What Are Your Priorities?
For a long time, I thought balance was something you either had or didn’t—like a personality trait. Some people just “had it together,” and the rest of us were constantly behind, juggling responsibilities and feeling guilty about whatever we were neglecting that day. What I’ve learned, slowly and imperfectly, is that balance isn’t a destination. It’s a moving target, and it changes with every season of life.
Work is often the loudest voice in the room. Deadlines don’t care if you’re tired, and ambition has a way of convincing you that more hours always equal more success. There were periods when I let work take the lead entirely. I told myself it was temporary, that once things “calmed down,” I’d refocus on my family and my health. But work has a way of expanding to fill all available space if you let it. Balance doesn’t happen by accident—you have to set boundaries on purpose.
Family, on the other hand, is quieter but heavier. It’s the people you’re doing all of this for, and ironically, the ones who often get whatever energy is left at the end of the day. I’ve caught myself being physically present but mentally elsewhere—answering emails during conversations or thinking about tomorrow’s tasks instead of today’s moments. Balance isn’t just about time; it’s about attention.
Fitness used to feel mandatory for me. If I didn’t train six days a week, I felt like I was failing. Over time, priorities shifted—sometimes family needed more, sometimes work did. When fitness took a back seat completely, my energy dropped and everything else suffered. Fitness is still essential—it just looks different now. Consistency matters more than intensity.
The biggest shift happened when I stopped trying to give 100% to everything, every day. That expectation is a recipe for burnout. Some days, work needs more. Other days, family comes first. Sometimes it’s a blend—walking while working, family hikes, biking, or even walking the dog. Balance isn’t equal distribution; it’s intentional prioritization.
I’ve also learned to let go of guilt. Guilt for leaving work on time. Guilt for missing a workout. Guilt for needing rest. Guilt doesn’t create balance—it destroys it. Replacing guilt with honesty has helped: honesty about my limits, about what actually matters, and about the fact that I can’t do everything perfectly.
Routines help, but flexibility matters more. Kids get sick. Work explodes unexpectedly. Motivation disappears. Balance doesn’t mean avoiding chaos—it means learning how to reset when chaos shows up.
Balance is deeply personal. What works for someone else might not work for me, and that’s not failure—it’s reality. The goal isn’t a perfect schedule. It’s a life where work feels meaningful, family feels connected, and fitness supports both.
I’m still learning. Still adjusting. Still messing it up sometimes. But now I understand that balance isn’t something I’ll ever “achieve.” It’s something I practice daily, imperfectly, and with more compassion than I used to have.
Cheers to 2026!!
Coach Anthony
