When It All Becomes Too Much

I didn’t even see it coming. One minute I was juggling dinner, school forms, and laundry, nodding along to my husband's story about his day — and the next, I felt like I was sinking. Not dramatically. Not all at once. But slowly, quietly — like the tide creeping up when you're not paying attention.

It starts small: letting texts go unanswered, brushing off calls, pulling away from conversations. Telling yourself you’re just “tired,” or “busy,” or “in a mood.” But then suddenly you're standing in the middle of your kitchen with a full dishwasher, a crying toddler, and a husband asking what's for dinner — and you feel...nothing. Or worse, everything.

The guilt, the pressure, the constant mental load — it just builds. As a mom, you’re supposed to be the glue. As a wife, the support system. As a woman, everything else in between. But what happens when the glue starts to crack? What happens when you don’t have anything left to give — not to your kids, not to your partner, not even to yourself?

I started pulling back. Not intentionally. I didn’t wake up and decide to withdraw from my life. It just felt like the only way I could breathe. Like being alone was the only place I didn’t feel like I was failing someone.

And yet, withdrawing only made me feel more isolated — which, of course, added another layer of guilt. It’s a vicious cycle. You're drowning in responsibilities, then you withdraw, and then you hate yourself for doing that too.

But here's the truth I'm starting to sit with: it’s okay to step back. It’s okay to fall apart a little. It doesn't mean you're broken. It means you're human. It means you're carrying more than anyone can see — and maybe, just maybe, it's time to stop carrying it alone.

I’m not writing this with some perfect ending, like “now I meditate daily and drink green smoothies and have figured it all out.” I haven’t. I’m still in the messy middle. Still figuring out how to ask for help. Still learning how to speak up before I shut down.

But I guess this post is my first step. A small one. A real one.

If you're feeling this way too — overwhelmed, invisible, tired in your bones — just know you’re not alone. Even if you’ve pulled away. Even if it feels like you can’t explain it. I see you. I am you.

And we're going to find our way back. One honest moment at a time.