Mentally Tired: The Quiet Struggle of Motherhood

I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but if you’re mentally exhausted from motherhood—you’re not the only one.

There’s a kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. A quiet heaviness that builds when you’ve been holding it all together for too long. Mentally managing the grocery list, the school emails, the sibling arguments, the emotional needs of little hearts, the forgotten permission slip… while still trying to remember who you are underneath it all.

Motherhood is beautiful. But if I’m being honest, it can also be mentally and emotionally brutal.

I’ve spent years trying to be the glue—keeping everything moving, everyone ca
red for, every detail remembered. But somewhere along the way, I realized I’d stopped checking in on myself. I was functioning, yes. But not fully living.

The truth is, mental health doesn’t always scream for attention. Sometimes it whispers in the background:

• “You’re snapping more often lately.”

• “You feel disconnected from the people you love most.”

• “You’re going through the motions, but your mind feels cloudy.”

• “You’re lonely, even though you're never alone.”

That’s where I found myself recently. And it wasn’t one moment that brought clarity—it was the slow buildup of many little moments that made me finally pause.

Motherhood didn’t break me, but I’ll be honest: it’s worn me down in ways I didn’t expect.

And for those of us who carry grief alongside motherhood, it adds another invisible layer. There’s the version of you that mothers the living, and the version that carries a quiet ache for the one you can’t hold. That kind of duality—joy and sorrow living side by side—can be so mentally disorienting. You can be deeply grateful and still deeply tired.

So this month, I’m giving myself permission to care again—not just for my kids, but for me. I’m creating tiny spaces in my day to breathe, to journal, to drink the water I keep forgetting, to move my body, to pray, to pause. Not to become a better mom, but to feel more human again.

This isn’t about a big fix. This isn’t about “getting it all together.” It’s about recognizing when you need to soften your pace. When you need to be a little less available to everything and everyone else, and more available to your own mental and emotional well-being.

Because the truth is: we don’t talk about this enough. We don’t talk about the mental load. The overstimulation. The guilt. The pressure. The identity loss. The constant self-editing we do to keep it all “together.”

So let me say this out loud for both of us: You can love your family deeply and still feel overwhelmed. You can be grateful for your life and still need space. You can show up for everyone else and still say, “But what about me?”

That’s not selfish. That’s honest. And honestly? That’s where healing begins.

If you're feeling mentally stretched thin lately, you're not failing. You're just a human mother, carrying more than most people can see. And it’s okay to lay some of it down.

Even if it’s just for today.