We Took a Break… and Honestly, It Was Needed

Coming Back, Softer

There’s a version of leadership that looks like never stopping. Showing up to every event, answering every message, holding space for everyone else—even when you’re running on empty. For a long time, that was the version I lived.

This year, I lost someone. It happened suddenly and somehow, slowly, at the same time. And with that loss came a grief I wasn’t fully prepared for—not just grief for the person, but grief for expectations I’d held onto and for experiences that felt taken before their time.

I kept going anyway. Hosted events. Led the organization. Showed up the way I always had. Until I couldn’t anymore. So, I stepped back. I put Shades of Wellness on pause.

The Pressure Behind the Pause

As a founder—and as a Black woman—there’s a particular pressure to keep moving no matter what’s happening underneath. Rest can start to feel like something you have to earn, rather than something you’re simply allowed to take.

We’re taught, often without anyone saying it out loud, to hold it together for everyone else first.

So, stepping back didn’t feel like self-care in the moment. It felt like failure.

What the Pause Actually Was…

It wasn’t failure. It was the first time in a long time that I let myself be a person before being a president, a leader, or the one everyone counts on.

Rest isn’t a departure from the work we do here. It’s part of it.

If Shades of Wellness exists to help Black women rest without guilt, then I had to actually live that—not just talk about it.

Beyond the Popularity Contest…

When I started this organization, it came from one clear place: a desire to make a difference.

But somewhere along the way, wellness became a trend. A fad. Something to perform online—measured in likes, follower counts, and how “visible” your work looked from the outside.

I got wrapped up in that too, for a while. Chasing the version of impact that could be seen instead of trusting the version that was actually happening.

Because behind closed doors, away from the metrics, that’s where the real work was.

Being part of women’s healing journeys. Creating a safe space to talk about the things that don’t fit neatly into a caption. Uplifting our community in ways that never needed an audience to be real.

That’s what mattered.

That’s what still matters.

The Weight Nobody Talks About

Running an organization comes with an unspoken expectation: stay visible.

Post consistently. Show up on every platform, every week, so people know you’re still active, still credible, still “doing the work.”

That pressure doesn’t pause for grief. It doesn’t check in on whether you have anything left to give.

Trying to keep up with that expectation while barely keeping up with yourself is its own kind of exhausting—a drain that’s separate from the grief itself, layered right on top of it.

Knowing You’re Healing…

Here’s what’s different now: I don’t feel bad that I had to step away. That’s how I know healing actually happened. What’s for you is for you.

The break didn’t cost me anything that was truly mine to keep. It gave me the clarity to come back on my own terms—not out of obligation to a posting schedule or anyone else’s expectations of what “staying visible” should look like.

What’s Different Moving Forward?

This season taught us to be more intentional, not just more active.

So, here’s what’s changing:

• We’re no longer hosting events every month or every other month.

• We’re cutting back on collaborations.

• We’re focusing our energy on health and wellness equity and on continuing to connect our community with culturally competent providers.

• Every future event will be meaningful—aligned with our mission and brand and rooted in supporting and uplifting our community, not simply filling a calendar.

  
  

Coming Back?

We’re back now.

Softer. More honest. And hopefully, a little more human than before.

If you’ve been holding it together for everyone but yourself, this space is for you, too.

You don’t have to earn your rest through collapse.

You’re allowed to simply take it.