I never planned to become a community leader. One day I was just a 33-year-old graphic designer in Lubbock, chugging coffee and tweaking vector paths. Next thing I know, I’m running a local spiritual discussion group. It sounded noble. In reality, it’s a masterclass in exhaustion. I’m not a guru, just someone who accidentally got volunteered into the deep end and is now trying not to sink.

There’s a psychology concept called “empathy fatigue.” When you’re constantly holding space for other people’s crises, your nervous system starts treating every message like a personal emergency. You lose the ability to switch off. It’s not just tired—it’s a systemic overload.

Tarot captures this perfectly with the 8 of Swords. You’re blindfolded, surrounded by blades, completely trapped by expectations you didn’t even choose. As a new parent trying to figure out how to raise my kid with a spiritual framework without imposing dogma, I keep running into that exact energy. I want them to explore freely, but leadership demands I model boundaries I haven’t even mastered myself.

The burnout hits when you realize the “light” you’re supposed to carry is actually a torch that’s slowly consuming your own reserves. I’ve been reading a lot lately—everything from cognitive load theory to Jungian shadow work—and it’s clear: leadership isn’t about being endlessly available. It’s about knowing when to step back before the crown crushes you.

Anyway, just sharing my perspective. If you’re leading a community and feel like you’re drowning in other people’s spiritual crises, you’re not failing. You’re just experiencing a very human limit. Pass the torch before it burns you out completely.