What is Mental Load, and Why is Everything My Problem?

My husband took out the trash today.  He loaded the dishwasher, after feeding our toddler his prepared lunch from the fridge.  When I got caught on the phone to settle an insurance dispute, he went through the routine of wrangling the little guy into his sleep sack and down for a nap.  He scooped the cat litter box for the umpteenth time this week, while I, from the comfort of the couch, sunk deeper into guilt, shame, and insecurity about how little I contribute to the smooth running of our household.

Sure, I cook.  Sometimes.  And I guess I clean a little, but the house is always a mess anyway.  The laundry that piles into baskets on our bedroom floor does get put away, I can assure you, but you’d never know because by the next evening it’s full again.

But, is that really enough to consider myself an important player in our family’s day-to-day function?  Things would absolutely crumble without my husband’s presence.  Would he even skip a beat without mine?

These thoughts swim around all day, intruding on my life to remind me that what I’m doing isn’t good enough.  I’m fatigued by three in the afternoon every day but can’t seem to pin down why, since I’m just so lazy (note the sarcasm).

The other day, though, when my husband was getting our son buckled into his high chair and ready for lunchtime, I had an epiphany.

I sat at my desk, rifling through my agenda while halfway paying attention to a meeting with several colleagues, which only halfway pertained to my job.  The boys were within earshot, my husband making cooing noises to try and settle our cranky, hangry boy who had just gotten up from his first nap.

I shifted my attention back to work, when my husband called “Babe?” from downstairs.  “Why isn’t he eating?”

When my meeting abruptly ended I hurried to the kitchen and met my panicked spouse at the fridge.  Our son’s high chair tray was littered with red sauce and toddler-sized chunks of meatball, strewn to the side while the baby wailed.  His face contorted to express his disgust at our dinner leftovers from last night, and when my husband tried to plead with him, our son grabbed a hunk of meatball and sent it flying across the room and onto the floor.

“He doesn’t like meatballs anymore,” I said.  “He always gets pissed when we try to feed him meatballs.”

Now fighting to be heard over the shrieks of our child, my husband hollered, “Well what am I supposed to give him now?”

“It’s on my agenda to meal prep for him,” I said.  “Give me five minutes.”

My husband and I make a great team.  He consoled the baby and distracted him from his hunger with games in the living room while I got to work in the kitchen.  I went down my mental list of meal ideas, tried and true and approved by the little one.  And, of course, I had to make sure all the major food groups were represented.

Let’s see, I thought, pulling a bag of cauliflower rice from the freezer and popping it in the microwave to steam.  The perfect base for an emergency, impromptu toddler meal.

I rifled through the cabinets, scoring a box of whole wheat spiral pasta, and set it on the counter while I prepared a pot of water to boil on the stove.  Protein, protein, protein… What are we going to do for protein?

BAM!  It hit me.  We were doing leftover rotisserie chicken.

I got to shredding the meat into age-appropriate sizes, small enough to mitigate choking risk but big enough to grab for hands that hadn’t quite perfected their fine motor skills yet.  When the pasta was done I re-used the pot (so as to limit the amount of dirty dishes) to make a garlicky alfredo-like sauce with some cream cheese, a go-to for covering up pungent vegetable flavors that make our son very, very angry.

Into the pot went the pasta, cauliflower rice, and chicken shreds to get coated in the sauce.  Before our son could even remember he was hungry, he had a tolerable meal in front of him, and enough for four more portions in the fridge.

This story is an example of something called “mental load.”

Mental load is the emotional effort that goes into managing tasks and responsibilities.  It’s not just about doing the tasks (like cooking) but also refers to the responsibility of having to constantly think about those tasks.  It’s the planning, the keeping track, the burden of knowing what needs to be done and feeling a sense of duty to ensure it gets done right.  

Let’s break down this story.  The first teeny moment that showcased mental load was when I was in a work meeting, but kept an ear out to make sure my husband and baby were okay.  I’m always tapped into “mom-mode,” even when I’m supposed to be focused on other things.  This seemingly took no added effort on my part, but mental load compounds and adds up to create stress.

The second example of mental load was when my husband came to me for help, assuming that I’d know why the baby wasn’t eating his meatballs.  And the third example was that I did know why he wasn’t eating them, and had stored that information in my brain because as a mom, I deemed it important enough to hold onto.

The obvious examples of mental load popped up when I figured out what to make for my son, tapping into my existing knowledge of food he likes and dislikes (and outright despises), my knowledge that it is important to create a balanced meal that includes multiple food groups, knowledge of how to cook and prepare food without a recipe on hand, knowledge of age-appropriate preparations for choking-hazard foods, knowledge of meals that require little time to prepare in a rush…

You get the picture.

I chose this lighthearted story as an example of mental load to show that while this was a fairly insignificant, mundane task, it required more energy and brain power than one might assume upon first glance.

This is why mental load is often described as “unseen responsibility” or “invisible work.”  It’s easy to overlook just how important my role was in managing the situation.  

You might be thinking, this girl really knows how to complain about the littlest things.  While yes, I have a particular talent for finding things to whine about, I think I’m onto something here.

You see, making my son’s lunch was not the only mental load I bore that day.  In addition to my nine-to-five, I went through the same process to make a nutritious, convenient, and tasty breakfast.  I took into account my own dietary restrictions (due to my Diabetes) as well as my husband’s different dietary needs (due to his high cholesterol and prehypertension), and our toddler’s different dietary needs (due to his extremely finicky taste buds), to make something that worked for everyone.

Then, between work tasks I did the same exact thing for dinner.

With all my cooking, I kept track of what ingredients we were running low on so I’d know what to grab during our next grocery trip.

Throughout the day I also visited my household budget spreadsheet and bank accounts to track our bill payments and confirm our finances were in order.  I went through our paper mail and responded accordingly to important bills and notices, and followed up with our health insurance company to clear up a discrepancy with a claim denial my husband never knew even existed.

I didn’t take out the trash, but ensuring that the trash bins made it out to the street was still on my to-do list because even if I wasn’t the one to physically bring it out, I still had some responsibility to make sure it was done.  

I went through my calendar and had my husband request time off of work for his upcoming appointments, and requested time off myself to bring our son to his appointments.

I followed up with our home insurance adjuster to see if any updates had been made to our open claim, for which we were still owed money.  I reached out to the contractors that had completed the repairs on our house to assure them that we’d be making payments soon, and offered them an estimate for when we would be receiving our outstanding funds.

During my few breaks from work, I exerted the very little energy I had playing with my son, because the thought that I am responsible for his future perception of his childhood is something I’m frequently reminded of.  I felt moments of stress that he might not meet his language development milestones on time, because maybe I don’t talk to him enough, or maybe my husband and I are on our phones too often.

I spent time throughout the day feeling guilty and shameful, wondering if I’m a good enough parent, comparing myself to other moms that seem solely devoted to their kids and nothing else.  I speculated about what I might be doing wrong, and how it will affect my child as he grows.

I also saw my therapist, targeting generational trauma and cycle-breaking to ensure that I am the best mother and wife that I can possibly be.  As a result, much of my emotional energy goes into consciously rewiring the trauma-born parts of my personality.

These are all examples of mental load.  Individually, they are manageable thought processes that everyone experiences, but compounded on each other throughout the course of a day, and they can become overwhelming.

With thoughts like these constantly swirling and engulfing my consciousness, it’s easy to get overstimulated when additional pressures and distractions are tacked on.  When mental load is acknowledged, it’s not hard to understand why someone bearing its burden might feel burnt out or fatigued after a seemingly endless cycle of non-stop thinking and responsibility.

The damage comes when we (and others) are unable to recognize mental load as legitimate.  Many women struggle with mental load but are written off by their spouses as lazy or unmotivated.  This is why it is so integral to talk about the burden of mental load amongst each other and with our partners.  I hope that my story helps other moms recognize and acknowledge their own emotional and cognitive burdens, too.

Going forward, I will work on dismantling the guilt and shame I feel when my husband does more “visible” tasks around the house.  It is okay to accept help.  It is okay, and often necessary, to communicate expectations and even delegate tasks to others when things get overwhelming.  Not everything can be managed by one person all the time, and it’s important to leave space for down time and rest.  Your emotional labor is very real, and is an essential role in a functioning household.

Dream Team!

I am appreciative of my husband’s contributions to our house.  His part in co-parenting has been foundational to the success of our family.

Now, say this part with me:

“I am equally grateful for myself and my own role in making our lives run smoothly.  Mental load is a legitimate responsibility that requires physical and emotional energy.  I’m a badass mom and I’m taking care of the BUSINESS.”

Great job!

(I know you needed to hear that)