I’m Back. But First—Let’s Talk About the Break I Had to Take

There’s a quiet kind of burnout that doesn’t announce itself with flames—but with fog.

I didn’t make a big post about stepping away. I didn’t plan it as a sabbatical or rebrand. I didn’t give it a title. I just… stopped.

Stopped creating.

Stopped overexplaining.

Stopped pushing myself to perform clarity I hadn’t actually reached.

The break wasn’t aesthetic—it was necessary. I had hit a wall that didn’t feel like failure, but definitely didn’t feel like freedom either. And for someone like me—someone who lives at the intersection of leadership, culture, storytelling, and systems—being out of alignment with yourself is louder than any content you could produce.

So I logged off. Not just from platforms.

But from pressure.

I Wasn’t Tired From the Work—I Was Tired From the Weight

This wasn’t about content fatigue. It wasn’t about laziness or lack of vision. It was about the weight of being everyone’s strong one, everyone’s source of inspiration, while navigating my own mental, emotional, and creative recalibrations.

When your brand is rooted in transformation, the assumption is that you’re always evolving in public. But some seasons? They require quiet. Not for drama. Not for effect. But for your own dignity. For your own processing.

During this break, I had to ask myself questions that had nothing to do with algorithms or audience growth:

• What am I pretending to be okay with that’s actually draining me?

• What am I creating because I want to—and what am I creating because I’m afraid of losing momentum?

• What parts of my voice have I toned down to be palatable or profitable?

If you don’t pause to check your answers, burnout will give you one anyway.

What I’ve Realized in the Silence

I’ve come to learn that momentum and alignment are not synonyms.

You can be moving at a high speed in the wrong direction. You can be booked, busy, even respected—and still creatively suffocating. You can be praised for being “consistent” while quietly losing the part of you that made the work meaningful.

The truth is, taking a break saved the integrity of what I’m building.

It forced me to confront the parts of my workflow, content strategy, and leadership posture that were unsustainable.

It also reminded me that:

• Quiet is a strategy, not a deficiency.

• Not everything needs to be published to be processed.

• You can lose visibility and still gain clarity.

I’m Not Just Back—I’m Realigned

So yes, I’m back. But not with a long list of new announcements.

I’m back with intention. I’m back with edits to my own mindset. I’m back with a version of myself that is no longer outsourcing validation to numbers or narratives that were never mine to begin with.

Here’s what I know now:

• I want to make work that feels honest, not just impressive.

• I want to write in a way that reflects the full weight of what I carry—not just the parts that fit a content bucket.

• I want to trust that the people I’m meant to reach will value the substance of what I share, not the speed of it.

For Anyone Else Who’s Had to Hit Pause

If you’ve been trying to articulate why you’ve pulled back…

If you’ve been quietly editing your life behind the scenes…

If you’ve been wondering whether stepping away means falling behind…

Let me say this clearly:

Sometimes the most professional thing you can do is protect your creative energy.

Sometimes the most strategic thing you can do is reset your expectations.

And sometimes the only way forward is a season of no.

What I know for sure is this:

Breaks don’t erase your brilliance. They protect it.

And when you return, you get to bring all the clarity that silence gave you—without apology.

ACCESS Point:

You don’t owe anyone a version of yourself that you haven’t had time to fully meet yet.