Somewhere along the way, wellness became another thing to be good at.
We’re supposed to drink enough water, get 10,000 steps, eat enough protein, lift weights, stretch, meditate, take our vitamins, get eight hours of sleep, meal prep on Sunday, limit our screen time, journal, practice gratitude, hit our macros, and somehow find time for self-care in between.
Oh, and we should probably reduce our stress.
Nothing says relaxation quite like stressing about whether you’re doing enough things to reduce your stress.
The funny thing is, I actually care a lot about wellness. Probably more now than I ever have. I want to feel good. I want to have energy. I want to take care of my body and my mental health. I want to eat food that makes me feel good, move more, sleep better, and make choices now that Future Trisha will appreciate.
What I don’t want anymore is for wellness to feel like another job.
When Taking Care of Yourself Becomes Another Thing to Achieve
I’ve spent a lot of my life achieving. I built a career. I became a mom. I went back to school—more than once. I’ve traveled, started businesses, chased ideas, said yes to opportunities, and generally operated under the assumption that if something was worth doing, it was probably worth doing at 110%.
That approach can get you pretty far professionally. It turns out it doesn’t translate quite as well to every other part of life.
When I started trying to take my health more seriously, I brought that same achievement mentality with me. Wellness became another project to manage. There were goals to hit, numbers to watch, routines to build, foods to eat, foods not to eat, workouts to complete, and habits I was apparently supposed to perform every day for the rest of my natural life.
And when I couldn’t consistently do all of those things—which, shockingly, happened quite often—I didn’t think, Maybe this is an unreasonable amount of stuff to expect from one human being.
I thought I was failing.
That’s the part I’m done with.
Maybe Wellness Doesn’t Need to Be Optimized
We live in a world that is constantly offering us ways to become better versions of ourselves. There’s always a new routine, app, supplement, workout, device, diet, productivity hack, or life-changing product promising to make us healthier, happier, more focused, more rested, more organized, or somehow more complete.
And listen, I love some of that stuff.
I will probably always be interested in finding a product, habit, food, app, or ridiculous little life hack that makes my life easier. I genuinely enjoy trying things and figuring out what works.
But I’m becoming much more interested in asking one simple question:
Does this actually make my life better?
Not whether it’s trending. Not whether someone on Instagram swears it changed her life. Not whether my watch will congratulate me. Not even whether it’s technically the most optimal way to do something.
Does it help me feel healthier, happier, calmer, stronger, more energized, or more present?
Because if the pursuit of wellness is making me miserable, I’m not entirely sure we can call that wellness.
I’m Trying Something Different
For once, my response to wanting to feel better isn’t to create a giant plan for becoming an entirely different person beginning Monday morning.
Monday has carried enough responsibility for my personal transformation.
Instead, I’m trying to notice the small things that make taking care of myself easier—and then do more of those.
I like walking, so walking counts as exercise. If buying comfortable shoes makes me want to walk farther, I’m wearing the comfortable shoes. I need to eat gluten-free, so I’m trying to find gluten-free food I actually want to eat instead of constantly treating it like the disappointing consolation prize. I keep water near me because otherwise I will apparently forget that hydration exists.
I’m trying to move my body without believing every bit of movement needs to qualify as a Workout™. I’m trying to sleep when I’m tired instead of treating my ability to function on too little sleep as some kind of accomplishment. I’m looking for tools, products, routines, and shortcuts that remove friction from my life rather than adding another thing I’m supposed to manage.
And occasionally, I’m going to eat the damn queso.
None of these things are revolutionary. That might be exactly why they feel different.
I’m not trying to completely transform my life. I’m trying to make the life I already have work a little better.
What “Well Balanced” Means to Me Now
When I first thought about A Well Balanced, I think some part of me imagined balance as a destination.
If I could just organize everything correctly—work, health, family, money, home, relationships, myself—eventually I would arrive at this magical place where everything received exactly the right amount of attention.
Voilà. Balance achieved.
I don’t believe that anymore.
Life doesn’t stay still long enough for balance to work that way. Sometimes work needs more of me. Sometimes my family does. Sometimes I need to chase something I’m excited about and let a few other things slide for a while. And sometimes my body very loudly informs me that it has moved itself to the front of the line whether I like it or not.
I’m starting to believe balance isn’t about giving everything equal attention. It’s about noticing when something needs to shift and giving yourself permission to shift with it.
That idea feels much more useful to me than trying to maintain some perfectly optimized version of life.
And honestly, it’s what I want A Well Balanced to be about.
I want to talk about the things that make life easier and the things that make it better. The things worth spending money on—and the things that absolutely aren’t. Health without obsession. Ambition without sacrificing everything else. Food that makes us feel good and tastes good. Homes we actually live in. Families that are wonderfully imperfect.
I want room here for careers and money and travel and beauty and wellness and products and experiences and all the other pieces of life that refuse to fit neatly into separate boxes.
Not because I’ve figured out the formula for balancing all of them.
Quite the opposite.
I’m still figuring it out. I suspect I always will be.
Maybe that’s the point.
I’m done trying to be good at wellness.
I’d rather get better at living well.
