Have you ever felt like you’re moving at 500 mph, ticking off every box but still falling apart? Burnout is sneaky, like Annalise Keating: a master of control and chaos, doing it all while quietly unraveling behind the scenes. On the surface, she’s composed, brilliant, and unstoppable—a force in the courtroom and the classroom. But let’s be real: we all knew girlfriend was cracking underneath. A Black woman carrying the weight of everyone else’s problems, hiding her own pain behind sharp suits and sharper comebacks. Nope, I’m pretty confident she was one all-nighter away from throwing her entire career and another bottle of vodka at the wall.
Last week, we talked about loneliness—the quiet epidemic that makes connection feel impossible. But what if the very exhaustion you’re carrying is also holding you back?
A few years ago, I was living what many would call a dream life. I was leading corporate philanthropy for an S&P 500 company, managing internal and external communications, rebranding the company’s mission, vision, and values, launching sustainability goals, and coordinating an investor day on Wall Street. I even flew on a corporate jet. My humble midwestern beginnings are supposed to say cool…. so cool(?) right?
It sounds glamorous—and on paper, it was. But, behind the scenes, my life was unraveling. Literally. Dizzy spells became my norm. I missed birthday parties and Halloween parades. My grounding practice? Neglected. My community? A freaking blur. I made no time for anything or anyone except for work.
Burnout isn’t just about being tired; it’s about being disconnected—from yourself, your loved ones, and the life you want to live.
What I learned (after my body forced me to stop) is that perfectionism and overwork are barriers to showing up as a whole person—someone who laughs, who cries, and who connects. I knew this. I know you know this, too. But somehow, (ladies) we 👏 keep 👏finding👏 ourselves in this place.
Burnout isn’t just some trendy buzzword people throw around—it’s the natural byproduct of a country that’s built its entire workforce around capitalism. Honestly, what else could we expect from a system that treats exhaustion like a badge of honor and productivity like the only thing that gives us value? Burnout is the silent thief of joy, health, and connection. Like loneliness, burnout isolates us—but instead of making us feel invisible, it overwhelms us into invisibility.
We equate busyness with worth, perfectionism with success, and overwork with dedication. But the reality? Burnout disconnects us from the things that matter most: our health, our relationships, and our communities.
Burnout’s effects reach far beyond feeling tired. It manifests physically as fatigue and dizziness, mentally as anxiety and detachment, and socially as a diminished ability to engage meaningfully with the world around us. According to experts, burnout isn’t caused by one bad week or deadline—it’s rooted in chronic, systemic pressures like relentless work demands and lack of support.
The irony is that while burnout whispers, “Do more,” the path to recovery is all about doing less.
Small Good Things:
Set Non-Negotiables: Pick one small boundary to honor daily—like logging off work by 6 PM or taking a walk before bed.
Create a “No” List: Identify tasks or commitments that don’t align with your values and gently let them go. Let them go, girlfriend. You don’t need them.
Micro Moments of Joy: Spend 5–10 minutes daily doing something that nourishes you—reading, stretching, or simply breathing. (I like to watch sky.)
Big Good Things:
Audit Your Time: Reflect on what truly matters to you. Are your current commitments aligned with your values? If not, make space for what does.
Prioritize Restorative Practices: This could mean therapy, mindfulness, or reconnecting with hobbies you’ve let fall away.
Reclaim Community Connection: Volunteer, attend local events, or simply walk through your neighborhood to rebuild ties with your local world.
Burnout thrives on the lie that doing it all is the only way to succeed. But real success—living fully—requires rest, boundaries, and connection. It also requires a continuous recommitment to show up for yourself. When we slow down, we can show up—for ourselves, our loved ones, and the communities that nourish us.
What’s one small way you plan on reclaiming your time or energy? Share below and then share this article with a friend!
Love + Light,
Sophia
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