How to build a community without burning out
Sometimes the rest IS the work
Behind every burst of growth is a season of rest that made it possible. The tulips blooming in my garden spent months underground. The trees now opening their new leaves needed their winter pause.
Rest isn't the opposite of growth—it's what makes growth possible.
In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, where headlines echo uncertainty and urgency, talking about rest can feel... indulgent. Shouldn't we be doing more? Staying alert? Pushing forward?
As we wrapped our quarterly strategy sessions in The Hive last month, I reminded our members to look at their plans in light of their full lives. After all, it doesn't do much good to have a successful community plan if you're miserable implementing it.
It’s also why I brought in Maegan Megginson to host a Radical Rest workshop for our community at the start of Q2.
Spring naturally brings fresh energy and new beginnings, but without intentional restoration as our foundation, even the most brilliant plans risk burning us out.
Building anything meaningful requires focused action and intentional restoration.
The Hidden Cost of “Always On” Leadership
As community builders, we prioritize connection—creating spaces where others feel seen, supported, and inspired. Many of us were drawn to this work because we care. Deeply.
But that orientation toward service can come at a cost. We convince ourselves that our communities need us constantly, that any pause might let someone down or suggest a lack of commitment.
During Maegan’s workshop, when we rated our ability to rest on a scale of 1–10, the answers were telling. Most landed between 2 and 7. Many admitted we’re worst at resting when we need it most—during busy seasons.
Why is it so hard to do something so vital?
Maegan reminded us of the narratives many of us absorbed early on—that rest is:
A reward to be earned after all tasks are complete
A sign of weakness or inadequate dedication
A luxury we can’t afford in a competitive world
One Hive member called it “the someday trap.” That belief that rest will come after the next milestone, the next launch, the next quarter.
But that someday rarely arrives.
Your Work Should Support You
After guiding us through our personalized rest menus, Maegan invited us to zoom out—to consider the bigger picture of why we work the way we do. That’s when she offered a line that made us all sit up a little straighter:
“Your work exists to support you—not just your audience or your bank account.”
It’s the kind of thing that sounds obvious—isn’t that why we started our businesses in the first place?
And yet, over time, we forget. We pour so much of ourselves into our work that it starts to feel like a living thing we’re responsible for—something we can’t step away from.
We lose sight of the fact that our work is supposed to nourish us, too.
Of course we prioritize our members, their experience, their growth. That’s the heart of what we do. But when our own wellbeing drops to the bottom of the list, we miss the point—and we start building systems we can’t sustain.
But Maegan pushed us further: What if we flipped the script?
What if your business could pay you to rest—not just with money, but with time, energy, and space? What if rest weren’t something we fit in after work, but rather built into the way we work?
Your members don’t need constant access to you. They need your best self—present, clear, and grounded when you do show up.
A depleted leader simply can’t sustain the clarity, creativity, or presence that community work requires over the long haul.
Leading Through Cycles, Not Constant Motion
I asked Maegan how she thinks about those inevitable tsunami seasons—when life and work both surge at once. Her response reassured me: not every wave of busyness needs to be avoided. It’s not a failure when “life is lifing.”
Just like in nature, there are seasons of acceleration and seasons of quiet. We don't need to expect constant peak performance to be making progress. Instead, sustainable growth honors the pauses, too—the deep breaths between the big pushes.
That’s why, after launches, I now build in lighter weeks—fewer calls, more space to reflect. That buffer gives me capacity when life throws its surprises (as it always does), so the whole business doesn’t unravel.
And it’s also why I designed The Hive this way: to flex with real life. Members can engage deeply or step back quietly and still feel supported. No pressure. No guilt.
This rhythm reflects a simple truth: we’re human, not machines. And our energy naturally ebbs and flows.
From “Should” to Sacred Practice
Old habits die hard. Even in a workshop devoted to rest, I caught myself calling it a “discipline”—as if it were another practice to perfect, another item to check off the list.
Maegan gently helped me reframe that impulse. What if rest isn’t something to master, but something to receive? Not a discipline, but a devotion. A sacred rhythm, not a rigid prescription.
And that shift doesn’t just benefit us. When we choose to rest, we model a different kind of leadership—one rooted in humanity, not hustle.
Kate Bowler captures this beautifully:
“We all face very real limitations—limited time, limited energy, limited resources, limited emotional bandwidth, and (if we’re being really honest) limited days. How will you live within all of that beautiful, limited humanity?”
Our need for rest is not a flaw—it’s part of being human. And if we want to create people-first spaces that actually feel good (for our members and for us), we have to embrace that humanity, not override it.
But we can’t create what we don’t embody.
In a productivity-obsessed world, our communities can become havens for wholeness.
Not mirrors of a stronger-faster-better culture that exhausts us—but spaces that honor our limits and make room for our lives.
That’s the path Maegan invited us to consider. And that’s what makes it so radical. In a culture obsessed with productivity and constant availability, communities rooted in rest become countercultural by design.
If we want members to feel permission to pause, to honor limits, to work in cycles—we have to lead that way first.
That’s why I always say: I want community leaders to build a community their members love—and a life they love to lead.
When we rest, we give others permission to do the same.
We remind each other that connection doesn’t require constant presence. That value isn’t measured by output. And that growth happens in the stillness as much as in the striving.
To creating space for renewal in our chronically busy world,
P.S. If you're interested in creating a sustainable community model that honors both growth and rest, our Spring Community Foundations cohort begins April 15th. We'll explore how to build engagement systems that don't require you to be “always on,” creating space for both you and your members to breathe.
There are just 15 spots total—and 12 remain. If this feels like the right next step, I’d love to welcome you in.
P.P.S. Want to hear the full Radical Rest workshop recording with Maegan Megginson? Reply to this email, and I’ll share it along with her excellent worksheet and resources. You can also check out her Deeply Rested podcast for more insights on this restorative approach to work and life.
What's one unexpected thing that's kept you engaged in a community long after you thought you might leave?
i love this post - how do i get more info about the 15 person community engagement group and i would love the recording you referred to -
thanks Laura, Cindy Fabico, LMHC, LMFT cindy.sue.price@gmail.com
Great post, Laura.
It’s true—community builders often see the immediate impact of their work, and they feel the love. The natural response is to keep ourselves necessary.
But we can easily forget that the core of a solid community culture is empowerment and ownership. And sometimes, our continued presence—however well-intentioned—can actually limit both.
When we’re always present, we may unintentionally reduce members' sense of agency. True community thrives when they feel it’s theirs.