I can be incredibly driven. I can get up early, go to the gym, work all day, plan an event, start a new project and somehow decide that what I really need is another idea to work on.

I can also sit on my couch, turn on Netflix and become remarkably committed to doing absolutely nothing. Both of these women are me. And somewhere between them, apparently, I’m supposed to find balance.

I’ve been thinking about that word a lot lately, partly because I’m recovering from a total knee replacement. Eleven weeks after surgery, I found myself under a barbell doing back squats. I posted a video, feeling pretty damn proud of myself, and a woman commented that she was a retired physiotherapist and wanted to know who had told me I should be doing that.

It made me wonder if I was doing too much. And then I laughed because that question could probably be asked about several areas of my life.

I’m 62. I work full-time. I’m building Once Upon a Woman, the women’s storytelling community I started a few years ago. I speak, host events, write, train and am usually thinking about whatever I want to create next. I like being busy. I like having things to look forward to. I like pushing myself. I don’t particularly want to slow down simply because I’m getting older.

But here’s the other truth. There are days when I don’t want to do any of it. I don’t want to go to the gym. I don’t want to go for a walk. I don’t want to answer an email. I would be quite happy to stay on the couch watching Netflix for an embarrassingly long time.

And sometimes I need that. Sometimes I don’t. That, I’m discovering, is where balance gets complicated.

We hear a lot about slowing down. Rest. Listen to your body. Give yourself grace. Stop glorifying busy. I agree with all of it. Except sometimes I don’t need more grace. I’ve rested. I need to get off the damn couch.

Sometimes going to the gym when I don’t feel like going is exactly what I need. Sometimes staying home is exactly what I need. Sometimes pushing myself is good for me. Sometimes pushing myself is just me refusing to listen when my body is telling me enough.

The hard part is knowing the difference. I suspect I’m not the only woman who has trouble knowing when I need to give myself a push and when I need to give myself a break.

My knee has become a surprisingly good example of this. Movement makes it feel better, so doing nothing isn’t necessarily the answer. But doing more and more just because I can isn’t necessarily the answer either. And maybe that’s true of most things.

I’m starting to think balance isn’t some perfect place in the middle where we finally get everything right. Maybe balance moves.

There are times when work needs more of us. Times when our bodies do. Times when the people we love do. There are seasons when we’re building something and seasons when we need to pull back. And sometimes there are Sunday afternoons when Netflix wins.

In a few weeks, I’m going to Greece for a month. There will be no CrossFit. No barbell. No carefully planned workouts. There will be a lot of walking, long meals, time with people I love and probably some wine. My rhythm will change. And I think I need that too.

At 62, I’d love to tell you I’ve figured out the difference between pushing myself and pushing too hard, between resting and simply not wanting to get off the couch. I haven’t.

Sometimes I do too much. Sometimes I do too little. Sometimes I know exactly what I need and ignore myself anyway.

Maybe finding balance isn’t about finally getting it right. Maybe it’s about noticing a little sooner when we’ve tipped too far in either direction and trusting ourselves enough to adjust.

I don’t want a smaller life in the name of balance. I want a full one.

And maybe finding my balance means accepting that a full life will never be perfectly balanced.