You know the advice. Take a bubble bath. Read a book. Light a candle. Take a day for yourself. And while all of those things sound nice, I've learned something about myself over the years: a bubble bath doesn't fix burnout. At least not mine.
The truth is, I struggle with taking a break from reality. I struggle with sitting still long enough to reset, even when I know I need it. Between working a full-time job, homeschooling, running a business, building curriculum, keeping up with family hobbies, and trying to keep our house from looking like complete chaos, there is always something that needs my attention. There is always another lesson to plan, another email to answer, another load of laundry waiting to be folded, or another idea that pops into my head at ten o'clock at night when I should be sleeping.
The funny thing is that I genuinely love most of the things that keep me busy. I love homeschooling my boys and building curriculum that works for the way they learn. I love creating and building The Freestyle Project. I love our family hobbies, our RC adventures, our road trips, and the random conversations that somehow happen at the most unexpected times. None of those things feel like burdens. They are things I chose and things I love. The problem is that even the things we love can become overwhelming when we try to carry all of them at the same time.
One thing I've learned as a parent is that every child needs something different from you. My boys are on the autism spectrum, and like so many other parents have discovered, no two autistic children are the same. What works for one may not work for another. Some days require extra patience, extra planning, and a level of flexibility that most people never see. There are sensory needs to consider, routines that help make the day smoother, and moments where something that seems small to someone else feels huge to them.
At the same time, being a mom to children on the spectrum has given me some of the most incredible moments of my life. I've learned to celebrate victories that other people might miss. I've learned that success doesn't always look the same for every child, and that's okay. I've learned to see the world through different eyes. There are challenges, absolutely, but there is also so much joy, creativity, honesty, and passion. Being their mom is one of the greatest privileges of my life, even on the hard days.
Then there is my daughter.
If my boys constantly keep me moving, my daughter constantly keeps me humble. The older she gets, the more I realize she is so much like me, and honestly, that can be both amazing and terrifying. She is opinionated, stubborn, independent, funny, caring, and has absolutely no problem telling me exactly what she thinks. She can drive her brothers insane, and they return the favor regularly, but that's part of being siblings.
The hardest part about having a teenager is that they don't need you the same way younger kids do. She has a job, she has friends, and she has her own life. Finding time together isn't as easy as saying, "Let's go do something." It has to be intentional. Last weekend, we took a girls' road trip together, and I didn't realize how much I needed it until we were already on the road. For a little while, there were no schedules to manage, no curriculum to build, no dishes waiting in the sink, and no endless to-do list running through my head. It was just the two of us talking, laughing, driving, and making memories.
Somewhere during that trip, I realized something. I spend so much time trying to create meaningful moments for my family that sometimes I forget to slow down and enjoy them myself.
I think that's where a lot of my burnout comes from. Not because I don't love what I do, but because I care so deeply about all of it. I care about my kids. I care about homeschooling. I care about our family. I care about our future. I care about building things that matter. My brain rarely stops running because there is always something else to think about.
My husband helps more than people probably realize. He supports my ideas, helps with the kids, and puts up with my moods when I've taken on too much. But there is still something difficult to explain about the mental load of motherhood. It's the constant checklist running in the background. Did everyone brush their teeth? Do we have groceries? Did I answer that email? Did I switch the laundry? Why is there another collection of rocks, sticks, random papers, and mystery treasures on my kitchen counter? How many times do I need to explain that we do not need to keep everything?
The list never really ends.
Maybe that's why traditional self-care advice never worked for me. The problem was never that I needed a candle or a bubble bath. The problem was thinking that fifteen minutes of relaxation could somehow fix months of carrying too much. Real self-care looks different. Sometimes it looks like asking for help. Sometimes it looks like saying no. Sometimes it looks like stepping away from work before the work is finished. Sometimes it looks like spending one-on-one time with one of my kids. Sometimes it looks like admitting that I can't do everything.
I'm still learning that lesson.
I'm learning that the dishes can wait. The emails can wait. The laundry can wait. The curriculum idea will still be there tomorrow. The work will always be there. What won't always be there are these versions of my children. My boys won't always be excited to show me their latest RC project. My daughter won't always want to take random road trips with her mom.
Maybe that's the real lesson. Not how to fit more into my day or become more productive, but how to pause long enough to appreciate the life I've worked so hard to build. Because motherhood was never meant to be perfect. It was meant to be lived.
