How Can We Spiral Out Of Control?
For the longest time I remember, I’ve always had control over my weekends. I would cling on fiercely to the ritual of my morning coffee, to my readings, to my exercise, to many of the things I would pout my heart out and call it mine. Like tiny Lego blocks that appear to be insignificant on its own, my activities seem to feel the same way; very much replaceable. But no one truly understands the customary sequencing of activities that we’ve cherry-picked with care and concern. Our cherished habits act as a kind of incantation against the frightening slate of time and energy hijacked away from us. Sure, you may interrupt a session or two, we know how to find our flow back. But if you were to block out a majority of the time we often spend with ourselves, we become acutely uncomfortable with formlessness.
We are deprived of our reliable weekend cycle.
Even though we can all agree that stability exists mostly in the mind, we can also come to terms that it takes a toll on our body. I would go as far as to say that it is one of the commonest civilization afflictions, the equivalent of the cold. We like to be invited, but we very much would not like our schedule to be disrupted. When we lose our sense of structure or certitude, we begin to lose a part of ourselves. It is like looking straight into the sun. We can try to have tiny glimpses of the sun, but the burn gets too intense when it comes into full vision.
When we impose our ideal disruption of habit and familiarity on ourselves, it feels like a vacation. We start to be more alert and aware of the world. We come to life, even if it is something as trivial as picking our favourite cup to drink water from. When the disruption is inflicted upon us, be it by circumstance or our incompetence, it feels like a purgative trial. We start to feel as though we’re being thrown off a little. It is similar to the difference between riding a rollercoaster and falling off a cliff.
One makes you feel that you’re in control, and the other makes you feel that you’re out of it.
Intellectually, we all know that some semblance of structure, not the ones that are stifling our growth, but the ones that we’ve personalized and know it is working in our favour, is more perfect. It is certainly not the case that it is perfect. Chances are, it can be improved in some way, shape or form. But, it is definitely more perfect than someone or something seizing the control away. Hindsight is 20/20, the absence of structure taught me more directly than the presence of it. I firmly, hopefully, fully understand my weekends now. If anything or anyone were to come between us and our weekends, it should be like a landmine hopscotch for them. Get it wrong? Semi-colon, end parentheses.
Get it right? We’ll be on our way for some late night dimsum or prata.
I require boringly regular habits. I require a sense of belonging to myself. I require a structure I knowingly chosen and am lucky to, in some perspective, suffer from it. Maybe it is just me. Maybe I don’t want to contemplate the alternatives on the weekends, the same way we often stay in a job we scoff at, a place that we seemingly can’t wait to get out of (but still is in), an unhealthy relationship we ironically encourage our friends to leave (but we’re still in it too). I require weekends that I can proudly call mine.
