Serendipity

I believe that as human beings, we possess an innate desire to maintain control over our lives. Losing control feels like surrender—relinquishing our autonomy to someone else and hoping for the best. Yet with surrender comes an unsettling truth: we must trust those to whom we hand over that control, even when it feels difficult or uncomfortable. This is one of life’s greatest paradoxes: as we navigate the unknown, do we surrender to uncertainty or take responsibility and push forward?

Now, at the age of 31, soon turning 32, I see how surrender and responsibility are intricately intertwined. If we surrender, we relinquish control. But if we push forward with responsibility, do we risk suffocating those we care about? It is in this fine line between surrender and responsibility that we discover the delicate balance of trust.

Trust—a concept so many seek yet often find entangled with pain. It becomes life’s greatest teacher, unwillingly revealing what lies beneath surrender and responsibility.

Through pain, I learned what happens when surrender and responsibility are imbalanced. I surrendered my life to desperation and temptation and, in doing so, I was blessed with things I never thought possible—riches and material objects I never imagined having. Every day, I woke up knowing I wouldn’t starve and would never have to worry again. But with that security came the deterioration of my true self. I no longer understood who I was or what I wanted. By surrendering to my desires and temptations, I had also surrendered to my ego. This led to great loss.

Out of this loss, responsibility found me. My ego was bruised, and I gave up surrendering, choosing instead to take responsibility. And for a while, it worked. My relationships improved, and my life made a complete 180. But soon, I realized that my sense of responsibility was suffocating the people I loved. They felt trapped, unable to breathe around me. And just like before, I lost everything.

I was given another chance to make things right, and with this opportunity, I had to quickly find the line between surrendering and responsibility. It was a process, and communication was key. I needed to let the people I love know that I was trying, and I asked for their patience as I figured it out. In time, I learned to surrender to my love for them, and that’s where trust came in. I would be there for them when they needed me—that was my responsibility. But I also had to trust that whatever choices they made were in their best interest.

From these experiences, I’ve come to understand that we cannot have total control in this life, but we also cannot surrender to the unknown entirely. We must trust in our love, and in that trust, we find the delicate balance between surrender and responsibility. Life is full of paradoxes like this—some of us will learn through great loss, while others may struggle to find this balance. What we can do for each other is share our experiences so that others may learn without so much pain.

This post is dedicated to my sister-in-law, a beautiful young woman who taught me so much about life. Where surrendering led me to isolation, she, alongside my wife, gave me a sense of wholeness. She showed me that even after losing my way, there was still room for trust, love, and healing. Where responsibility had driven us apart, she gave me the chance to reconnect and understand the importance of balance. Her presence in my life was a gift, reminding me that it’s okay to surrender sometimes, as long as love and trust guide us. I continue to open myself up to learning about life because of people like her.