For a long time I thought balance was a destination — some calm, sorted version of my life I’d unlock once the right things were in place. The right schedule. The right number of commitments. A version of me that had finally figured out how much was too much.
A semester of saying yes to everything taught me otherwise. Classes, a club, a side project, the people I actually wanted to see — each one reasonable on its own, and collectively a quiet kind of overload. Nothing was on fire. Everything was just slightly too much, all the time.
What I’ve landed on, at least for now, is that balance isn’t a state you reach and hold. It’s a decision you re-make constantly, in small ways, usually when no one’s watching. Closing the laptop. Going for the walk. Letting a good-but-not-essential thing fall off the list without guilt.
I’m writing this down mostly for future me — the one who will inevitably overcommit again next fall and need the reminder. Balance isn’t the absence of motion. It’s choosing, over and over, what gets to move you.