When You Hit the Wall: The Weight of Always Showing Up
The Invisible Marathon
There comes a point when even the strongest among us slow down—not because we've lost our edge, but because the world keeps asking us to run a race that never seems to end.
For years, I've trained myself to be excellent—to overdeliver, to outperform, to prove that I belong. And for years, I did just that.
Then one day, I hit a wall.
When Your Body Says No
I used to run half marathons. I loved the rhythm, the drive, the clarity of knowing the next mile. But at one race—fully trained, fully prepared, nutritionally on point, mentally sharp, and admittedly a dangerous competitor that day—my body stopped. My legs refused. And I had to finish the race walking.
That moment mirrored something I've felt as a Black woman in the workplace. You can be the most qualified, the most prepared, the most disciplined—and still hit a wall no one else sees. The wall built by exhaustion. By proving. By being "on" all the time.
The Data Behind the Exhaustion
The numbers tell a story our bodies already know:
Black women experience workplace stress at significantly higher rates, with 48% reporting feeling burned out compared to 32% of white women
We are 1.5 times more likely to be the "only" in the room, leading to increased emotional labor and hypervisibility
Despite being among the most educated demographic in the United States, Black women earn just 67 cents for every dollar paid to white men
The myth of the "Strong Black Woman" contributes to higher rates of depression, anxiety, and cardiovascular disease among Black women
These aren't just statistics. They're the numerical evidence of our lived reality.
We've Always Known This Truth
"Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare."
—Audre Lorde
Our mothers, grandmothers, and ancestors understood this. Yet they often didn't have permission to rest. We do. And taking it honors them.
"I am deliberate and afraid of nothing."
—Audre Lorde
Being deliberate means choosing rest when the world demands our constant motion.
"Rest is a form of resistance because it disrupts and pushes back against capitalism and white supremacy."
—Tricia Hersey, The Nap Ministry
The Weight We Carry
Maybe it's the social and political noise. Maybe it's the collective lifetime years of trying to be excellent. Maybe it's the longing for peace, quiet, and ease. It could be any one—or all—of these.
The Unique Burden of Excellence
As Black women, we navigate:
The Performance Tax: Working twice as hard to be seen as half as good
Emotional Labor: Managing others' discomfort with our presence, our hair, our voices, our existence
The Switcher's Burden: Code-switching between authenticity and acceptability
Invisible Mentorship: Often being the only one to guide other women of color, without recognition or support
"I had to make my own living and my own opportunity. But I made it! Don't sit down and wait for the opportunities to come. Get up and make them." —Madam C.J. Walker
While we honor this legacy of resilience, we must also acknowledge: making our own opportunities shouldn't mean destroying ourselves in the process.
Walking Is Winning
So now, I'm walking. Not because I've failed. Not because I'm giving up. But because rest is also a form of resistance. Because slowing down is how I reclaim myself.
"I don't want to be remembered as the woman who was always working. I want to be remembered as the woman who lived."
—Janet Mock
What Walking Looks Like
Walking might mean:
Setting boundaries without apology
Saying "no" to opportunities that drain you
Taking sick days when you're mentally exhausted, not just physically ill
Choosing not to be the spokesperson for your entire race in every meeting
Letting someone else take the lead
Accepting "good enough" instead of demanding perfection from yourself
Your Permission Slip
If you've been running nonstop—trying to be everything to everyone—this is your permission to stop. To breathe. To remember that you don't have to earn your worth through exhaustion.
"When you learn, teach. When you get, give."
—Maya Angelou
But before you can give, you must first receive. Receive rest. Receive grace. Receive the truth that you are enough, right now, exactly as you are.
Sometimes, walking is how we win.
Reflection Questions:
Where in your life are you running when you could be walking?
What would it feel like to prioritize your peace over others' comfort?
Who benefits from your exhaustion? And why are you letting them?
Remember: Your rest is not laziness. It's revolution.
