How to Keep Fighting Without Falling Apart

What I’ve learned about staying in the work without losing myself.

I wrote this list because I’ve been there. That place where you’re doing all the things while slowly unraveling behind the scenes.

I know what it’s like to care so much that you forget to care for yourself. To mistake constant motion for impact. To think rest is something you earn after the world is fixed.

But here’s the truth: we need people who are well enough to keep going.

This list is for anyone who wants to stay in the fight. It’s part reminder, part permission slip, part quiet pep talk to read when everything feels like too much.

Because the goal isn’t just to win. The goal is to build a better world. And that vision includes you: Well. Joyful. Whole.

1. Set boundaries around your availability. You are not required to say yes to every ask or show up for every meeting. Say yes to what you can do well—and say it with your full heart. Let the rest go.

2. Pick your lane. You do not have to do everything. Are you an organizer? A designer? A storyteller? A connector? Great. Bring that to the table. We don’t need more burned-out generalists. We need skilled, focused humans doing what they’re best at.

3. Measure impact, not attention. Don’t confuse likes with liberation. Real work often happens off-camera.

4. Focus on long-term commitments. Join a local org or mutual aid group. Show up consistently, even in quiet seasons. Build relationships that last longer than a news cycle. Movement work isn’t a sprint—it’s a life.

5. Check in with yourself regularly. Ask, “What’s mine to carry today?” And just as important: “What’s not?”

6. Celebrate quiet wins. Did you make a phone call? Have a hard conversation? Support a friend? That counts. That matters. Just because it didn’t go viral doesn’t mean it didn’t ripple.

7. Pair action with care. Write the email, and then light the candle. Call your representative, and then call a friend. Let care follow effort like an exhale after a deep breath.

8. Grieve when you need to. There is real loss in this work. Let yourself cry. Name your heartbreak. Make space for your sorrow so it doesn’t turn to stone inside you.

9. Honor your evolution. It’s okay if what you care about shifts. It’s okay if your role changes. You’re allowed to grow, pivot, and reimagine your contribution.

10. Let others lead sometimes. Step back. Support. Amplify. Rest doesn’t always mean stopping; sometimes it means knowing when not to be at the center.

11. Track your small victories. Keep a “done” list alongside your to-do list. It’s easy to forget how much you’ve actually accomplished.

12. Avoid urgency culture. Not every email is an emergency. Not every issue needs your immediate reaction. Pause before responding—urgency often serves systems, not people.

13. Let yourself be a beginner. You don’t have to be an expert to care. Ask questions. Learn out loud. Being willing to grow is one of the bravest things we can do.

We don’t need perfect people. We need real people, doing what they can, in sustainable ways. This work is too important to burn out on. Let’s find a way to keep going, and to bring ourselves with us.

If this post resonated with you then I think you’ll really like my book, Democracy in Retrograde. It is part self-help, part political manifesto, and all heart. It’s for people who care deeply but don’t know what to do next. It’s about helping people who want to fight for democracy without losing themselves in the process.

The book is your choose-your-own-adventure guide to civic life. It’s got:

• Real stories of regular people making a difference

• Quizzes and exercises to help you find your lane

• Practical steps for building a civic life that’s sustainable

• A whole lot of encouragement, because the work is hard, but you don’t have to do it alone

Glamour called it “frank and funny” and said we make politics actually fun (yes, really). Kirkus called it “uplifting and useful.” Booklist called it “reassuring and hopeful.” And I call it the book I wish I had 20 years ago.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, disconnected, or just straight-up mad at the state of the world, this is your invitation to re-engage on your own terms.

P.S. I’m doing a subscription sale this week. Only $2.50 a month with a $30 annual subscription

If you’ve been meaning to become a paid subscriber, now’s the moment, your support makes this work possible. Plus, you’ll get access to all the archives, book giveaways, and the satisfaction of supporting independent women’s media.