The Unmeasured Self
I used to think life was about balance: work and rest, ambition and relationships, giving and receiving. I tried so hard to keep everything in perfect measure, like some invisible scale I could never quite get right. And yet, the more I tried, the more I realized: balance, at least the kind we imagine, is a myth.
Life is messy. Some days demand everything from work, leaving no space for rest. Other days, family, friends, or even our own thoughts insist on attention. Trying to divide ourselves evenly across all these parts feels less like harmony and more like a performance — a performance I used to feel I had to nail perfectly.
Balance Feels Different for Everyone
And it’s not just me. Men, too, carry pressures — to succeed professionally, be emotionally present, and show strength without shutting down. Women often juggle careers, relationships, care work, and the quiet expectation to be endlessly accommodating. I’ve noticed that, no matter who you are, the myth of balance can make you feel like you’re always falling short.
Some mornings, I’m rushing to finish tasks; some evenings, I’m guilt-tripping myself for taking a moment to just breathe. And I know I’m not alone in this. We all do it — measure ourselves against invisible checklists, tallying whether we’re “enough” in every role.
“We are not meant to be measured in scales or schedules, but in moments noticed and lived.”
Learning to Live With Imbalance
A while back, I started paying attention to the times when life didn’t fit neatly into a schedule. I realized something important: it’s okay. Life doesn’t have to be symmetrical. Sometimes it’s heavy in one corner and light in another. And maybe that’s not just okay, maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.
I’ve come to see that balance is less about perfect equality and more about noticing the flow of my days. Some moments require focus; some require rest. Some require caring for others; some require caring for myself. That’s not imbalance — that’s living.
Toward Wholeness
I’ve stopped apologizing for the unevenness of my days. I’ve learned to honor the swing — giving more to work sometimes, more to my family at other times, more to myself when I need it. And with that, I’ve discovered something quieter, yet stronger: wholeness.
Wholeness doesn’t demand symmetry. It doesn’t insist on perfect timing or flawless juggling. It simply asks us to notice, to breathe, and to show up for ourselves in whatever shape our days take.
Life will always be messy. There will be chaos, there will be imbalance. And that’s exactly where we find the moments that feel most alive , when we stop trying to make everything even and just start living it, fully.
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue." — Rainer Maria Rilke
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