Lists Upon Lists

I’m a stay-at-home mom — though I rarely stay still. My body moves constantly, but my brain? It never rests. Every minute is accounted for. Every bag packed. Every meltdown prepped for. Every meal pre-thought, even if it ends in nuggets anyway. There’s no silence in my head. Only lists. 📋

But this isn’t about tasks.
It’s about the thing beneath them.
The weight you can’t see but always feel.

The Thread We Carry

Mental load.
Invisible labor.
Emotional weight.

Call it what you want. It’s the unseen thread that runs through a mother’s life — always taut, always tangled. And if we drop it? Everything else falls. 🧵

We are the keepers of the calendar, the rememberers of shoe sizes and allergy med dosages, the finders of socks and the feelers of moods. We sense when a tantrum is thirty seconds from impact. We remember what teacher said what. We pack the diaper bag for every possible outcome, and when something’s forgotten, the blame finds its way back to us.

We remember everything — so no one else has to.

The Lessons We Never Chose

We didn’t stumble into this role — we were conditioned for it. From girlhood, we were praised for being helpers, nurturers, little moms-in-training. We were taught to notice what others missed, to soothe before being asked, to anticipate needs like it was a virtue.

No one ever had to say it out loud: we absorbed the lesson anyway. Be responsible. Be thoughtful. Be less of a burden. And then, when we became mothers? Those quiet lessons became lifelong expectations. 🌒

When Heroics Become Routine

And the worst part? Most of this goes unnoticed. Unpraised. Expected.

Because when dads do the school drop-off, strangers call them heroes.
When moms do it, it’s just Tuesday.

Mental load isn’t about doing more.
It’s about thinking more. All the time.

Even while driving. Even while “resting.” Even while sleeping. It’s the hum in your head that never shuts off.

The Cost of Carrying It All

And that kind of chronic overthinking?
It changes you.

You become quieter. More tired. More reactive. You start snapping over plastic forks in the sink, and crying when someone complains the trash is full — even though you already pulled it, took it out, and filled it back up while deep cleaning.

And all of it? Done without showering for a week or having a solid night’s sleep since…honestly, you can’t even remember when. 😮‍💨

You forget what you like. What you want. You forget who you were before you were everyone’s backup brain.

And it’s not because you’re weak.
It’s because you’re tired of being the thread holding everything together.

It’s because no one else sees the tension — until it snaps.

Even Witches Burn Out

So no, this isn’t just about toothpaste and field trip forms. It’s about the cost of caring without reprieve. It’s about the quiet burnout that comes from being the one who knows — the keeper of routines, the regulator of emotions, the architect of peace. 🕊️

It’s time we talk about this. Name it. Share it. Not just the chores, but the weight of planning, anticipating, absorbing. The mental spreadsheets. The emotional triage. The invisible work of love. 💭

Because this is magic.
But even witches burn out.
Even witches fray.
Even witches need help with the ritual sometimes. 🖤