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I’m currently on day two of summer. And yep—it’s a transition for everyone.
We’ve given our two older boys a lot of freedom this year—no structured camps until they leave for their month-long sleepaway camp in Minnesota. Our youngest, though, is doing a 6-week summer school program. And I’d bet he’s feeling the shift more than the other two. Eek!
For me, the transition so far has felt like the title of this post: It all falls on me.
It’s keeping track of the big kids at home while I’m back and forth to my office seeing clients. It’s the midday, “Can you take me here, Mom?” while I’m trying to write this newsletter, prep a podcast, or, you know—run a business. It’s walking in the door to wrappers on the floor, an unloaded dishwasher, a dog whining to go out… and boys who all seem to need a reminder to check their to-do lists. Sigh.
The Physical and Mental Load
It’s not just the physical logistics of summer that ramp up—it’s also the mental load. Like the nerves my youngest has about starting summer school. Or my own anxiety about whether he’ll lose all his clothes at camp. I mean, I’m the one who finds his exact socks (hello, sensory issues) or locates his missing hat daily. Who’s going to do that for him?
This invisible labor is hard to quantify—but it feels like a hum constantly in the background.
It’s the emotional attunement so many parents—especially mothers—carry. And while it often comes from a place of love and care, it can be just as exhausting as the physical work.
That internal phrase, “It all falls on me,” keeps showing up in my body and mind. And I am seeing that it deserves a deeper look.
Your version of this thought likely stems from different circumstances—caring for aging parents, running a team, holding space for others in your life—but I’d bet you’ve felt it too.
And it’s heavy.
To be clear: I’m not trying to mindset-hack my way out of reality. I am grateful for the extra summer time I get with them. But that doesn’t make the logistics—the camps, the rides, the extra meals—imaginary!
Still, I wonder: Am I holding this belief in a way that’s making everything feel heavier than it already is?
The Thought That Tightens Everything
That thought—It all falls on me—is stressor number one.
In my mind, it turns into hypervigilance. I start mentally rehearsing the day’s to-do list on repeat:
Did I send those forms?
Did I pack sunscreen?
Did I send that video to my client?
And in my body, it shows up as tightness in my chest, raised shoulders, that buzzing urgency that makes everything feel like it needs to happen now.
I keep thinking: Can I get a summer break from this narrating mind?!
It’s such a funny realization—my mind is convinced it’s the boss, that I need this voice to keep everything from falling apart. But lately, I’ve been experimenting with giving it less power—putting it in a mental “waiting room,” so to speak. And when I do, I notice something surprising: things still get done. But they get done with more ease, contentment, and less stress.
Now that feels like a summer break.
And it makes me wonder—how much of the pressure I feel is really about what’s on my plate… and how much is about the belief that I’m the only one who can hold it all together?
Because if I’m honest, that belief has a long history. It’s tied to a version of myself that gets her value from being the one who anticipates everyone’s needs. The fixer. The dependable one. The glue.
No wonder it feels hard to let go. It’s not just a to-do list I’m carrying—it’s an identity.
The Illusion of Control (and the Freedom in Letting Go)
There are so many moments when I thought I had it all lined up perfectly… and it still fell apart.
Like the summer I booked three camps and only realized the night before that I’d signed up my youngest for before care only.
Or the time I coordinated dinner, tickets, and babysitters for four couples to go to a concert… and the lead singer stopped after one song with food poisoning.
And then there are the times I didn’t have it all together… and somehow, it still worked out beautifully.
So this summer, I’m trying something new.
When I catch myself in mind like rehearsing the day (again), or imagining how my son is doing at camp in ways I’ll never fully know—I pause. I take a breath. I see what it’s like in my body. What do I feel? Is there any constriction? How is my breath? This helps to remind me: this is the only moment I can actually be in.
I remember to do this 33% of the time. 🙂 I still get swept up in thought. But that’s SO normal! It’s all part of it. But there is so much grace in letting my body lead versus my mind. And there is also this feeling of self-compassion that says, you don’t have to carry all of it, all the time!
Summer Playtime
The only way to see if this makes any kind of difference in our lives is to try it, to play around with it! And one thing continues to be clear: how I hold my life matters just as much as what I’m holding.
So here’s to doing the best we can—while remembering we’re not machines. We’re human.
Here’s to catching ourselves in the cray moments of life… and choosing presence, even just for a breath.
And here’s to gently questioning the voice that says, “It all falls on you.”
Because maybe… it doesn’t.