life, is a reflection of my respect for the institution and a recognition of my own fears and aspirations regarding it.

I am a natural born leader. I am here to be a captain, a general. But the real question is, are my skills required in this day and age, or are they rather fought against? The skills to serve and protect, to care, to make others flourish, to sacrifice as an act of love—for the family to stay at the center of society. Or am I a threat, and the family values as a whole are seen as a threat? In this era where individualism often overshadows collectivism, I find myself pondering if the very essence of what I value—connection, commitment, and community—is becoming obsolete, or if it’s the beacon that society, in its quest for individual achievement, yearns for yet fears to embrace.