The Mental Load of Motherhood: Why You’re So Tired All the Time

You’re brushing your teeth, and you’re already tired.

Not because it’s early.

Because in your head, you’ve already:

remembered the permission slip,
planned dinner,
noticed the empty milk,
worried about that email,
rescheduled tomorrow.

All before breakfast.

If this feels familiar, you’re carrying a lot of mental load.

Even if no one sees it.

Most of the work you do as a mother doesn’t look like work.

It looks like:

remembering,
anticipating,
noticing,
planning,
adjusting.

Over and over.

You’re the one who knows when the shoes are too small.
When the snacks are running low.
When the form is due.
When the appointment needs to be made.
When someone is about to melt down.

You’re running the system.

Quietly.

I used to think I was tired because I was doing too much.

The laundry.
The meals.
The errands.
The driving.

But that wasn’t it.

What exhausted me was everything happening in my head while I was doing those things.

The constant mental tabs open.
The background calculations.
The invisible checklists.

I could sit down for five minutes and still feel like I was “on.”

Because I was.

There’s a strange loneliness to this kind of tired.

You can be surrounded by people and still feel like you’re carrying everything alone.

Because you are.

Not physically.

Mentally.

You’re the keeper of the details.
The holder of the plan.
The one who remembers what everyone else forgets.

And when you get frustrated, it’s easy to feel guilty.

Why am I so irritated?
Why am I snapping?
Why does this feel so heavy?

Other people seem fine.

So you assume the problem must be you.

But the mental load of motherhood is real.

It’s not “just thinking.”

It’s responsibility.

It’s being the default manager of life.

You’re not just doing the work.
You’re making sure the work happens.

There’s a difference.

And it matters.

One afternoon, I remember standing in the kitchen, staring at the fridge, feeling completely drained.

I hadn’t done anything particularly hard that day.

No marathon cleaning session.
No big outing.
No crisis.

Just… everything.

All the small decisions.
All the small reminders.
All the small adjustments.

It hit me then:
I wasn’t tired from effort.

I was tired from holding.

Holding schedules.
Holding expectations.
Holding emotional weather.
Holding plans B, C, and D.
Holding everyone’s “don’t forget.”

All the time.

What makes this harder is that it’s mostly invisible.

No one thanks you for remembering.
No one notices the disaster that didn’t happen.
No one applauds the smooth-running day.

It just looks… normal.

So your work disappears into “how things are.”

And you quietly disappear into it too.

If this part about carrying everything quietly hit you, I went much deeper — and more personally — in a letter called “Decision Fatigue Isn’t Laziness.” It’s about what it feels like to be the one who’s always thinking five steps ahead, even when you’re exhausted.

If this reflection feels close to home, that letter might meet you in it.

I don’t have a perfect solution for this.

No color-coded planner.
No magical division of labor.
No “just delegate more.”

Real life is messier than that.

I just know this:

If you feel worn down in ways you can’t explain,
if you’re tired even when you “haven’t done much,”
if your brain never really rests —

it’s not because you’re dramatic.

It’s because you’ve been carrying more than most people realize.

Maybe today you still do the things.
Make the lists.
Hold the plans.

But maybe you also let yourself name it.

This is work.
This is effort.
This is weight.

And you’re allowed to feel it.

You don’t have to minimize it.
You don’t have to joke it away.
You don’t have to earn rest by collapsing.

You’re allowed to want mental quiet.
You’re allowed to want someone else to hold the map sometimes.

You’re allowed to be tired of being the one who remembers everything.

And still be a good mother.

And let that be enough.