My eyes are burning as I stumble into the bathroom and fumble for the shower knob. I mentally beg myself not to cry — not because I’m feeling strong, but because crying makes the sting worse, and I don’t have the bandwidth to add that to my morning. It’s 6:00 a.m. Way too early. But honestly, I say that every morning, so I guess at this point, it’s just… reality.

By the time the water hits my shoulders, I’ve already moved past physical discomfort and launched into my first job of the day: mental project management.

The to-do list kicks in:

•  Warn Margie about that loose cabinet door before it becomes a thing.
•  Prep for the 9 a.m. team meeting — don’t forget to finally role-play that objection-handling scenario.
•  Pull last week’s numbers for the 10 a.m. manager meeting and get an update from the recruiter.
•  Stop at the store — we’re out of milk, strawberries, and baby cereal (but let’s be real: I’ll forget and end up at the store after work anyway).
•  11 a.m. interview with an international candidate — fill out the interview guide this time.
•  Book the flights for next month’s trip — nope. Abort mission. Thinking about everything that needs to be done before a four-day “vacation” is enough to kill the vibe.
•  1 p.m. webinar planning — bring the topic list and last month’s productivity numbers.
•  Did I pay the car payment??
•  3:30–4:30 — one-on-ones. Don’t forget to listen to the call recordings.

By the time I’m out of the shower, an hour has flown by in a blur of barking dogs, cranky kids, a closet crisis (why does nothing fit right today?), and half-eaten breakfasts. I finally escape the house with hugs, kisses, and a coffee in hand.

I used to think moms in SUVs with big sunglasses and lattes looked so put together. Now I know: the oversized sunglasses are hiding dark circles, and the Yeti mug? That’s not coffee. That’s survival fuel.

On the way to work, I half-listen to yet another audiobook on leadership, work-life balance, or “becoming your best self.” Five minutes in, I switch to music — the audiobook lady lost me at “alignment,” and what I really need is something with a beat and zero advice.

I pull into the office parking lot, put the car in park… and just sit there.

Still.

Quiet.

Exhausted.

I fantasize about checking into a hotel alone — just me, room service, and 36 uninterrupted hours of sleep. But even the idea of everything I’d have to do to make that happen is overwhelming. So I just sit. For one more minute. Maybe two.

Surely this cycle will break eventually, right? The baby will start sleeping through the night. Work will calm down. The toddler won’t wake up before the birds. Once the new team is hired and trained, it’ll all settle. Something has to give.
Right?
RIGHT?!

Fast forward to the end (do people still say CliffsNotes or is that just what we call asking ChatGPT now?) — spoiler alert: nothing magically “gave.”

I had to make it give.

I was burnt out — from work, from home, from the weight of being everything to everyone without asking for anything in return.

I had to reprioritize. I had to delegate. I had to let go of the superhero complex.

• That report? Operations could run it.
• The kids? My mom offered to take them one night a month — I finally said yes.
• Grocery shopping? Thank you, delivery apps.
• Baths and bedtime? My husband can handle it (newsflash: the kids didn’t spontaneously combust).

My problem wasn’t the to-do list. It was that I didn’t recognize my own warning signs — or thought I wasn’t allowed to. Now I know:

If my shirt feels too tight and my sweater too scratchy, I’m not just uncomfortable — I’m overstimulated.
If seeing a meeting on my calendar makes me want to cry? It needs to move.
If we’re out of milk and strawberries… well, congratulations kids, it’s grapes and lemonade today.

Burnout doesn’t always come with sirens. Sometimes, it’s just Tuesday — and you need to take a long lunch, roam the aisles of Target, and remember that you don’t have to carry it all alone.

Give yourself grace.
Give yourself space.

And maybe, give yourself that hotel room… just with room service and no guilt.