I said “I’m tired” three times last Tuesday.
Once to my partner while unloading groceries.
Once to my kids while reminding them—again—about something they needed to handle.
Once to myself while staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror at 10pm.
Nobody heard me.
Not because they’re terrible people.
But because somewhere along the way, I became the person who just… handles it.
The appointments get scheduled.
The family logistics get managed.
The emotional temperature gets monitored.
And everyone—including me—just assumes that’s how it works.
Until the resentment starts building in places you didn’t know you had.
The invisible load nobody sees (but you feel everywhere)
You can have a partner.
You can have kids who are practically adults.
You can have a full house.
And still be the only one holding it all together.
Because here’s what nobody talks about:
It’s not just about doing the tasks.
It’s about being the one who remembers them.
The one who anticipates them.
The one who notices when things are about to fall apart, before anyone else even realizes there was something to notice.
That’s the invisible load.
And it’s exhausting in a way that has nothing to do with how much sleep you got last night.
It looks like:
Remembering the insurance renewal that’s coming up
Noticing your adult daughter’s been off lately and checking in
Tracking who needs to be where and when—even though “they’re old enough to handle it themselves.”
Managing everyone’s emotional temperature while yours quietly rises
Carrying the mental load of what needs to happen next week, next month, next year
While everyone else just… lives.
And the hardest part?
When you try to explain it, it sounds like you’re complaining about things that “aren’t a big deal.”
But they are.
Because it’s not one thing.
It’s all of them.
At once.
All the time.
And here’s the part that makes it worse
You don’t say anything.
Not because you don’t want help.
But because somewhere along the way, you became convinced that asking for it means you’ve failed.
So instead, you:
Catastrophize about what happens if you drop the ball
Plan 10 steps ahead to avoid disaster
Worry excessively about things that haven’t even happened yet
Hold yourself to impossible standards because “good enough” feels like giving up
You don’t break outwardly.
You break on the inside.
Through the anxiety that won’t shut off.
Through the perfectionism that keeps you up at night.
Through the constant mental loop of what if I forget something?
And the cruelest part?
Everyone thinks you’re fine.
Because you’ve gotten so good at carrying the weight without letting anyone see you buckle.
The thing Shonda Rhimes said that I think about constantly
I was talking to a woman last week about this exact thing, the pressure of doing it all perfectly:
Home-cooked meals every night
Showing up for the kids at every moment
Keeping your body together
Being present for your partner
Sex
A clean house
A career that doesn’t suffer
The list never ends.
And she said something that made me want to cry:
“I feel like I’m failing at everything because I can’t do any of it well enough.”
Here’s what I told her, and what I remind myself of constantly:
In Year of Yes, Shonda Rhimes wrote:
“Whenever I am killing it in one area of my life, I am kicking ass in that area. And I am sucking in most of the others.”
Read that again.
You cannot be exceptional at everything at the same time.
And the guilt you feel about that?
It’s not because you’re failing.
It’s because the expectation was impossible from the start.
What to do when the resentment starts building
Here’s what I do, and what I told her:
I journal.
Not the pretty, gratitude-journal kind.
The raw, messy, “I’m so angry I could scream” kind.
Because here’s the thing about resentment:
Your thoughts—even the angry, unfair, untrue ones—need a place to land.
If they don’t, they stay in your body.
In your jaw.
In your chest.
In the tightness you carry all day without even realizing it.
So I write it out:
“Nobody in this house sees me.”
“I’m tired of being the only one who cares.”
“Why is it always me?”
I don’t edit it.
I don’t make it nice.
I just let it out.
And sometimes—most times—that’s enough.
Because once it’s on the page, it’s not taking up space in my nervous system anymore.
That’s exactly why I created The 5-Minute Overwhelm Reset — a short, guided journal for those moments when your thoughts are spinning, and you need them to land somewhere safe.
It’s $12, takes less time than scrolling Instagram, and it’s designed specifically for the moments when “I’m fine” is the lie you keep telling yourself.
You can grab it here → [The 5-Minute Overwhelm Reset-A Guided Journal]
One grounding question to sit with
If you’re feeling this right now—the invisible load, the resentment, the exhaustion of being the one everyone depends on—try asking yourself:
What would happen if I let one thing be mediocre this week?
Not everything.
Just one thing.
Maybe dinner comes from a box.
Maybe you don’t respond to that email right away.
Maybe the laundry sits in the basket an extra day.
Not because you’re giving up.
But because you’re releasing the impossible standard that’s been crushing you.
One last thing
You’re not failing because you can’t do it all.
You’re human because you’ve been trying to.
And the most powerful thing you can do this week?
Stop expecting yourself to be exceptional everywhere, all the time.
You don’t owe anyone that.
Not even yourself.
I’ll be here next Tuesday—one story, one tool, and a reminder that you’re not alone in this.
Warmly,
Moya
More soon. No rush.
PPS — A quick note for transparency: this newsletter is supported by partners like Acadia Learning, which helps keep these Tuesday emails free for you.
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