The Overwhelm No One Ever Told You About (But Every Mom Feels)

Burnout shouldn't be the price of being "the glue" for good reason

It starts quietly.

It's you in that bed at the end of the day — that day of the tantrums, the work e-mails, the list of to-dos that will never get to-done, finally your eyes are shut. But your brain? It's sprinting. Did you order the wipes? And what's the deal with that pediatrician form? How did that day trip start? Oh, and also that thing your husband assured you he'd take care of, even though you're 99% sure that you'll have to call his attention to it at least three times?

Sound familiar?

It's the psychic weight of the world going silent. You're tired, but also doing mental calisthenics toward tomorrow's dinner, what's on the agenda where and how to write that awkward email to the teacher, the last time you sipped a glass of water that did not have a goose of ice cubes and a splurp of that LaCroix business.

You are all — you are the thinking and the planning and then the remembering and the feeling.

That is the invisible load. And the fact is, it's (quietly) breaking mothers.

You would never know it from an Instagram reel. You're not going to see it in a job posting. But behind those Pinterest-perfect birthday bashes and those well-stocked lunchboxes, moms are over-functioning. We're pumping our psychic energy into the cisterns of our families, with little recognition and payback.

And if you've been beating yourself up about your inability to hold it together while you're one unanswered email away from cracking — you are not "bad at this." You just have way too damn much on your plate.

So What Is That Invisible Load We're All Carrying?

The unseen labor is not just the stress itself but everything that informs that stress — all the planning, all the remembering, all the coordinating, all the organization — and the world doesn't see it and doesn't pay us for it.

It is the domestic labor that organizes houses and counsels friends, and so is mostly uncelebrated and invisible, because, even if it is constant, it isn't really on the to-do list.

Here is what's usually there:

• Mental logistics, you know all the schedules, where the school stuff, appts, bdays, a meal, and everything is in your head and not written down.
• Emotional Buffering: Your child's anxiety, your harried partner to mop up after, sibling conflicts to mediate — all while damming your irritation.
• Relational Maintenance: Keeping in touch with the extended family, keeping anniversaries and play-dates straight, tracking whose RSVP you have, thank-you lists.
• Preliminary Work: Realising we've run out of detergent when it comes to the last load. Getting the kids ready to put up next season's clothes. Studying the next great move.

And when you find yourself making sure you are managing a household like a stealth project manager — minus the frequent flier miles or the Starbucks gift cards or the bonuses or whatever, well, here you go! You are not insane.

And like I am being a hundred percent offensive to someone right now, they are kvetching on boards like r/Mommit and r/BeyondTheBump about just that: feeling like the default parent, the emotional sherpa, the invisible workhorse.

Real Talk: This Is What Burnout Looks Like

Let's skip the sugar-coating. So this is how that invisible burden plays out in real life:

• You have a breakdown about a sock that is missing — never mind that you do not actually give a hoot about the sock in the least but you are, see, in the sock, and it isn't like you get any sort of a break being the only living being in the universe who knows where in hell anything is in the stupid house.
• You forgo a school theme day entirely and mentally flog yourself all afternoon over "dropping the ball."
• You do your best to unwind and chill, but inside, at the back of your brain, you blow through the next five panic-attack-inducing days of logistics and prep.
• You daydream about checking into a hotel room … to sleep.

It's not weakness. It's overload.

And the hardest part? (And the vast majority of such efforts are not visible.) Not because your partner doesn't care, but because nobody has received the training — unless we're counting other moms — to perceive this labor, let alone to assign value to it.

No, You're Not Crazy (Or Lazy) — You're Not Throwing Enough

So, let's debunk some of the misinformation this bull is handing you:

• It's not just that you're sucking, it's because not in some perfect state of grace where you are bearing that load. You should be so lucky, so just stop it.
• That it's the worst to have to ask for help. False, false, and hell no.
• You are doing the labor of three people, and that labor is brutal and soul-crushing. You have no place feeling guilty — you ought to get credit.
• Agree with — don't praise with reservations.
• A plan that does not include you leaving family behind to get a breath.

Caitlyn's Pick: Real Tools (Because Bubble Baths Aren't Enough)!

When you're on the edge, self-care isn't selfish. It's essential. But it also has to be practical, opportunistic and pay off quickly. Here's your game plan:

🧠 Brain Dump + Delete

Dump your brain into a notes app or journal right before bed. Big, small, they just take it out. Then do two things:

FocusCategory: Just 1–2 Things Only You Can Do

The Pareto principle makes a cameo appearance here. (Unlike you, walking around like it owns the place.)

Find something you can do that nobody else can do—then do it like you mean it. Focus 99.999999% of your time and your energy on that one thing.

By dropping what's left, you can waste your time more efficiently, using it to actually get something done.

Delete or delegate the rest. Ruthlessly. Let your husband handle school drop-off, if he can. It wouldn't do now, today — it would wait.

🗣️ State the Load Out Loud

Say the invisible stuff. Literally. "I noticed we're out of toilet paper, I planned the meals for the week, I called the insurance company. I'm tapped. Are you capable of learning [activity] and doing well. It's not a micromanagement thing — it's sharing the freaking weight.

📆 Non-Negotiable "Me" Time

Put an hour on your calendar each week. Just consider it a doctor's checkup. Put it toward sleep, use it for walking, write with it, scream with it in your car — do whatever you can to keep your sanity. Defend it as if it's your job. Because it is.

👯‍♀️ Find Your People

Text a mom friend. Join a support group. Even a Reddit thread counts. Validation is therapy. Rejecting your nonexistent list when you're with someone who gets that it's nonexistent isn't going to solve the whole thing, but it can help make you human again.

My Parking Lot Breakdown (Or, the Day I Went to Pieces)

I cried in the parking lot of a grocery store a few months ago. Not the one tear thing — a full-bore ugly, "I can't do this" bawl. My baby was asleep in the car seat. My cart was half-loaded. And I'm out here shivering on this pavement, I'm holding this receipt I don't recall signing.

No one saw it happen. And that made it worse. Because I knew — I'd known for months, I was going through the motions of being invisible.

Two vows I made myself that morning:

1. I could name my burden.
2. I could stop pretending I was strong enough to lift it myself.

Bottom Line: You Can Let It Go

The next time you're dripping dead at a loss for words, take a deep breath and say to yourself: "I'm doing things behind the scenes that I can't even talk about, and I'm not taking the ball and running."

Let your house be messy. Let your inbox stay full. Let some other jerk drive them for a change.

You are not proving your worth by hanging on by the skin of your teeth. Your humanism, that's what you're claiming it is. And you're going to be tired, loud, looked after, everything and nothing, a mess and a hell of a mom!