Growing up in Montgomery, Alabama, I always felt like I was straddling two different worlds. On one hand, I was a proud daughter of the South, raised on Saturday SEC football and the thick haze of azaleas blooming in the spring. On the other hand, I was the kid constantly questioning why things were the way they were, poking at the deep cracks in my hometown’s charm. Montgomery, after all, is both steeped in history and complicated by it—a place that can make you feel nostalgic and restless at the same time.

It’s no wonder, then, that I’ve always been a little obsessed with how we navigate dualities—in relationships, in our personal identities, and even professionally. It’s like dating that person who loves indie films but also unironically quotes Step Brothers. Living between two worlds can stretch you in ways you never expect, and while it sometimes feels like walking a tightrope, I’ve found that it can also teach you how to build one hell of a bridge.

The Push and Pull of Duality (AKA My Life in Metaphors)

Duality, whether cultural or personal, is like hosting a dinner party in the South: You’re trying to serve fried chicken that’s been lovingly hand-breaded while quietly hoping no one asks if you also have vegan options. To exist in two spaces is to constantly adjust—to weigh your choices while asking, “What do I gain, and what do I risk?”

In dating, duality often means asking yourself who you are with someone else versus who you are alone. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked at myself in the mirror after a date and thought, “Did I really just laugh that hard at a joke about cryptocurrency?” Duality can sneak up on you, showing you sides of yourself you didn’t even know you had—or, frankly, didn’t know you could stand.

For me, this tension also played out when I moved to Tuscaloosa for grad school. On some days, I’d feel deeply tied to the stories of my Alabama roots, wearing my Southern upbringing like a badge of honor. But on a deeper level, I wrestled with what it meant to hold reverence for a place while also knowing it hadn’t always been welcoming to everyone—including people I care about. Identity, much like any serious relationship, is complicated that way.

Practical Strategies for Balancing It All

Navigating duality is as much about self-awareness as it is about strategy. You have to know how to meet yourself in the middle (preferably over a cold glass of sweet tea). Here are a few tools I’ve learned along the way:

  1. Get Comfortable with Contradictions.
    You can be a coffee-shop intellectual who also loves binge-watching “The Bachelor.” Embrace it! Duality isn’t about picking one side over the other—it’s about honoring the fact that humans are messy and nuanced.

  2. Keep a Two-Lists Mentality.
    This trick has saved my sanity: Make one list of non-negotiables in your life and another of things you’re okay with compromising. Whether it’s in relationships or at work, mapping your boundaries helps you realize where you’re willing to flex—and where you’re not.

  3. Find Your Anchor Points.
    Duality often feels like being pulled in two directions, but remember to identify what grounds you. For me, it’s nature. Whether I’m standing under a sprawling live oak or hiking through Alabama’s state forests, being outdoors becomes my reset button. Find your version of that stability.

  4. Communicate Like It’s a Team Sport.
    In relationships, living between worlds requires a willingness to be honest about the juggling act you’re pulling off. Maybe you’re someone trying to balance family traditions with new ideas about the world. Or maybe you have a nine-to-five job but dream of pursuing a creative passion. Share that dream (or struggle!). People worth keeping around will want to know all the sides of you.

  5. Laugh When It Gets Weird.
    I’ve learned that humor can turn even the trickiest dualities into a source of connection. For instance, telling a date about the time I brought my vegan friends down to a catfish fry—and what followed—is now one of my favorite icebreakers, even though my 22-year-old self thought the experience was social agony.

Work, Relationships, and the Ultimate Balancing Act

While dating provides plenty of real-time examples of duality, work-life balance is where it gets hilariously tricky. When I started teaching at the community college, I wanted so badly to bring this passion for storytelling to my students, to share the stories of resilience I’d uncovered during my time in the archives. But the reality of lesson planning and fielding endless questions like, “Does this count for extra credit?” forced me to adapt. The romantic part of history—the grand narratives of people finding themselves in the face of adversity—was still there, but I had to meet my students where they were, too.

Similarly, in relationships, the balance requires constant adjustment. There was the boyfriend in college who thought our Sunday mornings should revolve around homemade waffles and my habit of scheduling 8 a.m. study sessions (are the priorities the same? No. Did I later regret choosing flashcards over butter-soaked carbs? Absolutely). Duality often shows us the space where compromise lives, gently reminding us not to take ourselves too seriously.

Finding Joy in the Crossroads

Ultimately, living between worlds teaches you how to stay open. When you embrace duality for the complexity it offers, you stop seeing it as a problem to fix and start seeing it as a lens to grow through. For me, it’s meant learning to laugh at myself when I call my city “historic” in one breath and “kind of haunted” in the next—and to love how true both statements are.

So, whether you’re navigating cultural expectations, sorting through personal contradictions, or simply dating someone who eats sushi and gas station boiled peanuts (I’ve been there), know this: You’re not alone. Duality is part of what makes life rich and funny and worth the mess. Learning to hold space for all your parts—flawed, fascinating, and fiercely unique—is what makes the tightrope worth walking. Or, in my case, what makes the bridge worth building.

Remember: The goal isn’t perfection. It’s progress. Enjoy the mess on your way to clarity.