On Vulnerability and Balance – Unwarranted Advice
I never could get into yoga. My calves are so tight that I can hardly keep my heels on the ground. If I ever do any standing exercise, odds are I’m balancing on just my tiptoes. Meaning my entire “foundation” is shaky. As I mentioned in my last blog, I’ve been working out more. Partly because I enjoy it and partly so I don’t die of heart disease in my thirties.
Getting back into exercising reminded me of how most of a workout is mental, it also reminded me of how high the arches in my feet are, and how my right big toe always hurts when I run and its hot out. A few months back, I stole a revelation from the author John Green. He stated that for a long time he felt like his body and his mind were two separate entities that were at war with one another, but eventually he came to realize that they’re just simply two parts of the same system.
While I agreed with his sentiments, the revelation never really mattered to me until recently. You see, I rarely get nervous before things like tests or interviews. When I’m put on the spot to give a speech, sure sometimes I get a little shaky, but I can normally beat the feeling back, especially if I’m talking to strangers. But last night I got extremely nervous for no reason. I was talking to a friend of mine about my own feelings and emotions and I honestly froze. It was a strange sensation. Those of you who know me well know that I can fill dead air for hours with mindless dribble about my emotions/opinions or silly jokes, but I was completely stunned. The blue light from my computer baked into my glasses and I sat there for what felt like an hour shaking and sweating. When I finally came to, hardly even a minute had passed.
The stuff we were talking about wasn’t anything new. But it felt fresh and scary. I was feeling out of my head, and so I asked him to “please explain to me why I’m suddenly nervous.” And he was just as clueless as I was. Of course, my question was redundant. So we moved on.
Bodies are weird. I spent the rest of the night sitting on the precipice of that emotion. I was teetering between fine and needlessly nervous, and I knew at any minute that feeling could hit me again. And by now I was alone. My insomnia keeps me up most nights, so I had ample time to analyze (and overthink) what happened. What I came to realize is that I was raw. I was emotionally vulnerable in a way I didn’t mean to be, not to my friend, but to myself.
Vulnerability is something I mentioned briefly before. I stated its something I learned to be in college and that it helps inform me as a writer. I’ll defend that till I die, but last night my open wound mentality hurt a lot more than it helped. In fact, I’m still reeling from the fact that I was unable to control my body or my mind.
Sitting there at 3am, I thought about that John Green quote. It took me back to my inability to have a foundation while doing yoga in my high school’s dance room. It reminded me of my never-ending quest for balance.
I think in metaphors a lot. Which means you best prepare for things to get heavy handed. The center of gravity in any given object is an infinitesimally small point. Placing a foundation at the center of gravity is the most efficient way to balance an object. The center of gravity is an easy equation if you know an object’s density is uniform. A piece of paper, for example, cut into a perfect circle will have a center of gravity at its exact “center.” The same goes for a square or a rectangle. The mind, however, doesn’t have uniform density. Everything has different qualities and weight. Furthering this, no two minds share the same (metaphorical) particle makeup, meaning no two people have the same mental center of gravity. Meaning no two people can find balance in the same way.
That being said, there are different categories that foundations can be built from. Some people derive peace from order. If their room is clean, that’s a point to balance on. Throw some dirt on their floor, and it’ll push their balance out of whack, and they’ll need to find a nearby wall for support or deal with their own inadequacies until they can fix it. Some people find balance in the chaos of things. If they can’t predict what’s going to happen, they can relax knowing it’s all out of their control. Put them in a routine and it’ll be like watching someone on stilts try to escape a straitjacket.
Me? I don’t know where I find balance. I know that when I’m out of balance, I need to express myself. Whether that be through writing, drawing, or talking, if I can demonstrate what’s on my mind I feel at ease. But that’s not proactive, it’s reactive. Meaning I’m not sure I even have a foundation. Slowly, I've even been coming to rely on exercise to keep myself steady as well. Hence the whole "mind-body collusion" thing I mentioned earlier.
If you read these blogs regularly, you might think I’m some tormented soul, but I’m really not. I’m just interested in introspection and this is a medium for it. I’m sure if I left some of this unsaid my life would be easier, but I’m not saying it’s that hard to begin with. But enough with the comparative tragedy, it’s time for today’s lesson.
It turns out those ancient Greeks knew a thing or two. Aristotle put time into writing about the Virtues for a reason. You can be too vulnerable, too giving, too prudent. You can be too energetic, too available, too calm, and too bookish. Going over or under on any virtue is likely to lead to problems, like the ones I faced last night. And I’m sure I’ll make the same mistake again in the future. But it’s up to me, and those who want to help, to find my own mental homeopathy.
Generally, if my blogs end on a sour note, it’s because I’m still working through the problem myself. Or maybe I just don’t know how to fix it yet. The worst part is, I’m not looking for advice or trying to treat it. It’s just something I’m now cognizant of, and I’ll be sure to be vigil if it becomes a recurring problem.
Until Wednesday, that’s the story. Thanks for reading.
