When the Heart for Community Starts to Hurt

I’ve always had a heart for community. 

It’s never been about the spotlight. It’s been about showing up, organizing the event, raising the funds, mentoring the youth, showing up to the meetings, the clean-ups, the causes. Doing the work no one sees. Saying yes, even when it costs you time, energy, or sleep. Even when it costs you time with your own family. 

And I’ve said yes a lot. 

I’ve poured into my community the way I want it to pour into others, with purpose, consistency, and love. But I’ll be honest… it’s not always easy to keep that love alive. 

Sometimes, the people you serve alongside drain more than they give. 

Sometimes, the meetings turn into ego battles. 

Sometimes, the volunteers who said they’d help disappear when the real work begins. 

Sometimes, you’re left holding it all while everyone else walks away. 

And in those moments, it’s easy to forget why you ever cared in the first place. 

Because you didn’t sign up for drama. Or micromanagement. Or performative service. You signed up because your heart said this matters. 

But when you're tired… when you're stretched between your own responsibilities, your family, your work, it’s hard to find joy in the very thing that once lit you up. 

And that’s when the guilt creeps in. Because you want to step back… but you don’t want to feel like you’re abandoning the cause. 

You want to rest… but you know someone will talk. 

You want to say, this isn’t healthy anymore… but you worry they’ll say you “quit.” 

So here’s what I’m learning, slowly and sometimes painfully: 

It’s okay to step back. 

It’s okay to pause, regroup, and reconnect with your “why.” 

It’s okay to protect your peace, even from something that used to bring you purpose.

Because your service should never come at the cost of your soul. 

And stepping back doesn’t mean disappearing. It doesn’t mean you stop caring. It just means you’re finding a healthier way to care, one that doesn’t wreck your family, your work, or your wellbeing. 

Sometimes that means showing up quietly, behind the scenes, where no one sees, and no one expects. 

Sometimes it means saying “no” to the next big project, and “yes” to a smaller one that actually fills you. 

Sometimes it means letting others lead, and being okay with not having your name on it. 

Because true community work isn’t about being in the front. It’s about staying rooted, in values, in integrity, in impact. 

Even if your role shifts. 

Even if no one claps. 

Even if it looks different than it used to. 

So if you're tired… if you're burned out… if you're questioning your place in the community you once gave your all to, just know this: 

You don’t owe anyone burnout. 

You don’t owe anyone your presence at the cost of your peace. 

What you owe yourself, and your family, is honesty. Boundaries.

And a version of service that doesn’t strip you of joy. 

Take the break. 

Refocus. 

Serve quietly if you need to. 

Just don’t stop being who you are. 

Because community isn’t built on titles or public posts. 

It’s built on people who care deeply, even when they choose to love from the background for a while.