even rest somehow became something i need to be good at.
and i keep hearing the word balance as if everything you care about politely waits its turn.
as if work says, “you’ve given me enough attention today, go be a wife now.”
as if your ambition disappears because it’s the weekend.
as if you can split yourself perfectly across everything and somehow feel completely present in all of it.
i’m starting to think balance might just be one of those words we use because the alternative sounds less comforting:
sometimes, you’re just going to be bad at something.
the distracted friend.
the unavailable daughter.
the tired wife.
the person who leaves messages unread for three days and then feels too guilty to answer them at all.
and maybe that doesn’t mean you’re doing life wrong.
maybe it just means there’s a lot of life happening.
i also don’t think we talk enough about the fact that the more you love, the more there is to worry about.
i used to think anxiety came from things going badly.
now i know it can come from things going really, really well.
because suddenly there’s something to lose.
something to protect.
something that could change.
you finally get the thing you wanted and almost immediately start wondering how long you get to keep it.
sometimes i catch myself doing this and want to shake my own shoulders.
can you just enjoy your life?
and then another part of me quietly replies:
i am.
i just happen to be terrified of it at the same time.
maybe that’s the part we leave out when we talk about having it all.
not whether women can have it all.
i think we’ve proved that point enough!
the more interesting question might be what “all” means to each of us, and what it feels like once we’re the ones holding it.
because sometimes it feels incredible.
sometimes it feels like being deeply grateful and completely overwhelmed in the exact same moment.
sometimes it feels like wanting absolutely nothing about your life to change and also fantasizing about disappearing for a week.
and i don’t think those things cancel each other out.
i don’t want a smaller life.
and by smaller, i don’t mean quieter, simpler or less ambitious.
i just mean less of the things that matter to me.
i don’t want to care less.
i think i’m simply learning that everything i wanted eventually became something i had to maintain.
and maybe a full life was always going to feel full.
maybe that was just the part nobody thought to put on the vision board.
and maybe that’s exactly why i wanted to bring this little corner of self back.
not to give advice from some perfectly resolved place.
actually, probably the opposite.
i want this to become our little diary for the thoughts we normally edit before saying out loud.
the ambitious ones. the insecure ones. the selfish ones. the contradictory ones. the slightly embarrassing ones.
and especially the ones women are expected to think quietly and then immediately correct themselves for thinking at all.
i’ll bring mine here — about work, marriage, friendship, getting older, chest hair, bodies, money, success, jealousy, motherhood or the lack of it, identity, wanting more, wanting less, wanting to disappear, wanting to be seen, and whatever else we apparently do not admit too loudly.
so maybe this isn’t really a blog.
maybe it’s just one very long conversation we’re finally having out loud….
