Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

There’s a type of person most of us have encountered at some point in our lives, who always seemed to have one foot out the door, no matter what they were doing. Maybe they worked beside us. Maybe they were a friend, a family member, a coworker, or even a romantic partner. No matter where they showed up, they always seemed to be either not fully engaged or uncomfortable in a stable.

You know the type. They take a new job while quietly browsing openings for the next one. They join a club but never quite invest themselves in it. They enter relationships while keeping an eye on what else might be available. They volunteer, participate, contribute, and engage, but always with an invisible escape hatch nearby.

At first glance, it can look like independence. Sometimes it’s even mistaken for ambition. In certain situations, it may be both. But there’s often something else happening underneath. Commitment requires vulnerability.

To fully commit to anything, a career, a marriage, a friendship, a community organization, a creative project, or even a personal goal, means accepting uncertainty. It means risking disappointment. It means investing time, energy, emotion, and effort with no guarantee of a rewarding outcome.

For some, the risk feels unbearable. Instead, they remain halfway committed and keep their options open. They avoid becoming too attached, and if things go wrong, they weren’t “all in” from the start. Sadly, however, life rarely rewards partial investment.

A person who constantly keeps one foot out the exit often experiences only a fraction of what commitment can offer. Relationships remain shallow because trust requires consistency. Careers stall because advancement usually belongs to those willing to stay long enough to build expertise and credibility. Community involvement becomes transactional instead of meaningful because real impact takes time. I’ve seen this countless times in professional settings.

Someone joins a team and immediately starts talking about what comes next. Before they have learned the job, they are planning their departure. Before relationships can blossom at all, these types of individuals are looking for better opportunities. Before contributing anything substantial, they evaluate whether the commitment is worth their time.

All things considered, though, sometimes a change is actually necessary. Not every job deserves loyalty. Not every relationship should continue. Not every organization is healthy. Leaving can be the right decision. But there is a difference between recognizing a bad fit and living with your track shoes already laced up. One is discernment. The other is avoidance.

What fascinates me is how often people with one foot out the door believe they are protecting themselves. In reality, they may be protecting themselves from success as much as failure.

Commitment creates opportunities that are impossible with casual participation. The strongest connections are built through years of presence – showing up. The most rewarding careers are often shaped by persistence through difficult seasons. Creative accomplishments emerge from projects that survive frustration, boredom, setbacks, and self-doubt.

None of those things happens if we leave as soon as the initial excitement wears off. The older I get, the more I appreciate people who stay. I’m not referring to those who leave a bad situation or suffer abuse or dysfunction. I mean, people who stay long enough to make a difference. People who keep showing up after the novelty disappears. People who honor commitments when doing so becomes inconvenient. Those are the people who build businesses, strengthen families, sustain friendships, support communities, and create legacies.

They understand something important. Commitment is not a feeling. It is a decision repeated over and over again. Some days that decision feels easy. Other days it feels like work. Most worthwhile things eventually require us to continue long after the excitement fades.

Maybe that’s why people with one foot out the door often seem restless. They spend so much energy preparing for the next thing that they never fully experience the thing right in front of them.

Life is not lived in the exits. It happens while staying. And sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is stop looking for the door, plant both feet firmly where we are, and see what becomes possible when we finally settle in. Be present. Engage and commit.