Consider this scenario that illustrates the mental load I bear daily: Last weekend, I attended a work retreat out of town for two and a half days. With three daughters, our weekends are often packed with activities, which can feel overwhelmingly chaotic, filled with places to go, items to pack, and people to coordinate with.
My partner, Mark, is more than capable of managing the kids and their schedules in my absence. He has all the important dates on his calendar, just like I do. However, what he lacks when I’m away is the mental map I carry in my mind, which is why I provide him with a detailed itinerary after 15 years of parenting together.
Mark isn’t aware that our youngest’s soccer jersey is freshly washed and still drying. He doesn’t remember which family might be able to give our middle child a ride to her friends’ house or how our oldest will return home from her volleyball party, not to mention that she needs to bake brownies and we owe the host $20 for pizza and a coach’s gift.
This isn’t due to a lack of ability or concern on his part. It’s simply that these everyday details swirl in my head while he focuses on his own responsibilities. When I ask for his help, he responds, albeit not always in the way or timing I expect; he’s got his own tasks that don’t revolve around our household.
It can be emotionally taxing to ask for help, as it sometimes feels urgent to me. I often wonder if I’m being too demanding or why I need to remind him — shouldn’t he just know what needs to be done? These thoughts create an ongoing tension between us, which has become a common topic of discussion both in our home and across social media.
Had I not provided a schedule, Mark would have managed most of the weekend’s activities, but it would have been more stressful for him and the kids. Without those details, I would have been anxious, worrying about the kids not knowing where their soccer gear is or how to get to various events. By writing out the schedule, I offload a portion of my mental burden, albeit temporarily.
I also put in significant effort before leaving: I did laundry, stocked the fridge, wrote checks, paid bills ahead of time, wrapped a birthday gift, and even baked brownies for my daughter’s volleyball party before heading to the airport.
Despite all this preparation, my mind was still cluttered with upcoming tasks: the dog’s medications, scheduling the youngest’s dentist appointment, snacks for the soccer tournament, Halloween costumes, and trick-or-treating plans.
Am I complaining? Maybe a bit. This mental load contributes to my anxiety, keeping me awake at night, and ultimately wears me out. I’m starting to recognize the invisible work that many women undertake — managing the emotional well-being of our families: kids, partners, and even extended family. I’m questioning how to shift this dynamic and whether it truly is as gendered as it appears.
What would happen if I just stopped doing everything? My family would likely adapt. They would find their meals, navigate their schedules, and even bake their own brownies. They might eventually learn to make their own appointments or ask for help from their dad. If they don’t? Life would continue on its chaotic path.
The pressing question is: how do I redefine my mental load? Who dictates this work — is it me, societal expectations, or patriarchal norms? What does it mean to stop feeling anxious about the emotional needs of myself, my kids, and my partner?
While I hoped to have a revelatory moment during my weekend away, surrounded by inspiring women, I didn’t quite achieve that. However, I did gain valuable insights and laughter, and I learned some new slang. Ultimately, I returned home to find the kids well cared for, the older ones busy with homework, and the youngest winding down for bed.
The house was in its typical state of organized chaos — the dishwasher needed loading and I stepped in dog food that had somehow found its way into the hall. As for the schedule? It seemed to have served its purpose and vanished into the recycling bin. That night, I sank into my cozy bed, enjoying a rare moment of peace and drifting into a list-free sleep.