The Mental Load We Carry (And What the Holidays Made Impossible to Ignore)

January always brings this quiet pressure with it.

For me, it’s not the loud, resolution-y kind. I’m not really a resolutions gal. I’m much more of a “hey, I have a new goal and it’s September, so I’m just going to start today” kind of person. But January still carries this underlying expectation that we should feel reset. Clear-headed. Rested. Ready to get back to work simply because the calendar flipped.

And if I’m honest, that’s not how this year started for me at all.

What the holidays surfaced most clearly for me this year wasn’t rest or reflection. It was mental load. The kind that doesn’t show up on a to-do list but hums in the background of your day anyway. The kind you don’t always realize you’re carrying until something shifts just enough for you to notice it.

For me, that moment came in a really ordinary conversation. My husband worked right up until the week before Christmas this year, and because of family logistics, our first Christmas celebration actually happened the week before Christmas. Everything had to happen earlier than expected. To his credit, once he was off work, he was ready to jump in and help. At one point he asked, genuinely, “Okay, what can I do to help get gifts together?” And without thinking too much about it, I said, “It’s been done for weeks.”

It wasn’t said with frustration or resentment. It was just true. And as soon as I said it out loud, something clicked.

I realized I’d been carrying an extra layer of responsibility for over a month. Planning further ahead than usual to accommodate early celebrations. Weaving it all around long days at the office and long days at home. And I’m very aware this year was different for me in a lot of ways. Earlier celebrations. My first year with a child who actually “gets it” (even though, if we’re being honest, he was way more into the boxes than the gifts). And this quiet pressure to make the moments feel special.

So there I was, tracking timelines, gifts, coordination, and all the small details that make the magic happen. And by the time help arrived, the work itself was already finished.

That’s when I really saw what mental load can look like, especially for so many mothers during the holidays.

It’s not just doing the thing. It’s thinking about the thing long before it’s visible to anyone else. It’s anticipating, remembering, adjusting, and holding all the invisible pieces together. And once you see it, you start noticing it everywhere.

The thing about mental load is that it doesn’t turn off when work does. It follows you into evenings, weekends, and family gatherings. It shows up during seasons that are supposed to feel slower. So when January arrives and you don’t feel refreshed, it’s not because you did the holidays wrong. It’s because you never actually stopped holding everything together.

I see this constantly in my work. And yes, I see it most often with women, but not in one narrow way like just being a “mom.” I see it with the people who are the glue on their teams. The ones managing full-time jobs while also taking calls from school, coordinating care for aging parents, showing up for community needs, and juggling all of that in between big meetings and deadlines.

They’re often described as reliable. Proactive. The steady hands. The ones who anticipate needs before they’re named, notice gaps before they become problems, and carry context no one explicitly asked them to hold, but everyone relies on them to remember.

The tricky part is that most workplaces reward output, not cognitive load. So the exhaustion people feel doesn’t always line up with what their calendars show. On paper, things look fine. The work is getting done. Expectations are being met. Sometimes they’re even being exceeded. But internally, something feels heavier than it should. Not dramatic. Not a crisis. Just…harder.

That’s usually where confusion sets in.

People start comparing themselves to earlier versions of themselves and wondering why everything feels like more effort now. They ask themselves why they’re so tired, why things feel harder than they used to, why they can’t just get it together. And because there’s no obvious problem to point to, they turn that question inward.

What often goes unnamed in those moments is that their lives are fuller and more complex than they used to be, even if their job titles haven’t changed. They’re not less capable. They’re carrying more.

I want to be really clear about this. When work feels harder than it should, it’s very rarely a motivation issue.

It’s almost never about being ungrateful or doing something wrong. More often, it’s about invisible responsibility inside systems that quietly depend on your over-functioning. Expectations are assumed instead of clarified. Roles expand without being redefined. Life simply requires more of you than it once did.

And no amount of productivity advice can fix that.

This is where I see people burn so much energy trying to solve the wrong problem. They try to optimize themselves instead of examining the system they’re operating in. And the real shift, the one that actually changes things, isn’t about doing less. It’s about seeing more clearly.

When someone finally names what they’re carrying, something softens. There’s relief first. Then there’s empowerment. They realize they’re not failing. They finally have solid ground to stand on. They can look at their situation for what it is, instead of what they think it should be. They start taking control where they can, and giving themselves grace where they can’t.

Once that clarity clicks, I see the same changes again and again. People stop apologizing for being tired. They set boundaries without guilt. They ask for clarity instead of silently absorbing more. They make career decisions from intention instead of urgency. Their energy doesn’t magically increase, but they stop wasting it on self-criticism. And that alone creates space.

I don’t think January is meant to be about reinvention, it’s meant to be about honesty.

About noticing what’s already taking your energy before deciding what to add next. Before asking, “What do I want this year?” a more useful question is often, “What am I already carrying that no one sees?”

This is exactly where my work lives. I help people design careers that fit their real lives because work doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

Careers are shaped by systems, expectations, seasons, and responsibilities, not just ambition and effort. My role isn’t to push people harder or convince them to want less. It’s to help them think clearly when everything feels heavy, so they can stop solving the wrong problem and start making grounded, confident decisions.

If you’re reading this and feeling that quiet sense of recognition – like, oh… this is what’s been going on – you’re not alone.

And if you’re realizing that what you need right now isn’t another productivity tweak, but clearer thinking and steadier support, this is exactly the kind of work I do.

I help people design careers that fit their real lives, not the ones they had five years ago, or the ones they think they’re supposed to want. The ones they are living right now.

If that sounds like something you need right now,

you can learn more about working together here.

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