Living Forward Without Leaving Behind: What Balance Really Means

Early Lessons, Hard Choices, Consequences, and a Widening Circle of Influence

Hello, my name is Priscilla Rendon.

Did you ever wonder if your life would really make a difference… not just to your family and friends, but beyond the people who already know you?

I didn’t.

For most of my life, I was content simply believing that I was doing the right things for the people in my life, my family, my friends, my staff, my peers, and leadership. I didn’t think much about how far that impact could reach. It was enough for me to know that I was living authentically among the people that were significant.

Like most people, my life wasn’t without its challenges. I experienced my share of trials as a teenager, marrying young, navigating marriage, and building a career. At the time, it all felt like “normal” life at times wonderful and at other times overwhelming chaos.

Early in my career, I began to recognize a few things about myself. I had a natural ability to adapt. I was resilient. And I had a strong desire to create an environment where people felt supported.There was something deeply rewarding about being someone others could count on.

But was that always how others saw me? Not exactly.

My ability to adapt was often viewed as someone who couldn’t settle.
My resilience could be mistaken for naivete, stubbornness, or even blind optimism.
And my desire to support others was sometimes seen as people-pleasing.

At the time, I was doing the best I could with what I knew. Still, it took intention and effort to refine those instincts into strengths that could serve me in both in my career and in my life.

For a while, things felt steady. Work was going well. Home was going well.

So, what happened?

No one thing.

I took a position in Austin to step away from the growing weight of office politics, and I made the decision to end my marriage to find myself again after losing respect, connection, and love.

To this day, I still struggle with that decision.

I chose self-preservation over the discomfort of both work and home, even though it meant leaving my son behind. He was twelve and not willing to come with me.

At the time, I believed I was making the best decision I could. But that doesn’t mean it was without consequence.

Why does this decision still weigh on me?

At the age of seventeen, my son took his own life.

His mental health struggles, his suffering, and his previous attempts shook everything I thought I understood about happiness being a choice, life, about parenting, and about control.

I often find myself wondering if I had stayed what might have been different.It’s an answer that will forever elude me.

There is nothing I can do to change what happened.

I can only choose how I live forward.

And this is where those early traits of adapting, resilience, and the desire to create a better environment became something more than just instincts or skill. They became necessary for survival.

I was no longer just interested in making a difference within my immediate circle. I needed to make a difference beyond that as a way to honor my son’s life and to make meaning out of what remained.

For a long time, the only thing that got me out of bed was the responsibility of having a job. And when I retired, even that was gone.

So, I had to give myself a reason.

I turned to movement.

There’s truth in the idea that when you change your body, you change your state. Movement became more than exercise—it became a way to interrupt the feeling of being stuck. A way to shift, even when I didn’t feel like I could.

I leaned into learning.

Through empowerment work, I became certified in Neuro-Linguistic Programming. With a background in Communication Studies, I began to better understand the impact of self-talk and how deeply it influences our mental and emotional state.

And I couldn’t help but wonder—if I had known then what I know now could it have made a difference for my son?

It’s a thought that still occurs to me as I coach others.

Finally, I turned to nutrition.

After years of struggling with weight, I pursued a certification in Nutrition Coaching. I began to understand that the food choices we make either fuel or drain the energy we need to face challenges, stay emotionally steady, and think clearly.

I’ll admit, this is still an area where I’m learning discipline.

But that’s the thing about balance.

It’s not about having everything figured out.

I didn’t set out to make a difference beyond my circle.
Life expanded that circle for me through loss, through growth, and through the choices I continue to make.

This is what balance means to me.

Not perfection. Not control.

But learning how to live forward without leaving behind the people, the pain, and the purpose that shaped me.

We all carry something. Maybe your story looks different, but know you’re not alone in learning how to live forward.

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts.Feel free to join the conversation on my Facebook page.