Ani’s Liberation Leave: Reclaiming My Time, Energy, and Sense of Self
By: Ani Stephenson
I learned recently there’s a version of burnout that doesn’t look like collapse. Instead, it looks like competence.
I was doing everything right. Director-level title. Leading a team. Trusted voice in rooms that once intimidated me. But behind the veneer of efficiency was exhaustion that ran bone-deep. I wasn’t just tired. I was creatively detached. Efficient but uninspired.
There’s a “meta” layer to leadership no one really talks about or prepares you for: the politics, the self-monitoring, the quiet masking to make others comfortable. I was juggling it all. But it was costing me sleep, curiosity, and my peace. My anxiety lingered through the day, and I stopped waking up with enthusiasm for the work that once excited me.
That’s when I decided to take what I now call my liberation leave, an intentional pause to rest, reset, and redirect. Maybe to others it seemed like an escape. But in my heart, it was reclamation, a return to the basics of me.
Why I Needed Liberation
Responsibility, I learned, rarely comes with reward. It just begets more responsibility. Unlike pursuing my grad degree, I’ve been striving in the industry endlessly without a clear finish line, unsure what “enough” even looks like. All I know is that the harder I worked, the farther I felt from fulfillment.
By spring, I was pouring myself into hobbies — collaging, ballet, reading — hoping they’d refill my creative well. But even joy felt like work. The moment I knew something had to change came when minor miscommunications with once-friendly coworkers turned curt and snappy. The only thing I genuinely cared about anymore was pouring into my team. I had no energy left for the client work that used to light me up.
Meanwhile, the external pressures were peaking. It had become very normal to have a month filled with back-to-back new-business pitches, speaking engagements, major campaign launches, onboarding new teammates, and hiring additional support. This was all while navigating new leadership and the unraveling of processes. This doesn’t even include the month when I was also moving apartments.
It was too much, all at once.
I was crashing out, and losing sleep over it. I’d become foggy-minded, reactive rather than reflective. I couldn’t keep pretending this was sustainable.
Still, stepping away was terrifying. I feared losing momentum, visibility, and the stability that came with a steady income. I loved the lifestyle I’d built. But I knew I was seeking something far more critical: clarity, creative energy, and self-definition.
Living in Liberation
I didn’t neatly plan my leave like you would a sabbatical (oopsies!). It unfolded organically, guided by feasibility and how long I could live off savings.
I very quickly started working with a career coach (shoutout to Tom!) who helped me see myself clearly again. We talked about my values, my strengths, and how I could make an impact beyond a W-2. Around the same time, I took a breakthrough course with my favorite astrologer bestie, Chani, that gave me spiritual permission to trust my instincts again.
And I rested. Deeply.
I slept! I let my nervous system find a baseline again. I learned to have leisurely mornings — coffee, breakfast, a book, maybe a joint — without urgency. I moved my body through contemporary dance and Pilates. I soaked up Chicago’s summer: parks, coffee shops, happy hours, and long walks by the lake with friends.
And slowly, I started remembering my dreams, both literal and metaphorical.
But this liberation wasn’t linear. The first two weeks, I had nightmares. Every. Single. Night. My body was so conditioned to a state of high alert that, even in stillness, it tried to maintain a state of chaos. Rest didn’t feel safe yet.
I also wrestled with guilt, the voice that whispered I wasn’t being productive enough. That voice, I realized, was my best self-critic and internalized capitalism, a byproduct of white supremacy culture convincing us that rest must be earned. But rest isn’t indulgence. It’s repair.
In this repair, I found I’m more than the quantity of what I produce. There’s power in disappearing from the public eye for a while to crawl into a cave and emerge full of life, sharper, stronger, ready for what’s next.
What Liberation Taught Me
Liberation taught me to trade external validation for internal alignment.
I learned that my worth doesn’t need to be proven through constant output. That boundaries aren’t barriers (a concept!), but rather an embodiment of self-preservation so that I can pour into others sustainably when my own cup is full.
It taught me to be radically honest about my bandwidth. I can do a lot, but I no longer want to do it all. I want to control how I spend my days, show up fully in my relationships, and live with more presence than performance. The yogi within is so proud.
And maybe the most liberating realization of all: there’s a different way to lead and live that doesn’t hinge on the 9-to-5. Is it less stable? Sure, and it scares me. But if we’re honest, stability has always been a thin veil, especially in this dumpster fire world.
I’m the last person to shit on staying in a traditional job. But I’ve learned there’s also nothing wrong with leaving one, even without a fully formed plan, if what you’re seeking is yourself. Or a little bit of magic.
Redirecting Energy and Focus
During my liberation leave, I realized my energy wasn’t gone; it’d been misdirected. Once I stopped trying to fit myself into frameworks that no longer matched who I was, I could see where that energy wanted to go.
That clarity gave rise to something new: Risewell, a production company.
What began as an aspirational creative outlet evolved into a full-fledged vision, a space dedicated to storytelling, culture, and collaboration. It’s where I channel the same strategic brain that once built brand campaigns, but toward stories that move people and mean something.
This redirection wasn’t a detour from my professional path. I think it’s a natural evolution of it. Liberation didn’t take me off course. It reminded me of what course I was meant to be on.
Returning with Intention
When I chose not to move forward with certain opportunities — like a franchise path I’d once pursued — it wasn’t hesitation. It was alignment. I didn’t want to keep climbing ladders I had no interest in reaching the top of.
Now, I’m approaching my career and creativity differently. Still ambitious, but without urgency. Still driven, but by clarity rather than fear.
I resonate deeply with what Brianna Pastor said, “I exist in a space now that simply cannot tolerate anything that requires me to abandon myself in any way.”
“I exist in a space now that simply cannot tolerate anything that requires me to abandon myself in any way.”
An Invitation
Liberation leave doesn’t have to be about leaving everything behind. It’s about making space to return home to yourself.
If you’ve been feeling restless, foggy, or misaligned, maybe it’s not burnout. Perhaps it’s your inner self asking for a break, a big, belly-deep, and grounding breath.
Ask yourself: If you paused long enough to listen, where would your energy want to go?
