Breaking Burnout | Why Slowing Down Is The New Power Move

There’s a kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix. The kind that sneaks up after months—or years—of chasing goals, proving points, and showing up for everyone except yourself. If you’ve ever felt bone-deep tired while quietly whispering, “I just need a minute”—you’re not alone. But here’s the hard truth, wrapped in love: if you don’t make space for peace, your body and your spirit will eventually take it for you. Burnout isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a warning signal that you are failing yourself. Period.

Ansa Edim knows that signal well. An award-winning storyteller, writer and performer, Ansa has spent years crafting narratives that bear her soul—and in the process, she’s learned just how expensive that emotional labor can be. On the Shaping Freedom podcast, Ansa shared the price she pays for giving her all to a crowd: “I think I burnout easily because it's hard for me to separate me performing a story from me telling my story,” she says. “After the show, I’m drained because I just laid my entire soul bare to a roomful of strangers.”

“Choosing rest isn’t a retreat from ambition. It’s a return to self. Peace is not laziness. Stillness is not failure.”

And here’s the kicker—her “job” doesn’t end there. “Then the audience wants to talk about the show because they relate—and I’m so grateful,” she said, “but I’m tired because I just let all this out.” Whew. Let’s pause right there.

That’s the paradox so many of us live in. When your work means everything to you, it can feel harder to rest and take breaks. Especially when you’re rewarded for your vulnerability, celebrated for your creativity, and praised for your resilience. Those who see you shine don’t always know that what you’re giving to the world is also taking something fundamental from you: your ability to find peace and rest.  

Ansa's journey through burnout didn't come with a dramatic life shift or some glamorous "aha" moment. “I have a full time job on top of storytelling, and it got to the point where my bosses were like, ‘Okay, you haven't taken a vacation in a while,’ and I'm like, ‘Nope, can't take vacation, don't have time.’ Then I would close my laptop at 5 p.m., open my personal laptop, and be writing stories or rehearsing until 10 p.m. I was so tired and I would go to bed at around 1:00 and wake up the next morning and do it over again for months. It got to the point where I just broke down at work and was crying and asking, ‘Why?’”

Sound familiar? Here’s where the transformation begins: in the decision to evolve your lifestyle to match the life you’re actually living—not the one from three years or three careers ago. “I needed to accept my lifestyle,” Edim said. “Because I was still mentally seeing my life from three lifestyles ago.” And in that gap—between who we were and who we’re becoming—we can either build burnout or build belonging.

“Here’s where the transformation begins: in the decision to evolve your lifestyle to match the life you’re actually living.”

What does that belonging look like? For Ansa, discovering that is still a work in progress. “I don’t know what a slow life looks like,” she admits. “But I want to find out. I wonder if peace will look good on me.” Now that’s a thesis.

But don’t be fooled—choosing rest isn’t a retreat from ambition. It’s a return to self. And it’s hard. “Every accomplishment of my life has been because I was trying to make someone mad,” Ansa jokes. “Whether it was business school or writing a show, it was like, ‘Oh, I’ll show you.’” That kind of motivation burns hot—and fast. Eventually, it demands something more sustainable: purpose rooted in self-love, not spite.

And to get there? You have to make space. You have to grieve. You have to slow down. You have to admit you need help and then accept it when it’s offered. “I’ve never envisioned myself as the main character,” Edim confesses. “I forget about myself in the story. But I’m not the funny fat friend. I am that person—but that person is also the main character.” Say that again for the people in the back.

“You have to admit you need help and then accept it when it’s offered.”

We talk a lot about self-care, but we rarely talk about self-stewardship—that deeper tending to our emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being. It’s not about bubble baths and scented candles (though we love those too). It’s about building a life where you don’t have to escape to recover.

If you're doing big, beautiful, legacy-making things—like Ansa, whose one-woman show was just awarded Best Storytelling at the 2025 NYC Fringe Festival—then give yourself the support, structure, and softness that greatness requires. Especially if you're the one doing all the writing, pitching, producing, and performing. Start seeing yourself as the main character. Then act like it.

Rest is not weakness. Peace is not laziness. Stillness is not failure. And if you’re burning out, it’s not because you’re fragile—it’s because you’re on fire. Take a beat. Put the flame down. And choose yourself with the same intensity you’ve been choosing greatness.


TL;DR (Too Long Didn’t Read)

• Burnout is a signal, not a shortcoming. When you're constantly pouring into others without pausing to refill yourself, exhaustion will catch up—no matter how passionate or driven you are.

• Emotional labor has a price. Sharing your truth, holding space for others, and being "on" all the time may be fulfilling—but it can quietly drain your energy and peace if you're not careful.

• Rest is a radical, necessary choice. Slowing down isn’t about giving up—it’s about aligning your lifestyle with the life you’re actually living now, not the version of you from years ago.

• You deserve to be the main character. Self-care isn’t just about surface-level relief—it’s about building a life that supports your well-being, creativity, and purpose without burning you out.

LEARN MORE

• Follow Ansa’s journey

• Check out Ansa on TikTok

• Learn more about Ansa’s show Is This Normal?