There are things you expect to tire you out, to wear you down, as you work through the days and the years.

The hours when they run long.

The push to meet deadlines.

The intensity of deliverables with high pressure outcomes, like the grant that keeps you and a few or dozens others employed.

Then there are the things no one seems to mention. Not until you’re in it. And even then, only in sacred spaces—the brief confessional of connection. Where maybe you let the mask slip. Where maybe the mentor, the confidante shows a crack so you can too.

The social drain of “stage” presence.

The fatigue following facilitation.

The emotional labor of the empathetic. Of being present for others in their fears and anxieties—even as you hold your own closely.

The tension of holding authenticity, awareness, and reassurance in uncertain times.

But there is something else. There has to be for you to persist. To keep coming back, despite the tax.

The satisfaction of success, or even just a heartfelt “well done.”

The privilege of trust.

The courage of connection.

The knowledge—or at the very least hope—that you showed up in a way that let someone release a little bit of their load.

Think of the a blade. The tool that’s most effective when sharp. The process to create that state requires shaving layers from an edge. Sometimes the friction that seems like it’s wearing you down is actually making you ready for what’s ahead.