Balance is fleeting

While listening to my mother-in-law one day, she dropped a serious truth bomb that came at the very best time.  She was talking about a young woman she's mentoring and about a conversation point they'd been focusing on.  Balance.

I don't think I'd known of the concept of life balance growing up.  My life was pretty well planned out, after all.  Wake up at 7:30, ride to school, classes all day, violin practice or volleyball practice, go home, dinner, piano practice, then read until bedtime.  It may have been a busy childhood, but I don't remember it ever feeling that way.  I remember things starting to feel hectic and out of control once I reached college and my schedule was completely in my own hands.  Between student government, volleyball, and class obligations, there was a boyfriend and friends to hang out with.  Before long, research papers were being completed the night before they were due, bedtime became a nebulous concept, my planner became invaluable, and stress was constant.

I think I crave balance so much because I know how hard the low times can be.  There's no time for what I really want, maybe even what I really need.  Dinners aren't homemade anymore.  Relaxing looks more like scrolling through Instagram.  Sleeping in becomes the ultimate luxury instead of long walks in the woods, brunch with friends, or flowers from the market.

The truth bomb from my mother-in-law was this:  Balance is fleeting, and as unpleasant (and unhealthy) a lack of balance can be, it's not something to be idolized or chased.  Heck, with the chasing comes even more stress!  There will always be an ebb and flow of chaos and tranquility, and when we look back on all our years, we'll see that the mountains and valleys would have come our way no matter how hard we tried to strive against the inevitable.

At the moment, I am in between jobs.  This year I've had more stress, depression, heartbreak, and numbness than any other year before.  When I first started writing this post, however, it was the early in 2016.  I'd like to leave you with  one of the paragraphs I'd written then:

I am currently in a fairly peaceful season.  I've been working part-time for a month and a half.  I've been enjoying staying at home with my dog most days, listening to music out loud, and catching up on reading.  It doesn't seem fair for me to be telling people to relax, but trust me when I say I've been there and when I say that balance is something that should be held with an open hand.

I know that something new will come soon that will require me to adjust.  My schedule will get fuller, and my life margins will get smaller.  Once more I'll have to shift all the pieces of my life again to make everything fit on the calendar.  I know now that prizing balance so highly could force me to compromise and miss out on valuable experiences, lessons, or opportunities to share with others.  As hard as it is, we have to make sure that we're able to roll with the punches.  The hair-pulling alternative never helped anyone, I promise.

When you live with BIG emotions

I don't know why I haven't written about it yet, but as a rule, my emotions are strong and many.  I've been described as tenderhearted and as sincere by folks who just met me.  My joy has been rambunctious and contagious (causing embarrassment for others at least once).  My compassion has stopped me in my tracks and kept me from eating.  Along with great feelings comes great heartache and despair.  When I have dark days, they're really dark.  More than once, I've been frustrated with God, at the end of my rope, and incessantly questioning Him about why I'm like this.

My husband is on the opposite end of the spectrum, by the way.  His story and experiences bred mistrust toward emotions in general, which translated to incredulity, frustration, and sometimes fear when I would come to him upset.  Needless to say, we had a hefty share of misunderstandings, hurtful words, and harmful actions between us.

For a few years now, I've gone to counseling, not because big emotions are bad or something to be fixed, but because I needed help handling them.  The process took me to a strange place of trying to place boundaries.  The boundaries helped me separate my emotions from reality and refrain from demanding my husband match my feelings when something was wrong.  The boundaries helped me stand up for myself, too, and kept me from ignoring my feelings and allowing them to be invalidated by others.

Talking out and winnowing down my thoughts into Facts and Feelings columns has helped me see where I might be giving into emotions when I don't have to.  Counseling gave me breathing room and a safe space to lay out and think about all the pieces of a situation instead of having to leap to my own defense against someone with a different perspective.  Both counseling and meditation have given me the tools to recognize and regulate my emotions, which means they overwhelm me less, and as cheesy as it sounds, the workbook Don't Let Emotions Run Your Life has also been really helpful.

For the religious among you who believe humans are created images of God, you'll appreciate how each of us reflect His character in a unique way.  I've found some relief in that belief: "If I hurt this much over the evil in this world, surely God hurts even more.  If I experience such happiness over good things, surely God is even happier."  Understand I'm not comparing myself to the divine, but normalizing my experiences.  Essentially, this is how I'm supposed to be.  Gaining a better grasp on my emotions so they don't blindside me so often is helpful for me and those around me, but the fact that I have such a broad and deep range of emotions is not bad or wrong and does not need to be changed.

Another thing that grounds me and brings clarity is the fact that emotions are the best means for connecting with others.  When I tell you how it hurt me when you made that comment, or when I share my elation over getting to meet a puppy, you get a sense of my experience.  This leads to understanding, and understand and communication are foundations of what relationships are, and I believe relationships will change the world.  If I can be a small part of that, then I'm all in.

So.

I feel much, and I feel it strongly.  Thank goodness I've made peace with who I am.  Double thanks for how my husband has also grown in his acceptance (dare I say, appreciation?).  Here's to emotional intelligence, to growing in understanding, and to being fully human and unafraid.

Allow yourself to be compelled.  Tenderness moves us to action.

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Further reading: Living with big emotions by Sara Tasker