The Mental Load Is Real: What True Help at Home Looks Like

Burnout was my ultimate wake-up call. For the longest time, I wore being busy like a badge of honor—juggling work, family, side gigs—and honestly believing that saying “no” meant I was weak or lazy. I thought that if I was constantly running from one thing to the next, I was winning at life. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. What I didn’t realize was that I was drowning in something called the mental load—the invisible, nagging to-do list that lives in your brain, reminding you of everything you have to remember, organize, and worry about, even if it’s not on any official calendar. It’s like a background app running 24/7, draining your energy without you even noticing until one day you crash.

In my house, the visible stuff—groceries, cooking, laundry—gets split pretty evenly, and for the most part, that works. My partner and I both take responsibility for the “hands-on” tasks, and I’m grateful for that. But the invisible tasks—the planning, the scheduling, the “when do we need more toothpaste” kind of questions? That mostly lands on me. I usually handle choosing and organizing kid activities—maybe because I like knowing what’s coming up or maybe because I’m a bit of a control freak—but my partner takes care of the doctor appointments. Once everything is organized, we share the driving duties, so it feels balanced. That’s the kind of teamwork you dream about, right? Or at least, the kind you hope for.

But here’s where the real kicker comes in: the nightly cleanup and tidying up. That’s my battlefield. I’m the only one who really loses it when the house is messy. My partner tends to notice the chaos only after I’ve already exploded, usually because the sink is full of dishes or the living room looks like a hurricane passed through. It’s funny because he genuinely doesn’t see the mess the same way I do—it’s like we live in parallel universes where clutter means completely different things. I’ve come to realize that hoping things will magically get done isn’t a strategy. So I’m working on being more vocal—dropping hints like, “This isn’t a big deal yet, but if the sink stays full, I’m going to lose it soon.” Call it preemptive honesty or just trying to keep the peace before the storm hits. Sometimes it feels like I’m negotiating with a toddler, but hey, it works better than silence and sudden explosions.

When I say “help,” I don’t just mean pitching in with the chores. I want more mental and emotional support—keeping the house tidy isn’t just about picking up after yourself, it’s about preventing the mess from piling up so one person doesn’t end up feeling like the unpaid house manager. You know that feeling when you’re doing all the thinking, all the planning, all the reminding—and nobody else even knows it’s happening? Yeah, that’s the mental load. To keep things from spiraling, we sit down every weekend with a calendar and plan out the week ahead—doctor’s appointments, classes, groceries, everything. It’s not fancy, but it helps both of us know what’s coming and who’s responsible for what. No surprises, less stress.

Balancing this with side gigs could easily be a disaster, but for me, writing and baking are therapy. They’re little pockets of joy in an otherwise chaotic week. It’s my time to breathe, be creative, and feel like myself again. Sure, there’s always the chance it might become overwhelming down the line, but for now? I’m soaking it in and loving every minute. I’m not going to lie though—there are days when I wonder if adding “blogger” and “baker” to my already overflowing plate is sane. But honestly, those side gigs remind me that I’m more than just a manager, a wife, and a mom—they remind me who I am outside of all that.

Emotionally, this juggling act is a cocktail of frustration, exhaustion, and—if I’m honest—lots of humor. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at the chaos or you’ll cry. Life’s messy and imperfect, and that’s more than okay. The truth is, no one has it all figured out, even if social media would have you believe otherwise. And let’s be real—there are nights when I’m sitting on the couch, exhausted, dishes piled up in the sink, wondering how I’m supposed to keep all these plates spinning without dropping one.

If I had a magic wand, I’d wish for a house that stays tidy and organized without me having to nag or remind. I want teamwork, not just me carrying the invisible clipboard. I want to feel like we’re both in this together—not just splitting chores, but sharing the brainwork, the mental gymnastics, the invisible juggling act that is family life.

Here’s the real truth: it’s okay to slow down and be clear about what you need. Talk to your partner or family, don’t assume they know. The mental load is invisible, so once you shine a light on it, you might be surprised how willing people are to help. Sometimes, they don’t see it because it’s not their default mode to notice, and that’s why you have to be the messenger. It’s not nagging—it’s asking for support. And sometimes, the best kind of help is just having someone listen and understand what you’re carrying every day.

-Fabi