I'm A Walking Paradox
I advocate for relationships above everything else, yet I often struggle to give myself the space to find one.
I’ve learnt to live with the fact that I’m a walking paradox. I advocate for relationships above everything else, yet I often struggle to give myself the space to find one. I crave connection but constantly seek solitude. I work most of the day but quietly rebel against the toxic extremes of hustle culture. I thrive in the spotlight, yet feel deeply shy and insecure. I long to be taken seriously but find joy in being unapologetically unserious. I believe in deep thinking, yet I love nothing more than acting ridiculously silly with a close friend.
I stand for traditional values but fully support people expressing themselves in whatever way suits them—so long as it doesn’t harm others. Some might call it hypocrisy. I call it complexity. Humans are layered. We’re the fitness coach who loves a pint and pizza. The nurse who smokes. The comedian who makes people cry. We aren’t meant to fit neatly into boxes—life constantly pulls us in opposing directions. One thing I’ve learnt from studying nutrition is this: avoid rigid thinking. Food isn’t black or white, healthy or unhealthy—and neither is life.
You can hold two truths at once. Slowing down can be the thing that helps you move forward. Lifting weights is a paradox—feeling your weakest while becoming your strongest. Courage is feeling the fear and doing it anyway—whether that’s public speaking, asking someone out, or walking into a gym for the first time. Declaring yourself uneducated isn’t shameful—it’s the doorway to becoming wiser. We become wise when we admit we don’t know. Growth starts in contradiction.
So yes, I’m a walking paradox. A man with no children advocating for a pro-natalist future. A trainer who’s probably had more Sunday sessions outside the gym than in it. A man who wants the world to embrace connection while still learning how to let it in himself. When you’re growing, you’ll feel pulled between old patterns and new truths—between who you were and who you’re becoming. That’s not weakness. That’s transformation in motion. Being a paradox isn’t a flaw—it’s the evidence that you’re evolving.