Circles, Seasons and Choosing What Comes Next

Leslie Guerin • December 20, 2025

There’s something about the Christmas season that naturally pulls us inward.

The calendar tells us it’s the end of the year, but our bodies already know. The light shifts. The pace changes. Even those of us who love momentum and movement feel the quiet tug to pause—if only briefly—and take inventory of where we’ve been and what we’re carrying forward.


For many people, this season is about family coming together. For some, that’s cozy and comforting. For others, it’s complicated, layered, and emotional. Sometimes all of those things exist at once.


I live very much in that middle space.



The Shape of Family Isn’t Always a Circle



My children are children of divorce.


That sentence still catches in my throat a bit—not because it defines them, but because it taps into a part of my own history that I’ve carried for a long time. I was also a child of divorce, and while I’ve done a lot of work around that experience, there are moments when old memories still rise up unexpectedly.


One of those moments was watching other families gather—really gather—around their child at big milestones. High school graduations. College graduations. That full-circle photo: parents together, arms wrapped around the same person, standing in the same frame.


I didn’t have that.


And I remember how much it sucked.


When the father of my children and I split, we hoped—very intentionally—to be different. In many ways, we were and still are. We made choices rooted in respect, communication, and prioritizing our kids. But some things can’t be forced.


A group photo that’s fake is worse than not having one at all.


And so, my children also lack that single, tidy circle of support.


For a long time, I saw that as a deficit.



More Circles, Not Fewer



What I’ve come to realize—slowly, imperfectly, and with a lot of reflection—is that my children don’t have less support.


They have more circles.


My parents both repartnered. At the time, that felt like another fracture. Another layer of separation. But over the years, those additions expanded my community—and, in turn, my growth.


The same has happened for my children.


They have been raised by a village.


Friends who show up. Friends who stay. Friends who cheer for them—and for me—louder than the two voices of their father and I could ever manage on our own.


If you’ve ever been part of a group fitness class, you know this feeling.


You don’t walk in knowing everyone.

You don’t all move exactly the same.

But somehow, the collective energy holds you up.


That’s what our lives look like.



When the Holidays Complicate the Math



The holidays amplify everything.


They’re supposed to be about gratitude and generosity, about sharing time and love with the people who matter most. But when your life is made up of many circles, not one neat ring, that sharing can become complicated.


Who gets time?

Who gets which day?

How do you stretch yourself without breaking?


For years, I tried to be everywhere at once. I tried to honor every circle equally. I tried to show up fully for everyone.


And every year, I felt more depleted.


So now, I do something different.



Closing the Circle—On Purpose



Each year around the holidays, I intentionally close the circle.


Just me.

And my two children.


We carve out time that belongs only to us—no expectations, no performance, no trying to prove that we did it “right.”


Time together reminds me of something important:

That while I have done many things wrong while parenting and growing up alongside them, I have also done some good.


I have been present.

I have been consistent.

I have stayed curious.


And maybe most importantly—I have kept moving.



A Career That Grew With My Kids



I’ve done the same job for my entire career.

And for my children’s entire lives.


But I’ve done it in unconventional ways.


Much like our family.


I didn’t follow a straight line. I built BarSculpt through pivots, adaptations, injuries, recoveries, and reinventions. I taught in studios. I taught online. I taught in living rooms and on screens and across time zones.


If you’ve taken my classes, you know I don’t believe in one “right” way to move.


And I don’t believe in one “right” way to live either.


Things can be however you want them to be.



Letting Go of the White Picket Fence



I grew up thinking—truly believing—that there was a single template for success:


Marriage.

Kids.

Dog.

House with a white picket fence.

Two cars in the driveway.


I don’t know exactly where that belief came from, but I chased it hard.


I did it.

More than once.


And now?


Now I’m exploring condo living.

The ability to lock the door and travel.

To step away from darkness and snow in the winter.

To design a life that fits who I am now, not who I thought I was supposed to be.


I can only move on my own path because I know theirs is secure.



Equal Voices, Not Hierarchies



We reside in three different states.

I don’t share my children’s last name.

And we problem-solve as equals.


Not because I don’t have more experience—because I do—but because experience doesn’t automatically equal wisdom.


If I’ve learned anything with age, it’s that age means absolutely nothing.


These two souls keep me young because I learn from them constantly. Our exchange may not be equal in effort or responsibility, but it is absolutely reciprocal.


That’s something I see mirrored in movement spaces all the time.


Teachers learn from students.

Leaders learn from communities.

Strength isn’t top-down—it’s shared.



Movement as a Metaphor for Planning Ahead



As a barre and Pilates instructor, I spend a lot of time talking about alignment, intention, and control.


But what I care about most is adaptability.


Life doesn’t move in straight lines.

Bodies don’t either.


The end of the year is often framed as a time to set goals, make resolutions, and push forward. But before we rush ahead, there’s value in closing the loop on where we are.


In Pilates, we return to center.

In barre, we check our base.

In life, we take stock of our circles.


What’s supporting you?

What’s draining you?

Where are you forcing something that doesn’t fit anymore?



Forward Planning Doesn’t Have to Be Aggressive



Planning for the new year doesn’t have to mean overhauling your life.


Sometimes it’s as simple as asking:


  • What do I want to protect?
  • What do I want to strengthen?
  • What can I release?



For me, the answer this season is connection.


Not the performative kind.

The real kind.



A Three-Day Adventure



As we head out on our three-day adventure to Washington, D.C.—to connect, be silly, and make memories—I feel grounded in a way that has nothing to do with doing things “right.”


I’ll pull my circle strings tight.


Not to exclude others.

But to anchor us.


So that for the rest of the year, even when we’re miles apart, we feel that connection.


That’s what sustains us.

That’s what allows us to keep moving forward.



Bringing It Back to You



If this season feels messy for you—if your family doesn’t look like the movies, if your circles overlap instead of align—know this:


You are not doing it wrong.


Just like in movement, stability doesn’t come from rigidity.

It comes from awareness, balance, and choice.


As we close out this year and begin planning for the next, I invite you to consider:

What does your circle look like?

And how can you honor it—exactly as it is?


From my BarSculpt family to yours, may this season offer moments of grounding, clarity, and connection—however you choose to define them.


And may the year ahead meet you where you are, not where you think you’re supposed to be.


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