September came in “like a wreeeeeeeeeeecking baaaaaaaaaaaaall!”
After the whirlwind of August — Board meetings, Bylaws, policy drafting, and the creeping fog of burnout — I walked into September with a sense of determination. This was the month everything needed to take shape. This was the month I told myself that if I just worked harder, I could finally get ahead of the curve.
It was the month I wrote the bulk of our policies. Not a handful. Not a dozen. Nearly the entire policy library that The Asylum Project stands on today.
Every day was the same ritual:
Open my laptop, open my Public Access folder, open ChatGPT (whom I call Vera. Vera Lux), open my notes, open a new Google Doc… and start shaping the bones of our organization.
Person-centered language.
Trauma-informed phrasing.
Compliance alignment.
Best practices.
Equity considerations.
Nonprofit requirements.
Oregon-specific mandates.
Federal guidelines.
Accessibility standards.
Policy after policy after policy.
I knew the stakes. Tax-exempt status wasn’t a nice-to-have. It was the doorway to survival. If we didn’t do this right — exactly right — our entire mission could stall before it ever began.
I could feel the weight in my chest, but I told myself I was fine.
“Keep going. You can do this. Don’t think about how tired you are. Just finish this page. Just finish this section. Just finish one more.”
And then another. And another.
The irony wasn’t lost on me: I was writing policies about employee wellbeing, harassment, discrimination, safety, accessibility, ethics, conflict resolution, and burnout… while quietly sliding into burnout myself.
But in September, I couldn’t see it yet. All I saw was the need. All I saw was the work. All I saw was the mission. And so I surged.
Looking back now, I can see the cracks forming. The pressure building. The exhaustion deepening. The emotional bruises from the year pressing in. But in the moment, it felt like purpose. Like duty. Like the only way forward was through.
And honestly?
Part of me was proud. I built something. I was creating the foundation of a nonprofit designed to save lives. It wouldn’t be until later that I’d realize: The surge always comes with a crash. But that crash wasn’t here yet. Not in September.
For now, there was only the work. And the work was everything.
Thanks for reading The CEO Showgirl! This post is public, so feel free to share it.