The Elusive "Work-Life Balance

When I hear people talking about work–life balance, it is usually because they are unhappy and/or unhealthy, and they believe work is playing a significant role in that imbalance. And often, it is.

Recently, while scrolling through LinkedIn, I noticed a series of videos about work–life balance. Each speaker offered a different perspective. I didn’t completely disagree with any of them, but I felt that most of the explanations were incomplete.

One person spoke about people who are “obsessed” with work, suggesting that the world needs these individuals because they are driven and get things done. These are people who spend most of their waking hours working.

Another speaker offered the familiar refrain: “You can have everything—just not at the same time.” The suggestion was that the key is presence: giving your full attention to whatever you are doing in the moment, while accepting that something else will always be negotiated or sacrificed.

Another perspective focused on data, pointing to countries with the best work–life balance—typically those that offer generous benefits such as paid time off, parental leave, and health care.

Finally, one speaker made the point that we can’t actually separate work from life. We spend roughly a third of our day working. It is, undeniably, a significant part of our lives.

I didn’t reject any of these perspectives outright. In fact, parts of each resonated with me. But the idea that intrigued me most, and the one that felt most unfinished, was this: work is not separate from life; it is part of it.

And that idea deserves deeper exploration.

What I’ve come to believe is this: when we talk about work–life balance, we often miss the deeper issue. The problem is not simply how many hours we work—it’s whether the work itself is aligned with who we are, what we value, and the life we are trying to live.

“We Need People Who Are Obsessed with Work”

I don’t know how much objective truth there is in this statement, but I do know that there are people who genuinely enjoy working. They enjoy their work, they are willing to invest long hours, and they find real satisfaction in what they do. We used to call these people Type A personalities.

I see myself in this description, to an extent. I am a high achiever. I am driven. I am a doer. I could attribute that to society, my parents, or my circumstances, but for better or worse, this is part of who I am, and it worked for me for a very long time.

It is also who my husband is. So when he stays up until 3 a.m. writing a proposal or finishing a report, I understand it.

Here’s the thing: when you are doing work that aligns with your values, work that gives you a sense of purpose, it doesn’t always feel like work. Sometimes it feels like creativity. Sometimes it feels like play. Sometimes it feels like service.

As someone with more than 25 years in education, I often felt deeply aligned with my work. I intentionally chose institutions and roles that reflected my values. That didn’t make the work easier. In many ways, it made it harder—because I cared.

Working in education gave me a sense of purpose. I was working with students, trying to improve their experiences, trying to strengthen institutions in ways that would ripple outward and impact lives. I was getting paid, it wasn’t volunteer service, but at times, it felt like service.

All of this is to say: working long hours does not automatically mean someone is unhappy, unhealthy, or obsessed. For some people, meaningful work is a source of vitality.

“You Can Have Everything—Just Not at the Same Time”

This phrase is often presented as wisdom, and I hear it most frequently directed at women—especially working mothers. As a former single, working mother, it sounds very familiar.

I don’t disagree with it entirely, but I think it needs more nuance.

When I work with women—whether they work outside the home or remotely—I often engage them in a simple exercise. I ask them to track how they spend their time, not using a spreadsheet, but a pie chart.

Together, we identify categories based on basic human needs. I usually limit this to six to eight categories so the exercise remains manageable. These often include:

• Work

• Sleep

• Relationships (family, friends, partner)

• Physical activity

• Spirituality

• Creativity

• Learning

• Leisure

At the end of each day, they create a pie chart that reflects how their time was spent. After a week, we sit together and look at the patterns.

The questions I ask are simple:

What do you notice?

Which areas are getting most of your attention?

Which areas are being neglected?

What often becomes clear is this: there aren’t just two categories—“work” and “life.” Life is made up of many needs, and balance is less about equal slices and more about ensuring that, over time, all needs receive some attention.

I also believe that our needs change across seasons of life. At 53, I find that my need for spirituality is greater than my social need, and I’m at peace with that. The social slice of my pie may be smaller, but it still matters.

An empty nester may suddenly find space for parts of themselves that were once sidelined. What matters is not perfection, but awareness.

It’s also worth naming that the phrase “you can have everything, just not at the same time” often carries a gender bias. It is far more commonly offered to women than to men. We seem comfortable asking women what they will sacrifice—for a season, or longer. How often do we offer this framing to men?

Benefits and Balance

I believe deeply in benefits, not because they guarantee work–life balance, but because they support health, dignity, and well-being. I believe medical care is a human right. I believe we should support women and families if we value the next generation.

But it is entirely possible to work for an organization with excellent benefits and still live a life that feels deeply unbalanced.

Which brings me to what I think is missing from many conversations about work–life balance.

Alignment Matters More Than Balance

What if the reason we feel unbalanced isn’t that we work too much, but because we are not aligned with our work or our organization?

When we spend most of our time doing work that feels meaningless or that conflicts with our values, it becomes much harder to feel well. All work involves stress. Doing hard things is part of growth. But when our values are out of alignment, the cost is higher.

Over the years, these questions about alignment, meaning, and season-of-life have become central not only to my writing, but to my work with others. Through my coaching practice, Spirit, Sand & Sea, I work with individuals—many of them women in leadership—who are navigating transitions, burnout, illness, or a quiet sense that something no longer fits.

The work is slow, reflective, and deeply personal. It’s not about doing more. It’s about listening more honestly to what your life is asking of you now.

I also want to acknowledge that meaningful work is a privilege. Many people don’t have choices. They work to survive, to support their families. Sometimes that is the meaning. That was true for my father, a physical laborer, whose purpose was to provide for his family.

But if you are someone who does have a choice, I believe this is where courage comes in.

Leading bravely may mean taking a risk—not toward better balance, but toward deeper alignment. It may mean seeking work where your skills, talents, and values are needed and respected. Work that honors your humanity. Work that fits the season of life you are in now.

Balance is not something we achieve once and for all. Alignment is something we return to, again and again.

If these questions about alignment, meaning, and courageous change resonate with you, you’re not alone. This is the heart of the work I do through Spirit, Sand & Sea—creating space for reflection, clarity, and reorientation during times of transition. You’re welcome to explore more at your own pace, if and when it feels right.