Out of Phase and Standing Still in Their Flow

I have had a lot on my mind lately, which means there is plenty to write about. A mind full of thoughts is like a bag of gold for creativity, full of potential waiting to be shaped into something meaningful. But it all depends on whether we are ready to mine it, to confront what is inside.

Change has been at the forefront of my thoughts lately, a topic that stirs up emotions I never realized I was carrying. It is bitter, messy, and unsettling, like a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

I have explored change before, through the music I made years ago, in what felt like another lifetime. Back then, my thoughts on change were steeped in melancholy, tied to lessons I had to learn the hard way: failure, loss, and the weight of self-acceptance. I understand now that change is inevitable, woven into the fabric of life itself. Every passing second pulls us further away from who we used to be. Older, perhaps wiser, but always evolving.

I am currently at home with my family for the weekend, a place I have not stepped into with other breathing humans in over a month. That means a lot. I have not truly been home in so long that I find myself fearing the changes it might bring to my carefully built daily life. I am lucky to still be close to my family, to have a loving and caring household. But with that blessing comes the inevitable chaos, the endless screaming and bickering over things like the correct way to arrange their ever growing collection of plants.

Yes, they are obsessed with plants. And yes, it is a daily storm of opinions and drama.

This wildly different environment from the controlled stability of my room in the shared house I live in with friends sets off warning signals in my brain. It is as if my prefrontal cortex is flashing red alerts, warning me that this shift in atmosphere could derail my efforts. I have worked hard to train my body and mind to stick to a schedule that suits my work and future goals, and now I fear it could all crumble in the face of this unpredictable energy.

You see, the species of humans in this house are night owls. Highly active, highly noisy, and most alive in the dead of night. Thankfully, I had the foresight to pack my earplugs. At least I do not have to hear the deafening echoes of TikTok live videos blasting from the next room as I try to sleep.

This is exactly what change does. It throws you off balance. It dismantles everything you thought you knew about your life and makes what was once familiar feel completely foreign. I used to be a night owl, just like my family. I would sleep late and wake up early, relying on 12 alarms set across my watch, phone, and even my iPad to drag myself out of bed. I was that relentless and, admittedly, that chaotic.

But that was normal back then. It was my daily life, and it worked until it did not. Eventually, I decided it was time to change, to build a life where I could feel rested amidst the chaos. As I entered my fifth year of medical school, I came to a realization that shook me to my core. Next year, I will be a full fledged doctor. Whether I like it or not, the prefix Dr will precede my name, and with it will come immense responsibility. From that moment onward, I will be fully accountable for every right and wrong decision I make, both for myself and for others.

And that terrifies me.

That is why I began my journey to improve my life for the better, to take control of the reins rather than leaving my life to chance. I wanted to make more mindful and deliberate decisions instead of merely patching things up afterward. This journey, however, demands a great deal of self-acceptance.

Self-acceptance, as I touched on earlier, comes in waves. It takes time to accept that you have become stagnant, that you are no longer in your prime, and that you feel lost in the war you wage against the relentless force of time itself. It takes time to truly accept that some of your dreams, dreams of being someone or something entirely different, have been sacrificed because you could not fully control the life you have now.

It takes time to embrace the duality within yourself. And even more time to move forward from it.

And after all that effort, you encounter one of the greatest challenges in your life: being out of phase with the people around you. Even as a loner, I have family, a partner, and friends. I have responsibilities within a community. I cannot simply run away from the social dynamics of my life. To add to this, my future job as a doctor will be rooted in serving the community. It feels like an inescapable thread that ties me to others, no matter how much I value my personal goals.

Being out of phase with others is not just about saying no or missing out on plans. It is the sensation of watching the world move in rhythms I cannot seem to match. Even when I walk beside someone or join a conversation, there is this persistent sense of distance, as if I am speaking a different language in a room full of fluent speakers. The connection is there on the surface, but deep inside, there is a pit I cannot fill.

This feeling is not new. It has been with me for decades, long before I decided to forge my own path. Maybe it is because I am an only child. Growing up without siblings taught me how to be comfortable with solitude, but perhaps it also planted the seeds of this quiet detachment. Or maybe this is simply who I am, someone wired to thrive in my own space, even if it means watching the world from the sidelines.

I know this is my choice. I have deliberately walked this path of self-improvement, of creating a life that aligns with my goals and ideals. But that knowledge does not stop the ache. It is strange, is it not? To choose something wholeheartedly, yet feel the weight of what it costs. It makes me wonder if the hole in my heart has always been there, no matter what I do, and no matter how many people surround me.

This very dynamic is what makes the right choices so difficult. How many times can one say no to a dinner invitation at 9 PM without feeling guilt or consequences? And what about group studies? Nighttime is the only free window most people have, yet I want to hold fast to my ideal of sleeping by 9 PM. It feels like my personal aspirations are at odds with the natural rhythms of those around me.

And then there are times when the people closest to me genuinely need my help. These moments often require sacrificing my carefully structured schedule, staying up late and waking up early to meet their needs. Should I simply leave them to fend for themselves? The thought gnaws at me, forces me to reflect deeply. What if all my effort to pursue a better life is not worth the alienation it brings?

But then again, maybe the answer lies somewhere in between. Perhaps it is not about choosing one over the other, but finding a way to honor both my personal growth and my connection to the people around me. Even if I do not have the answer yet, I know I have to keep searching for it.

Change is never easy, and neither is being out of phase with the world around me. It throws me into moments of doubt, challenges the choices I have made for myself, and exposes the gaps in my heart. But perhaps that is the essence of life, to learn to carry the weight of these contradictions without letting them define us.

I do not have all the answers, but I am beginning to understand that it is not about eliminating the struggle. It is about finding meaning within it. To move forward, I must learn to honor the push and pull between who I am and who I need to be for others.

If change is inevitable, then perhaps being out of phase is simply part of the rhythm of life. And maybe, just maybe, it is in these moments of dissonance that I will learn how to truly grow.