I Didn’t Realize How Burned Out I Was Until I Couldn’t Do Normal Things
I thought I was just overwhelmed.
Busy season.
Too much on my plate.
A hard couple of weeks.
That’s what I kept telling myself anyway.
But eventually it stopped feeling like normal stress and started feeling like I physically couldn’t function anymore.
Not dramatic breakdowns.
Not crying all the time.
Just constant exhaustion mixed with emotional numbness.
The kind where your eyes burn all day because you’re so tired, but somehow you still can’t fully rest.
The kind where you stop planning things because your brain literally cannot handle one more decision.
The kind where you open the grocery app three different times because your family needs food… and then close it because choosing snacks suddenly feels impossible.
And honestly?
That was one of the first signs that scared me.
Not the big things.
The small things.
The Week Everything Felt Like Too Much
Monday was one of those days where life kept piling on faster than I could emotionally process it.
I was already struggling to finish work while running into problem after problem at the end of the day when I got a phone call from Chaos Maker #6.
My stomach dropped immediately because we had recently filed a police report involving toxic grandma behavior, so anytime the girls call unexpectedly after school, my brain instantly prepares for the worst.
Then came the texts.
Then the updates.
Then Chaos Maker #7’s blood sugar alarms started going off.
Then my mom called about a court hearing involving guardianship of my nieces.
And somehow the clock just kept moving while all of this was happening.
I told myself we’d deal with it all later that night when I got home.
But life doesn’t pause long enough to let you catch up sometimes.
And honestly, this season of life has felt a lot like what I talked about in The Hidden Work of Being the Default Parent — constantly carrying mental weight nobody else can fully see.
Functional Burnout Doesn’t Always Look Dramatic
The next day, Chaos Maker #7 was home sick again.
Her blood sugars had been running high all week, and she had been dealing with stomach aches on and off.
But work still existed.
Bills still existed.
Responsibilities still existed.
So I did morning drop-offs like normal while mentally trying to figure out how I was supposed to get through the day knowing my Type 1 diabetic child was home sick.
I called my mom.
I messaged the adult kids group chat.
Chaos Maker #3 rearranged sleep after working third shift just to stay with her for a while.
And as grateful as I was for the help, my brain never stopped running all day because even though he’s 22, he’s not fully trained for Type 1 diabetes emergencies. He was there for “house on fire” situations — not because I could fully shut my brain off and relax.
So I kept checking my phone.
Checking numbers.
Checking in mentally.
Trying to work.
Trying to function.
Trying to stay awake.
And eventually I couldn’t anymore.
I clocked out and slept at my desk for 15 minutes because my body physically could not keep going.
Not emotionally.
Physically.
That was the moment I realized this wasn’t just “being busy” anymore.
Burnout Started Showing Up in Ways I Didn’t Recognize
I always thought burnout would look obvious.
I thought it would look dramatic.
But for me, it looked like:
- not being able to make decisions
- not wanting to think anymore
- avoiding planning things
- forgetting details constantly
- sending kids to school looking thrown together
- Chaos Maker #8 forgetting his glasses over and over because life got so chaotic after diagnosis
- sleeping every chance I got but never actually feeling rested
It looked like surviving instead of functioning.
And I think that’s the part people misunderstand most about moms running on empty.
From the outside, it still looks like we’re handling things.
The kids still get where they need to go.
The appointments still happen.
Work still gets done.
Dinner still exists… sometimes.
But internally?
You start losing the ability to carry even the small things.
That’s why posts like The Things I Keep Putting Off (And Why I Can’t Seem to Catch Up) and The Days I Look Fine… But I’m Not hit me so hard after I wrote them, because I realized I wasn’t just overwhelmed anymore.
I was numb.
I Don’t Want To Miss My Own Life
I think that’s the part that hurts the most.
Not the exhaustion itself.
The fear that I’m surviving so hard that I’m missing my own life while it’s happening.
I love having all my kids together in our tiny little house that’s absolutely busting at the seams.
With four adult kids, I know how lucky I am that we still all end up together multiple times a year.
Those moments matter to me more than almost anything.
But sometimes I’m so exhausted that I feel disconnected from my own life while I’m living it.
Like I’m physically there… but mentally just trying to make it to bedtime.
My bed has honestly become my second home because the second I finally slow down, I realize how exhausted I actually am.
And that’s a hard thing to admit out loud.
Sometimes Tiny Things Help You Feel Human Again
The weirdest part about emotional numbness is that tiny things suddenly matter more than they used to.
On Mother’s Day, someone got me a ridiculous little desk goose for work with tiny outfits.
It was completely unnecessary.
Completely silly.
And I almost cried because someone listened to me enough to know I’d love something that stupid.
When I finally put one of the little outfits on the goose at work, I smiled.
A real smile.
And it made me realize how long it had been since I felt much of anything besides exhaustion.
That moment probably sounds small to most people.
But when you’ve been surviving for long enough, tiny moments start feeling huge because they break through the fog for a second.
If You’re Running On Empty Too… Keep Going
Not in a toxic positivity way.
Not in a “just push through” way.
I mean keep going long enough to notice the small moments that still make you feel human.
The smiles.
The tiny wins.
The moments your kids still come sit by you.
The stupid desk goose with tiny outfits.
Because sometimes burnout doesn’t look like falling apart.
Sometimes it looks like quietly whispering:
“I can’t.”
While still somehow continuing to carry everything anyway.
And if that’s where you are right now?
You’re probably more exhausted than you even realize.
But your kids still love you.
They still see you.
And one day, this season won’t feel quite this heavy anymore.
Photo by Q. Hưng Phạm
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