By Leah Crump

Investigating Your Problems 

All week I found myself puzzled by a small cut on my finger. Each morning it appeared raw again, tender and stinging, as if I had just sliced it open. I chose not to dismiss it, but to pay attention, to linger in the question of why this small wound would not close. 

After several days of quiet observation, the answer revealed itself. The culprit was not random. It was the sharp edge of a new hand soap bottle, catching my skin every time I washed my hands, reopening what had only just begun to heal. Something so simple, so unremarkable, had been holding me in a cycle of pain.

When Balance Slips Away

This is how imbalance often works. It rarely arrives as a sudden collapse, but more often as a gradual erosion. It shows up in the details we overlook: mornings rushed before the day even begins, conversations that leave us quietly diminished, and compromises we convince ourselves are harmless until they collect into exhaustion.

It is not usually one heavy burden that wears us down, but the repetition of smaller irritations that cut into our energy again and again. 

The Power of Curiosity 

Curiosity is the beginning of clarity. It replaces judgment with gentleness and turns frustration into wonder. The question is not “what is wrong with me” but “what is asking for my attention here?” That shift allows us to see patterns that were once hidden, and those patterns reveal the places where healing and balance begin.

Balance grows out of this noticing. Not from perfection, not from rigid control, but from the willingness to stay present with discomfort until it shows us what needs to shift. 

The Practice of Investigation

To investigate your problems is to honor wellness at its core. It is the practice of standing inside the details of your life and listening to what they are saying.

Maybe the sharp edge is a calendar packed so tightly that it leaves no space to breathe. Maybe it is the belief that you must prove your worth by saying yes to everything. Maybe it is the way your mornings begin with noise and urgency instead of calm and intention.

Investigation is not about exaggerating pain. It is about noticing the texture of your days, the weight of your choices, the rhythm of your energy, and then choosing with awareness instead of habit.

Where the Shift Happens

Lasting change rarely comes from sweeping reinvention. It lives in refinement. One ritual added back to your morning. One boundary drawn with kindness and firmness. One decision to change the container rather than continue reopening the wound.

This is how I approach it:

• Audit your rituals. I call this a clarity scan. Walk yourself through the flow of your day. Which rhythms steady you and which ones thin you out? Even one exchange can shift your energy.
• Refine your environment. Pay attention to how light falls, to what sounds fill the space, to how your body feels as it moves through each room. A few small adjustments can change the entire experience.
• Evaluate your relationships. Energy is contagious. Notice who helps you expand and who leaves you contracted.
• Redraw your boundaries. Boundaries are not barriers. They are the design of your vitality, shaping how your energy moves and where it is preserved.

This is the essence of my book Be Well, Do Well. It is not about fixing yourself. It is about designing a life that sustains you. I see the same truth in my consulting work.

A wellness retreat once asked me to review their movement studio. The design was striking. Glass walls framed the trees outside, polished mirrors caught the light in every direction, and the space looked like a sanctuary. Yet people left unsettled, uneasy, unable to rest inside the experience. On paper, the design was flawless. In practice, the body knew otherwise.

When I stepped inside barefoot, I felt the sharpness immediately. The echo of voices bounced harshly across glass and walls. The mirrors fractured attention instead of focusing it. The floor was too rigid, leaving the body braced instead of open. Guests could not name the issue, but their nervous systems told the truth. The beauty of the design was undeniable, yet the experience was cutting against wellness.

By investigating the space and listening to what it asked for, with softer acoustics that calmed the echo, mirrors positioned to support focus, and flooring that offered grounding rather than resistance, we transformed it into a place where people wanted to linger. A room that not only looked like wellness, but finally felt like it.

A Life Designed for Balance

Balance is not a prize waiting at the end of effort. It is not a state to be reached once and held forever. Balance is presence. It is the courage to notice what feels sharp and the wisdom to change what no longer serves. It is the willingness to trust that small refinements can restore what feels lost.

When you live this way, you stop circling the same wound. You stop reacting. You begin creating. You begin writing a story where your life feels whole, alive, and aligned.

An Affirmation 

I investigate my problems.

I notice what feels sharp and I ask why.

I refuse to accept irritation as inevitable.

I design solutions that restore balance and create strength.

I choose small adjustments that unlock sustainable power.

I live from awareness, clarity, and courage.

I am committed to being well, so I can do well.