My children are currently in their rooms, eagerly awaiting my completion of work, as I serve as their gateway to the world beyond our home. My daughter is fascinated with dollar store beauty hacks, while my son requires a lift to his friend’s house.
Tonight, my partner is joining us for dinner, and just a few days ago—when I felt much more refreshed—I enthusiastically proposed the idea of a family feast featuring our favorite summer dishes that I would prepare, naturally.
Yesterday was a day off for me, and I quickly realized how desperate my home was for a good cleaning after allowing my kids to spend time with our two dogs. My roots were showing, which really bothers me; gray hair makes me feel washed out, and every time I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I’m confronted by a stranger.
As we were down to our last roll of toilet paper, I began jotting down a list of essentials (which turned into a comprehensive inventory) and then launched into a cleaning frenzy until I was so hungry that I had to step out for food to avoid losing my temper.
After putting away the groceries and feeling utterly exhausted from the day ahead, I was on the verge of tears. I despise reaching this point—when even a simple task like mowing the lawn or paying a bill pushes me to my limits.
I’ve trained myself to believe that I deserve to play catch-up whenever I fall behind. After all, I chose to take Friday off and didn’t accomplish anything substantial. Except, actually, I did. I spent my “mental health day” pruning branches that had needed attention for a year, whacked weeds, got an oil change, took my kids to gather their friends, and even treated them to ice cream. Then, I finally replaced the burnt-out light bulbs and shampooed the carpets.
I crashed hard after an evening out with my partner, filled with dinner and intimacy—an evening I merely wanted to survive because I had overexerted myself that week and couldn’t even enjoy it.
Now, I yearn to take my kids out for activities that bring them joy. I want to prepare a lovely dinner for us since I enjoy cooking and it’s been ages since we all sat down together. I wish to share intimate moments with my partner because I truly value that connection.
Yet, all signs today indicate that I am on the brink of burnout—at this very moment, I just want to bury my head under a pillow and tune everyone out.
This isn’t the way life should feel.
I should’ve used my time off on Friday to recharge from life’s demands, which was the very purpose of taking the day for myself. Instead, my tendency to be a martyr took over, convincing me that I could manage errands, chores, and running my kids around rather than taking those few hours I truly needed to unwind with a book or enjoy my yard’s flowers.
I keep adding more to my plate and saying “yes” instead of pausing to assess how I’m feeling, believing it’s the right course of action.
No one is demanding this from me. In fact, my kids and partner prefer the version of me that isn’t burnt out and stressed—a version that doesn’t snap when they ask me where the ketchup is. They want me to relax and cherish our time together.
A few years ago, I realized that I didn’t have to shoulder everything alone, as it’s impossible to feel happy and healthy if I do. Yet the gap between understanding this and applying it is vast.
There’s no room for my own interests when I’m constantly preoccupied with keeping the house pristine. I can’t juggle work, my kids’ social lives, and their needs without feeling overwhelmed.
I can’t truly look forward to spending time with my partner when I’m exhausted and have committed to a social gathering when all I genuinely need is a night to myself.
No one will mind if we order a pizza instead of me sweating away in the kitchen, especially during summer when we could be grilling meats and vegetables or making a fresh salad that requires hours of prep.
One individual cannot satisfy all the needs and demands of their children, partner, job, and household and still expect to have anything left for themselves.
So why do we keep doing this? Why do we believe this day or week will somehow be different? Why do we feel guilty for taking a day for ourselves or clearing our schedules? Why do we think running on empty is synonymous with being a superhero?
I think I understand: the mere thought of catching up is draining, and we fear that if we don’t do it all, who will? Certainly not the people in our lives who seem far happier because they don’t sweat the small stuff.
But you know what? Living this way doesn’t make us better.
Had I taken that Friday to reset as intended, I would have been in a better place today. I wouldn’t feel irritated with my kids. I wouldn’t feel so stretched thin. I would be excited to cook dinner and spend time with my family this evening, rather than feeling like a wilted dishcloth.
It’s essential to remember that when my wants and needs are pushed aside, everything else suffers. Constantly saying “yes” to others while neglecting yourself breeds bitterness and fatigue for a reason. Keep this in mind the next time you consider taking on more than you should.
I know it’s challenging, but we must normalize the idea of moms prioritizing their own needs and letting go of the notion that we exist solely to pick up everyone’s pieces.
I’m committed to breaking this cycle because I’m simply a happier person when I do. And that’s more than enough of a reason.
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Summary
Balancing the demands of family, work, and personal needs can lead to burnout, especially for mothers. While the instinct to say “yes” to everyone is common, it’s crucial to prioritize self-care to maintain happiness and health. Recognizing the need for personal time and resisting the urge to shoulder all responsibilities can significantly improve our well-being and relationships.