A Reflection on Workplace Wellness and the Power of Pausing

There was a time when work stopped at 5 PM. Once you left the office, you were unreachable. No laptop. No email. No after-hours pings. If it wasn’t on the 11 PM news, it could wait until morning.

But today, the lines are blurred. Technology makes us accessible at all hours. Competition is fierce, expectations are high, and the pressure to stay “on” never seems to end. In too many places, the expectation is to keep performing—no matter what’s happening behind the scenes.

That’s why a recent session I attended at work—“Fostering Mental Health and Well-Being in the Workplace”—struck a chord. It wasn’t just another checkbox training. For the first time in a long time, I heard meaningful discussion not just about what employees can do to stay well, but also about the responsibility leaders have in creating environments where well-being isn’t performative—it’s real.

As May—Mental Health Awareness Month—comes to a close, I’ve found myself reflecting on what workplace wellness really looks like in practice. And how often we ignore our own signals until we’re forced to stop.

After the session, I went to the cafeteria at work to grab lunch. On my way back, I noticed a row of massage chairs the company had set up in the hallway—unexpected and inviting, tucked between the usual bustle of office life. I paused—just for a second. And I sat for ten minutes. That’s all it took to reset my body and re-center my mind. It gave me the energy and clarity I needed to finish the day not just physically present—but mentally engaged. The irony is: I almost skipped it. For no good reason other than habit. And that’s the trap—so many of us are running on autopilot, racing through days that demand more than ever.

It also reminded me of a time when pausing didn’t feel like an option.

A few years ago, my uncle—who is my best friend and my hero—was diagnosed with dementia. I immediately moved him in with me and became his primary caretaker. It was a devastating, overwhelming season of life. He had a series of mini-strokes, which led to many nights spent in the ER. Then I’d go home, change clothes, and show up to work as if nothing had happened. There were other days when I found quiet spaces in the hospital to take critical work calls, quietly pushing my own fear and exhaustion aside.

I didn’t feel like I could share what I was going through. The weight of being a senior Black woman in corporate America didn’t make it any easier. I carried it all, quietly, believing that strength meant silence. Sometime later, I confided in a colleague—someone I had grown close to—and told her I’d taken a particular call from the ER. She was stunned and said, “I wish you had told me. I would have supported you through that.”

That moment stayed with me. Because while I look back at that time with pride for persevering, I also wonder what the cost was—to my health, to my peace, to my sense of safety.

Here’s what I’ve learned, and what I hope we all take to heart:

To employees:

• You don’t need permission to prioritize your mental health.

• Even if the support feels performative—use it. You’re the one responsible for you.

• Learn to slow down before life forces you to. Ten minutes in a massage chair might seem small, but it could be exactly what you need to get through the day.

To managers and leaders:

• You don’t have to be Oprah. But you do need to be human.

• Your job isn’t just to manage tasks—it’s to lead people.

• Build the kind of trust where someone can say, “I’m not okay,” without fear. Because psychological safety is a performance tool, not a distraction.

Wellness in the workplace isn’t a luxury. It’s foundational. Because when people are well, they don’t just meet goals—they exceed them. They don’t just show up—they show up with purpose, presence, and power.

Let’s stop mistaking endurance for excellence. Let’s redefine what it means to lead—and to live—well.