If you have ever thought: “I can't take it anymore,” this article is for you.
You are not alone. You are not weak. You are exhausted. And that matters too.
When motherhood becomes overwhelming
There are days that don’t show up in photos. Days when you shout, cry in silence, or feel like you’re not getting anywhere. Days when you don’t know if you’re doing it right or if you’re failing the ones you love the most.
The idealized motherhood —the one that can do everything, knows everything, endures everything— does not exist. But the pressure to appear that way does. And it weighs. A lot.
Especially if you are neurodivergent, or if you are raising a little neurodivergent without a support system, without breaks, and without recognition.
“Sometimes it’s not that you can’t handle everything. It’s that you should never have had to do it alone.”
Sign of being at your limit
(even if you try to hide it)
- You get easily annoyed and then blame yourself for it.
- You find it hard to enjoy, even what used to make you feel good.
- You feel that everything depends on you and you don't know how to let it go.
- Your body is tense, you have a headache, you don't rest well.
- Every noise overwhelms you. Every request feels like a scream.
- Sometimes, you fantasize about escaping… and then guilt washes over you.
“Being at the limit doesn't make you a bad parent. It makes you human in an overwhelming system.”
And what if I am also neurodivergent?
Many parents discover their neurodivergence while raising. Because caring for others without leaving space for oneself reveals all the wounds we learned to hide. Or because we see ourselves reflected in them.
If you are overwhelmed by changes, noises, constant interruptions, or lack of control... it may not just be “fatigue.” There may be a different way of feeling, processing, and needing that has not been named.
Caring for a little neurodivergent can also be a brutal mirror. Because they do not disguise themselves. And in their truth, they force you to look at your own. There is a wonderful but hard book titled "Motherhood and the Encounter with One's Own Shadow," and I believe it is true. Motherhood brings us so many good things, I wouldn't take a single step back, I adore my children, and they have taught me to be more patient, to breathe, to slow down, and to be hyperproductive in less time, but they have also given me something incredible that is seldom named, and that is this encounter with one's own shadow, with one's own traumas, pains, sorrows. With the way we were raised and the way we want to raise now, with what we lacked or what added...
“You are not broken. You are holding others up without having been able to hold yourself.”
What do I do when everything slips away from me?
There are no magic recipes. But there are possible pauses, even if they are small:
- Name it. Saying "I can't anymore" is not giving up. It's starting to listen to yourself.
- Lower the bar. Choose only what is urgent. What is important is you, not the perfect home.
- Seek support. Psychotherapy, mother groups, neurodivergent community neurodivergent. You deserve a network.
- Sleep if you can. Eat if you can. Breathe if you can. And if you can't... ask for help. That is also parenting.
- Allow yourself to fail. What repairs is not perfection, it is presence. And you are here.
I will be drastic, okay? When oxygen masks drop in an airplane, they always say to put yours on first and then your children’s, right? This is because if you are not alive, and the plane crashes, no matter how much your little one has their mask on, perhaps no one will help them out, and you won’t be able to do it. It’s a bit harsh, I know, but what I want you to understand is that, in day-to-day life, something similar happens. If we have slept poorly, if we haven’t been able to eat, if we don’t make that delivery, if we are late and stressed... we will be more prone to have less patience and to explode. Taking this time for yourself, saying enough, and taking this time to rest, to nourish yourself, to talk with another adult... makes you feel good, and if you feel good, everything is fine.
“Taking care of yourself is not abandonment. It is reminding yourself that you also deserve support.”
Final reflection
Maybe everything is slipping away from you. Maybe you feel alone, invisible, or insufficient.
But there is one thing that does not escape you: the love that has brought you here.
You are not doing it wrong. You are doing it under unfair conditions.
And yet, here you are: holding, feeling, searching.
This is also love.
When your little one sees you, they jump for joy; when they hug you, they melt you with love; when they are scared, they call for you; and when they have something joyful to share, they seek you out.
They know you are there, as a mother... no one.
Did you feel reflected in this article? Share it in the comments with another mother who needs to know she is not alone.
At ATIPICOS.orgwe speak clearly, we care deeply, and we build community.
Verònica Martín