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Life Balance: It Ain’t Gonna Happen

Washington Park with dogs

Life Balance is a choice

Somehow we got the notion that we should have, could have and must have life balance. I know. I’ve been speaking on the topic for 25 years. I’ve worn multiple hats over the years. Wife, mom, daughter, sister, significant other, dog owner, business owner, employee, coach, student, volunteer, friend and more. And, each hat has sub-hats.

The long-term hats have changed job descriptions. My children are grown. But, I’m still their mom. I don’t have the physical workload associated with motherhood, but the emotional workload seems to be permanent. Maybe that’s just my choice.

Sometimes roles or hats get eliminated. Sometimes you get a new hat placed on your head, not like a crown, but more like an anvil dropped from a twenty-story building. That’s happened to me. I’ve become a caregiver. It’s sad. It’s draining. It’s not going away. Yet. I still have my other hats.

So how does one – no – how do I maintain some semblance of balance? My message to life balance audiences has been that you can never be perfectly in balance. After all, while you’re at work, the dog might be shredding your couch. While you’re taking Junior to the park, the sky could be falling at work, your aging parent falls, and your friend gets dumped and wants to cry on your already hunched shoulder. What I’ve told my audiences and believe strongly in is that you can be serially balanced. The secret is to be fully present wherever you are. Whatever hat you’ve donned, pull it down tightly so you’re really wearing it. When you work, work. When you play, play.

Of course there is more to life balance. Are you wearing too many hats at once? Do you have backup in place? Are you employing good time and activity management procedures? Can you say, “No?” Most importantly, are you taking care of your physical and mental health? You can’t give what you don’t have.

When my new caretaking hat got pulled down snugly around my ears and over my eyes, I sunk into a funk. I don’t drink or smoke but I can go blotto on a sleeve of Oreos. I’ve been known to canoodle with Ben & Jerry. “Chunky Monkey” is my new nickname.

I’m not good at compartmentalizing. My sense of humor, which is how I’ve always handled every trauma, vanished. My new caretaker role was taking over and crowding out all my other roles.  I realized I was losing myself. I was becoming Karen the Karetaker. I had to set boundaries with myself.  Before boundaries I thought perhaps I should stop working, exercising, having lunch with friends, eating healthfully, laughing and sleeping. Of course this doesn’t make sense and no one was asking me to wear only one hat and to put the others in the Goodwill give away box.

Now I realize that I can laugh and be silly while wearing my caretaker hat. I can go to a play, have lunch with a friend, work, hang out in the bookstore, go for coffee, walk the pups, make a hearty soup and not neglect my new hat. I just take that heavy hat off temporarily or maybe just push it back on my brow.

In the 1970’s, the topic of Life Balance morphed into “Work-Life Balance.” This always sounded to me like there was Work or there was Life. One thing that became very clear to me while wearing my new caretaker hat was how important my work; my clients and my audiences are to me. My work is a vital part of my life. The creativity, the learning, the challenge, the people are energizing. This week alone I’m coaching a client on how to become a high-paid speaker. Then I’m developing and delivering a webinar on Elevator Speeches. Another client wants me to help her enrich her voice so she sounds more authoritative. My brain cells are chirping.

One final thought, you don’t have to wear your hats alone. It’s OK to ask for help. When help is offered, say, “Yes.” My wonderful sister-in-law wanted to bring me dinner last night to lighten my load. My first response was to tell her that it wasn’t necessary. I’ve got food in the refrigerator. I’m fine. We went back and forth. She kept offering and I kept declining. She finally said, “Just say ‘Yes.’ “ I did. She felt good. I felt grateful.

Life balance? Forget about it. Be present. Have backup. Set boundaries. Ask for help. Take care of yourself.

Time to walk the dogs. No cell phone. Just walk the dogs.

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