I'm not good with balance, literal and otherwise. As a kid, I was the little girl in dance class who flailed then tipped over. I once ate so much fruit cocktail I broke out in hives. (Yes, I know. Not chocolate cake. Not ice cream. Fruit. Cocktail.) I read my Little House on the Prairie books one right after the other then started over again until they literally fell apart in my hands.
I was actually pretty happy doing my own thing. (Okay, maybe not so much with the hives.) So, as a younger adult, I purposely made life choices that let me do just that.
But I often found myself doubting, floundering, feeling like I had little to no emotional support or understanding. I craved balance which, in my world, gave me a sense of approval, normalcy, safety. When I achieved it, I was relieved . . . but also deeply disquieted.
See, I didn't really want balance. I spent so much energy on finding it and trying to hold onto it I had nothing left for the life I truly wanted. The more balanced I became, the less of myself I became.
"I think balance is for people
who don't know why they're here."
(Blake Crouch, Recursion)
For me, balance wasn't about stability; it was about fear. I believe balance kept me from being and doing my best. (Of course, everyone is different, and if balance helps you then go for it! You do you!)
It'll be a process, this "unbalancing" of myself. Some people, like my husband, will cheer me on, while others won't approve. (So what else is new?) I look forward to meeting myself again in my writing and in my life. I just hope I recognize her.