Unraveling Layers of Being

The Fire Within

For a long time, I have been someone who does. At the University of Southern California, I was simultaneously juggling a bachelor’s and master’s in engineering, working as a teaching assistant, and deeply involved in extracurriculars. I lived by my calendar, filling every hour with something productive – my schedule had become a rulebook to follow. It gave me discipline, but not necessarily peace.

Control gave me structure, but it also gave me restlessness. Whenever I tried to slow down, it felt wrong. There was an uneasiness that crept in. A discomfort I did not know how to sit with. So I filled the space with studying, taking more responsibilities, or planning something with friends. Anything to avoid the strange, restless feeling of doing nothing.

At first, it felt like in control. Like I was choosing to be disciplined, efficient, and productive. But over time, I realized I was not in control at all. I could not stop. Stillness became uncomfortable, then impossible.

And when I moved to New York City, that pattern only intensified. A city that thrives on movement, I planned ahead so I would never have to wonder, What am I doing this weekend? I threw myself into everything. I joined different organizations, attended panels with discussions that stimulated my brain, networking events, played pickleball, ran regularly, and made new friends every week. Some weeks, I had dinners three or four nights in a row, constantly meeting people and expanding my circle.

At first, I thrived. I am a social person – I love being around people, learning from their experiences and making new connections. New York gave me endless opportunities to do that. It felt exciting, fulfilling, alive. But I also need time for myself, and that is where I struggle.

I have always been someone who goes all in. When I like something, I really like it. I push through it, maximize every opportunity, and fully immerse myself. But that kind of intensity is like fire: powerful, energizing, but also unpredictable. If you do not keep it under control, it can consume you.

By then end of the year, I could feel myself burning out. I felt the fire consuming me. What once felt like flow started feeling like obligation. I wasn’t just enjoying my social life. I was keeping up with it. And that is when I realized that fire also needs space to breathe.

Why Control Feels Safer Than Letting Go

If I look deeper, I see that this need for control – the need to be always doing – stems from my past. Adapting so much throughout life meant I was constantly adapting to new environments, new people, new challenges. In those moments, I learned to rely on external stability rather than internal stability. If I could control my environment, I would not have to sit with the uncertainty, the discomfort, the fear of being alone.

It worked for a while until socializing stopped feeling like flow and started feeling like an obligation. I realized that no amount of external structure could give me the security I was looking for. That safety had to come from within.

The Problem with Over-Planning

One of the biggest realizations I had is how my need for control kept me stuck in the future. I used to plan my workouts and socializing days, even weeks in advance. It felt like I was being proactive, but in reality, it meant that my present moments were often dictated by past decisions.

If I made plans a week ago, I had to follow through, even if, in the moment, I wanted something different. Even if I was exhausted. Even if I would have preferred a quiet night in. My calendar had already decided for me.

By planning ahead, I created a false sense of control, as if mapping out my future would make it predictable and safe. It made the unknown feel less scary because I wasn’t leaving space for uncertainty. But the more I relied on planning, the less I trusted myself to handle what I wasn’t planning.

True security doesn’t come from controlling every outcome – it comes from knowing that no matter what happens, I will figure it out. When I trust myself, uncertainty stops feeling like something to avoid and starts feeling like something to embrace – something exciting and full of possibilities.

Balance is not a destination

I used to think that balance was something achieved; something I could master once and for all. But I have come to realize it is not a finish line. Just because I feel balanced today does not mean I will feel balanced a week from now.

Life moves. Circumstances change. That is one of the most beautiful things about life. And that is why it is so important to pause and reassess. Reflection is not just about looking back. It is about checking in with yourself, noticing what is working and what is not, and adjusting accordingly.

Sometimes I do need structure. Sometimes I need to let it go. The key is not to cling to one or the other, but to continuously listen to what I actually need in the moment. And this requires presence.

Letting Go as an Experiment

So now, I am experimenting with surrender. Instead of forcing plans, I am trusting that the right opportunities will come. Instead of relying on movement to feel safe, I am learning to sit with stillness. It is uncomfortable, but I can already see that life keeps flowing whether I try to control it or not.

Surrendering does not mean I am suddenly going to do half-hearted work; surrendering does not mean doing less, caring less, or settling for mediocrity. It is the opposite. Surrendering is about being fully present, and when I am truly present, I can give my best effort to whatever is in front of me.

The best work comes from a place of clarity, focus, and flow. Flow happens when we stop gripping so tightly and trust ourselves enough to handle each moment as it comes. Letting go isn’t about doing less; it is about being more present. When I am more present, I do better work, have more meaningful interactions, and feel more at peace.

And maybe, the less I control, the more open I am to receiving exactly what I need.