I had not noticed that I had been bearing the burden of two lives, until I ceased to walk.
A certain evening, when I finally got my child to sleep, washed the dinner dishes, answered a really important email at work, and made a mental list of the things I needed to get at the grocery store tomorrow, I sat down on the edge of my bed and cried. Softly, so as not to awake anybody. The invisible load does not come with a big fanfare, that is what I call it. It is the fatigue that creeps into your bones, the list of things you should do that gets longer in your head as the rest of the world is peacefully sleeping.
And above all it is the thing that you are supposed to be able to handle it all without any fuss..
The Weight We’re Not Supposed to Name
Invisible load is a term that defines the emotional, mental, and even physical work that women perform unfairly. It is more than the doing–it is the remembering, the anticipating, the worrying and the managing. I am the one who remembers the birthdays, notices when the laundry detergent is about to end, keeps the family emotionally under control, eases the tension, organizes the holidays, and consoles everyone and tends to forget about myself.
I am not the only one. It is the same burden that so many of the women I know bear, whether they are mothers and daughters, partners and professionals. We are taught it at an early age: Be useful, be nice, make sure others are taken care of first. We are conditioned to feel useful when we are needed and that need is a trap.
How Carrying It All Warps Who We Are
When you have so many things racing in your head about the needs of everybody else, you end up forgetting what you need. I prided myself on being an independent woman, creative. However, as time went on, I found myself reacting rather than being intentional– rushing off one commitment to the next, my value determined by how successfully I could keep it all “together.” I somewhere lost the way to be a person, a caretaker, a manager, and a planner.
This is not all about time. It is identity. And around the fact that the self-esteem of women remains so closely entwined with how well we take care of everyone. And it is even more complex when the society applauds us to do it. We are being told that we are strong, awesome, selfless. However, there are times when I do not want to be strong. I desire to be visible. I would like to be asked: Who is taking care of you?
Why Letting Go Feels Like Failing
I have attempted to make it lighter. I have assigned responsibilities, made tough decisions, and even overlooked some expectations, nevertheless, the guilt always sets in. It has a voice in my head that says: Either I do it, or it will not be done right. When I rest, then I am lazy. When I cease to care, then I am selfish.
It is not my voice- it is years of social programming. It is the superwoman, the good wife, the perfect mother myth. It gets reaffirmed in silent methods even by other female people: “You are so good at multitasking!” or “Wow, I do not know how you do everything!” And at such times I smile though I may be shattering within. There is a shame of asking help still. And to say that you are overwhelmed, seems like a failure.
Toward a Different Kind of Strength
And gradually, I have learned to ask myself: What if strength is in saying no? What if the true strength lies in vulnerability, in setting boundaries, in not being perfect?
Today, I am trained to call the invisible work I perform and ask others to join me. I no longer fake that I can—or ought to–do everything. I tell him, I am tired, without feeling sorry. I justify not resting. I request my partner to share his load–not as a favor, but as a need.
This is not simple. It’s uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar. But it is liberating.
Let’s Stop Glorifying the Struggle
Women are not robots. We are not bottomless wells of patience, energy and emotional support. We are humans- round, complicated, worthy of care ourselves.
And to all the women who are reading this and are carrying way too much and are blaming yourselves because you are tired: It is not your fault. It is the weight. And the best thing is, loads can be shared. But they have to be noticed first.
Then shall we speak. This is a great expectation, isn t it? Let us call a spade a spade, and doubt the hype that attends self-sacrifice, and doubt the notion that we are worth anything in proportion to the amount we can suffer.
As we are worth more than survival. We want to be sovereign.
About the Author
Jovialwriter2 writes about gender, identity, and personal power—drawing from lived experience and cultural observation to challenge social norms and spark honest conversations. When not writing, she advocates for rest, realness, and radical care.
