Hyper-independence isn’t strength. It’s just survival.

Blessed Good Friday —

Have you ever noticed how burnout makes you believe that YOU are deficient because YOU are the one struggling? Like everyone else has the answers except for you?

It’s one of the cruelest lies of our time.

American culture has always glorified the idea of independence, for better and for worse. We’re told to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. To not need help. To take pride in doing it all on our own.

But here’s the truth: that kind of individualism is not just unrealistic—it’s harmful.

Especially for Black women, hyper-independence is a survival mindset—rooted in generations of trauma. From slavery to segregation to the everyday discrimination, misogynoir, and microaggressions we still face, we’ve learned to rely on ourselves because we couldn’t always rely on anyone else.

In many Black communities, independence is taught not just as a virtue— but as protection. Vulnerability has often been weaponized against us, so we’ve learned to protect ourselves by trying not to need anyone. That “I got it” reflex? It didn’t come from nowhere. And don't get me wrong - sometimes it is necessary adaptation.

But when society tells you that your value lies in how much you can carry, it becomes second nature to equate burnout with failure— and desire for connection with weakness.

That kind of mindset can devolve. It stops being just about personal strength— and becomes isolation. That’s how burnout starts to whisper, "You’re on your own." "This is on YOU."

And here’s the part I want to say clearly:

That kind of individualism is not biblical.

And for Black women especially? That distortion is rooted in a violent history.

Our ancestors were ripped from communal, spirit-centered societies and thrown into a system that devalued human souls and glorified profit over people.

Similarly, somewhere along the way, our concept of a personal relationship with God morphed into something else entirely. From divine intimacy to hyper-independence and self-reliance.

Some of this came from cultural and spiritual assimilation. Some of it derived from trauma and 'church-hurt.'

But it didn't just cause a cultural shift. It turned into a spiritual distortion.

This distortion is still shaping our minds and habits. Still shaping the way we see rest, community, and purpose.

How do I know this is a spiritual distortion? What does the Bible actually have to say on this topic? 

... even in the opening line of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus reminds us: we are not in this alone. It’s not “my Father,” it’s “our” (, NIV). We are called to belong to each other as we belong to God.

The Bible is full of reminders that spiritual growth is communal work.

But the system we live in? It teaches us the opposite. It celebrates the woman who does it all alone—until she breaks.

That’s why I’m always telling my clients to find a healthy community and develop their village. Not perfect. Not performative. But rooted in love, truth, and accountability. And be mindful about where to be vulnerable and where to use boundaries.

Because, yes—a personal relationship with God is essential. Some solitude is mandatory.

But faith was never meant to happen without others in the midst.

And I didn’t fully realize just how deeply I had internalized the opposite belief—until I experienced the shift for myself. 

I've mentioned that burnout was a long journey— but the pandemic is when the fire finally peaked.

I know I’m not alone in that.

At first, it was the stress that broke me. The chaos. The uncertainty. The childcare desperation while working from home. Only sometimes getting out for an on-call shift with scrubs and an N95 mask. But over time, something shifted in my spirit: being around others started to feel more like a burden. A distraction. An inconvenience to my productivity.

I had things to do. Things to fix. Things to prove.

And so, like many high-achieving women, I pushed through alone— telling myself that was what strength and resilience looked like.

But that wasn’t strength. That was survival mode. That was disconnection.

I’ll never forget the moment that changed everything.

I had finally returned to my church community in person after months of isolation. Honestly, it felt like just one more thing on the list.

I had a wiggly toddler in tow, and like so many moms, I was balancing a bag full of snacks, paper, and crayons—anything to keep him entertained and quiet for a little while. Just getting there was exhausting.

But then… I was there. With them. Singing. Praying. Laughing. Hugging.

I look over at my son... he was mesmerized by his Daddy's preaching.

Watching him so still, so open—it mirrored what was softening in me.

It wasn’t instant. It was slow, like a thaw after a long winter. But I felt it.

And the truth hit me like a gentle wave:

I had been burning out trying to carry a cross I was never meant to bear alone.

I had stopped abiding in the very thing God gave us to survive in a broken world— a loving community.

That return cracked open something in me. I found laughter again. I found rest again. But most importantly—I stopped believing the lie that I had to carry it all alone.

But if I hadn't gone back, who knows when I would have found healing?

Burnout doesn’t resolve itself with time—it deepens in silence. The longer you wait to address it, the harder it becomes to remember what peace even felt like.

You're still here. Still reading. Still feeling something stir inside of you. That’s not by accident—something in you is whispering that this moment matters. That NOW is the time to pause, pay attention, and move differently. It's an invitation into healing.

God is not calling you to hold it all together. He’s inviting you to release what was never yours to carry alone.

You don’t have to hit rock bottom to say: “Enough.” And even if you're already there, there’s still a path forward. Let this be your turning point.

Here are three ways to begin shifting back toward sacred community:

🌟 Reconnect intentionally. Think of one person in your life—someone you trust but haven’t reached out to in a while. It could be a sister-friend, a mentor, a spiritual sibling, even someone at church who always says, “Let me know if you need anything.” This week, reach out and share something real. Not just updates or surface talk, but a joy, a frustration, or a need. Let them see a part of you that usually stays protected. Connection doesn't require a crowd—it starts with a choice. When you show up in vulnerability, you create space for real intimacy. That’s how we start building the kind of community we’re craving. And if you have nobody in your life who you trust - think about where you could find them.

🌟 Assess your community. Look at where you’re plugged in. Your church, your small groups, your group chats, your workplace, even your social media. Ask yourself: Are these places watering my spirit or depleting me? Are these relationships calling me deeper into God—or deeper into performance and perfectionism? Don’t confuse presence with nourishment. Community is not about being surrounded by people—it’s about being in spaces that are sacred, healing, and aligned. Quality over quantity. You deserve a community that sees you, holds you, and challenges you to rest and grow. And if you don’t have one yet, it’s okay to seek out something new. You’re not being disloyal. You’re being discerning.

🌟 Practice being led, not just productive. Start your day with a moment of stillness. Ask: “God, where would you have me show up today?” Not just in tasks— but in relationships. What community is God calling you to serve? That is where your purpose is. Sometimes it's a neighbor, a friend, or a family member. Other times it's the hard-to-love people or the overlooked groups we scroll past. Surrender the urge to center productivity and performance. Instead, practice the posture of presence—trusting that when you show up where God calls, even small acts become sacred. Community isn’t just a tool for coping. It’s how we reflect the very nature of God.

This is the kind of restoration we walk through in my coaching program.

If what you’ve read here stirred something in you—if you recognized your own patterns of isolation, exhaustion, and over-functioning—I want you to know there’s another way. In my 1:1 coaching program, I help high-achieving women of faith slow down enough to actually hear from God again. We don’t just talk about burnout—we dismantle the root beliefs and habits that keep you stuck in it.

We explore the personal and spiritual implications of burnout, and I help you reconnect to a sense of clarity that isn’t driven by pressure, but by peace. We look at your patterns, your routines, your values, and the ways your current way of living might be out of alignment with God’s vision for your life. Then, we begin the slow, intentional process of building something better—together.

You’ll receive spirit-led mindset coaching, accountability, and gentle but strategic challenges that stretch your capacity to rest, reconnect, and rediscover purpose in a way that honors both your calling and your capacity.

I’ve distilled what took me years of spiritual wrestling, professional insight, and personal healing into a framework that can support you right now. You don’t have to walk this alone.

If you are a high-achieving woman of faith who’s tired of feeling like you have to do it all alone, and you're ready to come back to a Spirit-led path—

📩 Reply FREEDOM to book your free Discovery Call. Spots are limited— and this could be the conversation that changes everything.

In this free session, we’ll uncover what’s driving your burnout—and map your path back to peace, purpose, and clarity.

You were never meant to carry this alone. You don’t need to do more. You need to return to what God already gave you—community, clarity, and rest. The invitation is open. The next move is yours.

With love and power,
Dr. Devin
liberatedpathscoaching.com 

👋🏾 P.S. This space is sacred—and it’s growing. We’re building toward more interactive ways to walk this path together—think live touchpoints, group sessions, and space for real conversation and accountability. You’ll be the first to know when that next layer of community opens up. Stay close.