Balance takes work. Between working full-time, eating right, going to the gym, attacking more work after work, cooking, taking care of home, studying, and consistently being fed (spiritually and intellectually) it's hard. It's tiring.

I'm tired.

I've been so dedicated to becoming a balanced woman that I've forgotten how to be a twenty-six year old woman. A woman whose imperfections don't cause anxiety. A woman whose responsibilities come second to a night out or a week's worth of happy hours. A woman whose own criticism doesn't drive her crazy. Somewhere in the midst of building a brand and the woman I was created to be - simultaneously - I forgot how to be the woman I am. This twenty-six year old woman.

I don't always want to be balanced. 

Sometimes I just want to be twenty-six. 

I want to make twenty-six year old mistakes with my twenty-six year old friends. Sometimes I want to use my twenty-six year old good for twenty-six year old evil. Sometimes I want to sleep all day and not feel bad. Not feel lazy. Not feel like I wasted a day, even if I may have. 

Sometimes I want to be okay being weak. I want to be comfortable doing nothing. I want to be cured with wine and laughter. Sometimes I want to spend my paychecks before I get them, and make ridiculous decisions that my children could laugh at. Twenty-six year old decisions that at twenty-seven I will laugh at. 

Sometimes I don't want to be fed; I don't want to do more. Sometimes I just want to be the twenty-six year old that I am, full of f*ck ups, simplicity and an occasional f-bomb. 

I don't always want to have it all together; sometimes I want to fall apart and not worry about who I need to be strong for. Sometimes I don't want to "stay focused" or "keep pushing". Sometimes I want to stop everything, and just be twenty-six.

And as I continue working to be a balanced woman while becoming who I was created to be, I need to remind myself that part of that balance is embracing my present. My very twenty-six year old present. Because I just want to be twenty-six. I owe it to myself to be twenty-six. 

You do, too. Even if your twenty-six is thirty-four or forty-one.