A Letter to My Community...Where We've Been.

Dear EGF Family,

It’s been a while since you’ve heard from us, and I want to be honest about why.

This past year, I felt overwhelmed — by the world, by life, and by the constant need to be everything for everyone. As a Black woman, that weight often feels invisible but ever-present. People rely on you to be strong, to keep showing up, to hold it all together — even when you’re quietly falling apart. I was pouring into everything and everyone else, but I had stopped pouring into myself.

Somewhere along the way, I hit a wall. Burnout. Loss of motivation. And for the first time since starting The Elizabeth Gaye Foundation, I didn’t know what I wanted to do next. I carried the guilt of feeling that way, because this work means everything to me — but I also couldn’t ignore the truth: I was exhausted.

So, I stepped back.

Taking that pause wasn’t easy. I am hyper-independent and rarely ask for help, so slowing down felt uncomfortable at first. But I spent time with myself — reflecting, resting, and letting go of the belief that I had to do it all. What I learned (and am still learning) is that less is more.

One book that deeply changed me during that time was Less is Liberation by Christine Platt. It reminded me that peace doesn’t come from doing more — it comes from doing what truly matters.

And now, I’m clearer than ever about what matters to me and to EGF.

Our purpose remains the same: to pour into our community with care, compassion, and consistency. We are still here, still standing, and still serving. We’re returning to our roots — showing up in ways that truly align with who we are and what we value.

That means continuing our holiday meal drive, which has always been a labor of love and a reminder that none of us are in this alone — especially in times like these. And it means continuing to create space for healing and growth through our Mind Your Business mental health conference, which will be coming to Austin in 2026.

This new season for EGF feels different. I’m allowing myself to accept help. I’m doing the work I said I would do — no more, no less. I’m leading from a place of peace instead of pressure.

To our community: thank you for your patience, your love, and your belief in this work — even when I needed to step away. I hope my honesty reminds someone else that rest is not quitting. Sometimes, it’s the only way to begin again.

With love and renewed purpose, Bri

Founder, The Elizabeth Gaye Foundation