That's not our work.

We're not tired. We're carrying too much.

Taraji said it for all of us: “I’m tired.”

During The Color Purple press tour, she broke it down. The numbers weren’t adding up. The “math wasn’t math’ing”. And the pattern was too familiar. “I’m just tired of working so hard,” she said. “I’m tired of hearing my sisters say the same thing over and over.”

And I felt that. Not just because I understand the toll of the industry personally, but Taraji and I also come from the same place.

Prince George’s County. A place where doing well is expected. Where a federal government job is (or at least, was) the gold standard of success. Stability is the norm. And if you’re not careful, you start applying the mindset of a system built on predictability to industries—like Hollywood—where predictability doesn’t exist.

I know because I did it. I spent 15 years as a publicist in Hollywood. I was on the Think Like a Man campaign when I first encountered Taraji. I worked with actors, directors, and industry executives. And I saw, up close, how the standout red carpet moments—the ones that make everything look effortless—are only a fraction of the work.

The real work? The behind-the-scenes negotiations, the exhausting cycles of proving your worth, the constant push to justify what should already be yours? That’s the part that wears you down.

And I know that exhaustion personally.

I had a dream about Taraji this week. We were back at our high school (alumni from different years), rehearsing for a homecoming show. After rehearsal, we left together, talking casually about our transitions out of Hollywood. In the dream, I told her: “I’m helping make it easier for people to find their work.”

And that’s when it clicked. That’s what we really want: to do our work.

We’re Not Tired. We’re Carrying Too Much.

I know what it’s like to be bone tired. To feel like no amount of sleep will fix it. I’ve burned out—twice. I’ve left jobs. And at my lowest point, I wondered if I even wanted to be here anymore.

That was my wake-up call.

The enemy was trying to take me out.

But what I learned in that season is this: It’s not our work itself that exhausts us—it’s the weight of doing other people’s work.

I thought I was aligned. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to do. But I wasn’t considering:

• The weight of doing my boss’s job.

• The weight of being a face of diversity and inclusion.

• The weight of educating people on things they should already know.

• The weight of showing up for people suffering under poor leadership.

And the thing about weight is—if you carry it long enough, you start to believe it’s yours.

I made myself an answer to problems that were never mine to solve. I said yes to too much. I carried responsibilities that were never assigned to me.

And somewhere along the way, I started believing that work has to be this hard.

But hard work is a curse. The blessing of the Lord makes rich, and He adds no painful toil to it.

We were never meant to live in a constant state of striving. That’s the world’s system, not God’s. And to get free, we have to change our thinking—turn away from the belief that suffering is the price of success.

When we’re exhausted, it’s easy to confuse our (many) jobs with our actual work. And if it is robbing us of joy, peace, and rest—that’s not our work.

So, How Do You Find Our Work?

We talk a lot about doing work. But our real assignment is in becoming something.

We weren’t put here just to be busy. We were put here to become an answer to a problem.

If you don’t know what your work is, start here.

A Rest Ethic, Not Just Rest.

Jesus said it this way, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

That’s an invitation, but it’s also a command. Rest isn’t just about taking a break when we’re burnt out—it’s about learning to put things down before they ever become too heavy.

So let’s ask ourselves:

• What have we picked up that isn’t ours to carry?

• Where have we confused diligence and stewardship with painful toil?

• What would it look like to trust others to do their work?

We don’t have to keep living like this.

So put it down. Whatever it is.

That’s not your work.