The other evening, my husband Jake sent me a hesitant text while he was working upstairs, asking if he could use one of his birthday coupons. This particular coupon, which I created as a little gift, offered him a “get out of jail free” pass for those inevitable moments when life gets tough or he makes a mistake. We exchange these tokens every few months, and they have truly strengthened our relationship. It’s like a lifeline for us during the chaotic journey of parenting.
Honestly, Jake was in dire need of that quick forgiveness at that moment. He had been going through a challenging few days, and despite his best intentions, he had fallen short on helping with household chores and had stopped communicating about important matters. Normally, I would express my frustrations to him directly, but with everything I’ve been balancing lately, I lost my cool and unleashed a few colorful words.
When he texted me, I was having a breakdown downstairs, and I quickly found the envelope of his birthday coupons. “Consider it redeemed,” I replied through my tears. As I looked up, there he was, standing right in front of me. We embraced, and I found myself sobbing into his sweater. He looked deeply into my tired eyes and offered the reassurance I desperately needed: “You have a lot going on, my love. It’s okay to let it all out. I forgive you. I love you.” Cue the waterworks again.
I’m utterly exhausted. Motherhood can be relentless at times. Even with a fantastic partner who genuinely tries to be a good teammate, I often feel like I’m on this chaotic ride alone. Sure, Jake has had his learning curves in our journey towards shared parenting, and while I wish he was as meticulous as I am, he consistently puts in a solid effort—about 90% of the time.
Yet, even with that level of support, I struggle to fully relax and trust that I’m not carrying the load alone. There are just too many responsibilities swirling around me. Each time Jake helps, new tasks seem to pop up in their place. The mental weight of motherhood is still very real, despite his efforts.
To be candid, it’s hardly surprising. Chronic sleep deprivation makes me feel like my brain has been replaced with cotton candy. I often have multiple cups of coffee coursing through my veins, and reminders scribbled on my hands that I know will vanish from my memory. Since starting antidepressants recently, sleep has been elusive, and I’m wide awake at night, consumed with my never-ending to-do list.
Oh, that never-ending list. It’s a relentless barrage of birthdays, appointments, therapy sessions, managing bills, grocery runs, household chores, and more. It’s as irritating as it is exhausting, and I can never seem to complete it all.
I could delegate some of these responsibilities, and at times I do. But the sheer magnitude of it all often leaves me paralyzed, unable to ask for help. I find myself in a fog, knowing I need support but forgetting the moment I should reach out.
In an effort to alleviate some of this stress, Jake and I recently relocated our family across the country to be closer to relatives. We were racing through life in a city where we could only afford one car and a small townhouse, and my mental health was deteriorating under the strain. After my main freelance work ended, I was desperate for a new job, but without childcare, I was left managing the kids nearly 24/7.
You can guess how that played out.
By moving, we hoped to slow down and ease our financial burdens. While Jake’s parents are incredibly supportive, they too have their own commitments that limit their availability. Though childcare is cheaper here, options are still limited. Financial struggles persist, and stress seems to multiply. It feels like something has to give.
And it did.
Those spinning plates? I dropped them all after being diagnosed with complex PTSD this past year, culminating in an emergency room visit last month. As it turns out, the stress of motherhood can exacerbate panic disorder symptoms.
Therapy has been a great help, and my antidepressants are making life feel more manageable. My husband is also taking steps to seek counseling for the first time and is learning to recognize when he needs to step up. I’m getting better at asking for help and allowing myself to take breaks.
The journey is tough, but I’m making progress.
The hardest lesson I’ve learned is that no one hands you a life raft; you often need to seek it out yourself. As mothers, we tend to prioritize our children and partners before considering our own needs. It takes conscious effort to ensure there’s room on that raft for ourselves. I wish it weren’t the case, but it is.
You might be wondering if there’s a silver lining to this experience. There is, but it’s not easy to digest for an already weary mom. If you’re willing to confront your feelings of overwhelm and advocate for your needs, you will cultivate a resilience that lasts far beyond the first eighteen years of motherhood. This isn’t about becoming a supermom; rather, it’s about learning to prioritize yourself—a concept that may feel strange at first but becomes essential over time.
Amidst the chaos of chores, sleepless nights, and endless responsibilities, I’ve come to realize I deserve space to think beyond my to-do lists. I deserve love and support on my parenting journey. I deserve rest when I’m drained. And damn it, I deserve to give myself as much grace as I’ve extended to my husband.
In Summary
The mental load of motherhood can feel like a heavy burden, even with a supportive partner. It’s crucial to recognize that while seeking help may feel daunting, prioritizing our own needs is essential for well-being. By advocating for ourselves and allowing for moments of vulnerability, we can foster resilience that enriches our parenting journey.
Keyphrase: mental load of motherhood
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