Hitting the Wall
Motherhood is often painted as a fulfilling and magical journey and it can be. But beneath the surface, many moms silently shoulder a crushing load of expectations, both external and internal. The constant push to be everything to everyone can leave little room for emotional rest.
The Invisible Weight of Expectations
Balancing diaper changes, deadlines, and dinner while staying emotionally present is no small feat. Somewhere between school pickups and work meetings, the emotional toll starts to build.
Feeling like you must “do it all,” all the time
Guilt for craving space or help
The pressure to appear endlessly patient, grateful, and composed
The Body Keeps the Score
Burnout doesn’t just live in the mind. It shows up in subtle and not so subtle ways. These physical symptoms are messages, often ignored until they become too loud to overlook:
Constant fatigue, even after a full night’s sleep
Brain fog and forgetfulness
Short temper or emotional outbursts over small triggers
The Quiet Conversations Within
One of the most isolating parts of burnout is the internal narrative that keeps it hidden. When exhaustion becomes the norm, self compassion often takes a back seat:
“I should be able to handle this.”
“Other moms have it harder why am I complaining?”
“Maybe I’m just not strong enough.”
These thoughts don’t signal weakness they’re signs that it’s time to reassess, reconnect, and start being honest about the weight you’re carrying.
This is where the transformation begins: by acknowledging that surviving isn’t the same as thriving.
Owning the Burnout
For a long time, I thought pushing through was strength. I’d feel the cracks emotional exhaustion, irritability, the constant second guessing but I kept going. To admit I was tired felt like admitting I wasn’t enough. Turns out, denial doesn’t equal resilience. It just delays the fallout.
The shift started with one brutally honest conversation. A friend asked how I was doing, and instead of the usual “I’m fine,” I said the truth: “I’m not okay.” Saying it out loud broke something open. Not in a bad way, but in the way a frozen pipe finally thaws.
That sentence gave me permission to feel. To step back. To stop pretending I had it all figured out. It was uncomfortable. But it was also the first real moment of relief I’d felt in months. There’s power in naming the hard things and even more power in realizing you don’t have to carry them alone.
Rebuilding From Rock Bottom
Recovery didn’t start with a grand plan. It came in small, almost invisible acts. Drinking water right after waking up. Going outside for ten minutes before anyone else needed anything. Folding laundry with a podcast playing, not as a chore but as quiet background to a moment of peace. These weren’t magic fixes, but they anchored days that once felt impossible.
Boundaries became non negotiable. The kind you don’t explain, just hold. Shutting the door during work hours, even if there was guilt. Saying “not now” to constant small asks from the kids. Choosing silence over solving someone else’s emotional storm. It wasn’t easy, especially as a mom wired to overextend, but those lines saved what little energy was left.
Healing wasn’t a straight path. Some days felt like progress, others like full regression. There were tears in the closet, skipped breakfasts, and moments of wanting to vanish. But there were also laughs during bath time, glimmers of confidence in work meetings, and conversations that felt real again. That’s what rebuilding looked like messy, uneven, deeply human.
(More on this in our full piece on recovering from burnout)
Reclaiming Identity Beyond “Mom”
Somewhere along the line, hobbies turned into memories. The sketchpad stayed in the drawer. The garden grew wild. That voice inside the one that used to ask, “What do I actually love doing?” was drowned out by snack schedules and laundry piles.
Rediscovering personal passions wasn’t a lightning bolt moment. It started small. Ten quiet minutes with a journal. A slow walk with a podcast that wasn’t about parenting. Buying supplies for a forgotten craft and letting herself make something that didn’t need to be useful. It felt shaky at first, like learning to walk again. But the joy that followed? It stuck.
Self care used to come with guilt. Every bath or solo errand felt like a getaway with a side of shame. But here’s the truth: you can’t pour from an empty cup and pretending otherwise doesn’t make you more loving, just more depleted. Letting go of that guilt was messy, but worth it.
And then came solitude. Not loneliness, but a kind of intentional silence. Early mornings before the house woke up, or evenings spent outside on the porch. No agenda. No multitasking. Just space. Purposeful solitude became a proving ground a reminder she could enjoy her own company, outside any role. That space reconnected her not just to passions, but to personhood.
This wasn’t about becoming someone new. It was about returning to someone true.
Creating a Sustainable New Normal
Burnout recovery isn’t a one off breakthrough. It’s built in the small, often boring routines that keep you from sliding backwards. Weekly check ins are one of those overlooked tools. Just ten unfiltered minutes alone or with a trusted person to ask: Am I running on fumes? What actually helped this week? What quietly wrecked me? These quick audits catch the spirals before they go full tilt.
Then come the systems but the kind that flex. A rigid schedule looks great on paper until a toddler throws up or you hit a wall by Wednesday. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s rhythm. Think batching meals that don’t need a recipe, setting alarms for water, or carving out one nap length slot a week for something that makes you feel like a person.
And forget the myth of doing it all alone. A real support network doesn’t just say “let me know if you need anything.” It shows up. It trades school pickup shifts, sends the real talk text a day after you’ve gone quiet, and celebrates corkscrew wins like surviving bedtime without yelling. This kind of village isn’t built on favors. It’s built on mutual sanity.
If you’re in the thick of rebuilding, take a look at these deeper strategies in our full guide on recovering from burnout.
Final Note: Permission to Be Human
Balance looks tidy in headlines, but in real life, it’s messy and ongoing. It’s not a trophy you earn or a place you arrive it’s more like a rhythm you have to feel out as you go. Some weeks flow, others crash. That’s not failure. That’s life.
For moms especially, the pressure to hold everything together perfectly is constant. But perfection isn’t the goal presence is. Showing up as your whole, human self (tired, joyful, annoyed, hopeful sometimes all in one day) is not just enough, it’s powerful. It creates space for honesty, for connection, for real life to happen.
You don’t have to have it all figured out. Just keep showing up, with softness when you need it and strength when it matters. That’s balance, on your terms.
Community Engagement Manager
