Your health app doesn’t really measure your success

graphic of male wrist with a smart watch with an overlay text

Recently I posted an image on my Instagram that got a lot of traction. In part, it said, “I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t need to close your rings every day. You know your body better than your watch does, listen to it. Sure, it is rewarding to see progress, to get the rewards, but let us not be fooled into ignoring the deeper needs of our body, our mind, and our spirit. There is work to be done every day, and much of it is not measured by watches.

I know this to be true because I have done this before. After I had my kids, I was determined to get the weight off. The articles I read, the conversations I had with other moms, and the remarks I received when I began to lose the weight only reinforced the validity of my goals. I started a rigorous exercise routine as well as eating routine. I also began to keep track of the numbers. Every article told me where to cut calories in my foods or burn more calories at the gym. I pushed more into focus on food labels and the exercise equipment calorie count. But that wasn’t the only number that I honed in on. The number on the scale was my daily measure of “good” or “bad.” A good day was calories in were less than calories out. The more significant the difference between these two numbers, the “better” I was. And the number on the scale? Well, I had a goal of achieving my postpartum weight, but once I saw that number on the scale, I began to fear losing it. I began to “hedge my bet,” so to speak, and try to creep that number below the goal, “just in case” I gained a few.

Eventually, the number on the scale and the calories in was never low enough. The calories burned were never enough. This frantic mindset is something I worked really hard to break free of for the past 14 years. I have worked hard to re-focus my fitness goals on practical goals that support life-long health and nutrition. It has become more about healing and fueling, not reward and punishment.

And yet, those rings. If I am not careful, I can let those rings pull me back to that frantic headspace, doing just one more thing to close the loop. Even if it doesn’t make sense in my day. Unfortunately, there are no rings for spending time caring for my mom, writing a blog post, or talking with my friends and family. There are no rings for self-care (other than exercise). I don’t get “points” for these things, but the point of the training is to live, love, and be a part of the human race, community, and world.

So remember, goals are great, and we need them. But your watch, your fitness app, even your Bible app, does not determine your worth. Don’t let the gamifying of goal-setting get you stuck thinking you aren’t doing a good enough job at being you.

A dear friend once gave me some wisdom that I hope will encourage you in your day-to-day journey toward health or other goals.

“If you can put your head on your pillow at the end of the day and say, ‘I did my best for today,’ then you’ve succeeded.”

Your best today may not be the same as yesterday or tomorrow, but it still counts. You don’t have to take all the steps, just the next right step. You’ve got this!

Young girl, sitting on swing, early 1980's

Growing Up Caregiving: Coping with the New Normal (or Not)

I grew up as one of my mom’s caregivers. As her only child, I feel a special connection to her. For a few years between when she and my father got divorced and married my step-father before she got sick, it was just the two of us. Though my general impression of that time is positive, and I have a few specific fond memories, most of my childhood memories are of life post-diagnosis.

When she came home from the hospital, our existence went from the two of us to four: my mom, my new step-dad, me, and her illness. We were learning how to deal with each other and life in what was to become our new normal.

At the time, I did my best to be a good daughter. I eagerly tended to my mom, helping with her medications, prepared meals, and helped around the house (as much as one does at age 8). It was fun for a time. I was “playing house.” But eventually, the newness wore off, and things got more complicated. The stress of living with mom’s illness and her changing abilities affected us all, and it showed.

This stress manifested itself in several ways. It slowly sunk into my understanding that mom was sick, but not the kind of sick where she would “get better” in the way I had only known before her diagnosis. Though not a conscious decision on my part, I began to try to control what I could. In my child’s interpretation of my mom’s disease, I knew that any stress could worsen her. So, I rationalized that making good grades, not getting in trouble at school, and NEVER breaking the rules would help her stay out of the hospital.

Sounds great, right? Except that what started as a good intention, turned into a perfectionist and people-pleasing mindset. I became unable to speak up for myself. I developed a fear of confrontation and continued to struggle with expressing my feelings. (I was known as a bit of a crybaby. Even in high school, some people called me “spilled milk.”)

This way of coping became the “new normal” for me and something that, as I continued to experience more and more complex circumstances in life, I retreated to for comfort. Perfection and people-pleasing were the way I learned to “control” things around me. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t work:)

As an adult, my caregiving continues. Thankfully, mom is still here, fighting every moment. But as I have matured, faced crises, developed new relationships, including getting married and having children, I have had to learn a different “new normal.” One that wasn’t about what others thought or how my mom would react. I needed to learn how to cope with my mom’s illness, with life’s curveballs and stressful circumstances, in a way that WOULD work.


Healthy coping skills were not the norm for me, and learning a new normal of self-care has taken decades. And honestly, I’m still a work in progress, but that’s been part of the healing for me. You see, I wanted to be perfect at coping just like I wanted to be perfect at caregiving and marriage, parenting, working, and friendship.

The new normal for me is that though I can work to be compassionate and caring in all of these roles, I will never be perfect. Learning this truth has made it possible for me to cope with the things I cannot control better. And while my life is definitely NOT normal, it’s normal enough for me.

Mom and me.