Finding Your Rhythm

It was a delight to spend time with Claire Coder, founder and CEO of Aunt Flow, during a recent podcast conversation. (Listen to the Podcast HERE)

One topic that really surfaced for me in that discussion was balance—or more specifically, work-life balance.

After thirty years of professional experience, I can tell you this: achieving balance is a great goal, but it’s ultimately a myth. What I’ve experienced instead is something more like a work-life rhythm. Nothing has ever been perfectly “in balance,” but everything has always been moving and evolving.

And in many ways, Claire reinforced that idea. Her own journey didn’t follow a neat or predictable path—she described how she thought success meant following a “typical path” of school, career, and family, before realizing she needed to build something entirely different. 

So what does that actually mean?

I think of it as striving for a flow state rather than a static equilibrium. The idea that life can be neatly composed and compartmentalized feels unrealistic—almost like tempting fate. Life isn’t linear, and it rarely behaves.

When work is going well, family needs attention. You’re excited about spending time with friends, and suddenly a last-minute work trip pops up. A service project you’ve been organizing—one with a fixed, immovable date—lands on the same day your mom needs a ride to urgent care. All dressed and ready for a romantic night out? That’s exactly when the cat decides to get sick and demand an emergency vet visit, forcing you to reshuffle everything.

Life doesn’t balance—it constantly shifts.

Claire’s story itself is a powerful example of this kind of unpredictability. The idea for Aunt Flow came not from a strategic plan, but from a moment of inconvenience—starting her period unexpectedly and realizing access to necessities wasn’t guaranteed. As she put it, that experience sparked the simple but powerful question: why are essentials like toilet paper free, but not period products? 

In my experience, I’ve been most successful at “doing it all” when I observe and honor the natural rhythms of my schedule and calendar. While I’m not on call 24/7, there are definite periods when I need to bring extra focus, energy, and output to my work—especially when I’m onsite running an event or program. Similarly, Claire talked about the early days of building her company as a grind—waitressing daily and pouring everything she earned back into the business before it truly became sustainable. 

That’s rhythm. Not balance.

At the same time, my company offers firm-wide shutdown weeks when everyone truly disconnects—emails pause, Slack quiets, and we all reset. My family commitments often align with a school calendar that’s published 18 months out. Many of my friends share similar hobbies, so we’re all aware of sports schedules and event calendars in advance. These patterns matter—they create a structure I can plan around. Because of that, I’ve become intentional—maybe even a bit obsessive—about my calendar. I regularly plan across multiple time horizons: days, weeks, months, and even three- and six-month windows.

But I know my limits.

I can’t go out more than a couple of times a week and still feel productive. I’ve learned it’s easier to socialize on days I’m already going into the office—if I’m out, I might as well stay out. I try not to book both weekend days, because I need one to be slow and restorative—time for coffee, a good book, or a long walk. And when travel picks up, I scale back social commitments.

I look for patterns, and I lean into my rhythms.

People are often surprised by how much I do on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis. Truthfully, I don’t always see it myself until I look back. I’m fortunate to have a full life—one filled with activity, adventure, and connection.

But I would never describe it as balanced. And that’s okay.

The periods when work feels hardest or most overwhelming are often the same periods when we grow the most. Claire alluded to this differently—recognizing that building something meaningful often requires stepping outside the expected path and embracing discomfort and uncertainty. 

Over time, I’ve learned that it’s essential to invest in more than just work.

Learning—both formal and informal—is a priority. Time with friends and family, shared meals, and meaningful conversations bring me joy and keep me grounded. Exploring new cities, discovering new places, and trying new foods energize me.

And work, while it funds my life, also gives me purpose and pushes me to think bigger and do better.

I can honestly say I have a full life.

But I don’t expect it to ever be perfectly balanced—and I no longer need it to be.

For now, I’m going to keep leaning into the rhythm of it all.