✨ Overwhelm Is Not a Personality Trait

For the longest time, I thought being overwhelmed was just… who I was.

Like it was baked into my DNA:
Hi, I’m Kate, professional helper, recovering yes-sayer, and former president of the Overcommitment Club.

I genuinely believed I was one of those people who functioned best on the edge of burnout. Like chaos was my brand and exhaustion was my personality trait.

But here’s the plot twist I didn’t see coming:

Overwhelm isn’t who you are. It’s a signal. A warning light. A quiet plea from your nervous system saying, “Hey… we’re at capacity.”

And yet, so many of us cling to it like a badge of honor. Look how much I can juggle. Look how needed I am.

💛 Busy Isn’t the Enemy, Misaligned Busy Is

Here’s the part I want to be clear about: I actually do thrive when I’m busy. I like momentum. I like purpose. I like days that feel full in a way that’s energizing and meaningful. When I don’t have much going on, I feel out of sorts; restless, disconnected, like I’m waiting for life to happen instead of participating in it.

The difference isn’t busy vs. not busy. The difference is what kind of busy. There’s a kind of busy that fills you up; things you’re passionate about, things that align with your values, things that give something back. And then there’s the other kind: the obligations you begrudgingly take on, the “I guess I should,” the things no one even asked for but you volunteered anyway, the roles that quietly drain you because they’re misaligned not because you’re incapable.

We can’t say no to everything. Some responsibilities are real and necessary. But we can choose what we prioritize and be more intentional about the rest.

And here’s the part I’m still learning: even the things that fill me up sometimes need a no because capacity matters. Energy is finite. Alignment doesn’t cancel limits. Being busy isn’t the problem. Being busy at the expense of yourself is.

💛 The Room Parent Year That Humbled Me

Last year, in a moment of pure optimism or delusion (unclear), I signed up to be room parent.

Chronic helper? ✔️
Special talent for volunteering before thinking? ✔️

I planned the parties, organized volunteers, coordinated crafts, bought snacks, handled emails, basically acted like the classroom cruise director. It was fine… until it very much wasn’t. By May, my soul was crispy. I was doing everything for everyone, including things no one even asked for. Fast forward to this year. My daughter asked again, all hopeful and sparkly-eyed: “Mom… are you going to be the room parent?”

Out of pure reflex I said, “Maybe.” You know, the classic I don’t want to crush your dreams but I also don’t want to ruin mine answer. But then I didn’t sign up. At all. I let the deadline pass like a rebellious little boundary queen while my guilt absolutely thrived whispering things like:

You’re disappointing your kid.
This isn’t you. You help.
You should be able to do this.

But on the other side? Peace. Actual, grounded, soul-level peace. Then party day came, and for the first time ever, I walked in as a mom, not the coordinator. I sat next to my daughter. Did the craft. Laughed. Was present. Not running around counting juice boxes and sweating glue sticks. Saying no gave me the moment I didn’t realize I’d been missing.

💛 The Night I Skipped Pizza + Movie Night

Then there was the time I skipped our usual Friday pizza-and-movie night with friends. Not because I don’t love them. (They are some of my most favorite people). I didn’t skip because anything was wrong. I was just over capacity. Completely tapped out. Nothing left for small talk or “being on.” The idea of trying to be present felt impossible.

So my husband took the kids. I stayed home. I sat in silence. Read. Breathed. Existed as a human who needed a minute. For the first hour, I felt like a terrible friend and a questionable mom. Then I felt relief. Space. Permission.

Sometimes saying no is the most loving thing you can do, for yourself and for the people you want to show up well for.

(And if you’re my pizza-movie-night friend reading this, I love you. Promise.)

💛 How to Say No (Without Writing a TED Talk)

This is where most of us start sweating, but saying no can be simple. Kind. Even freeing.

Try:

“I can’t take that on this year.”
“That doesn’t align with our capacity right now.”
“I’m intentionally slowing things down.”
“I’m not available.”

That’s it. No drama. No over-explaining. No apologizing for being a human with limits. A clean no is kinder than an overwhelmed, resentful yes. I am still practicing this and I don’t have it all figure out but I can tell you from experience, while the no may seem scary, the peace you find will breath life back into your soul at the time you may need it most.

💛 How to Hold the Boundary When Guilt Shows Up

Because it will. Mom guilt isn’t usually about doing something wrong. It’s about doing something different than what we’ve been conditioned to believe is “good.” We’ve learned that good moms say yes, help, volunteer, stay available, and stretch themselves thin. So when you finally say no, your brain perceives it as a threat, not a boundary. But guilt is a feeling, not a fact.Guilt loves to convince us that saying no means we’re selfish, failing, or letting someone down. But guilt isn’t truth, it’s just old patterns panicking.

Here’s what helps me stay steady:

Remember the cost of the old yes.
Last year’s burnout. Last year’s resentment. That version of you deserved better.

Anchor into values, not guilt.
My kids get a calmer, more present version of me when I’m not overextended. My peace matters.

Repeat the no, without the essay.
A boundary kept is a boundary honored. You do not owe a slideshow presentation.

Trust that someone else will step in.
Because they always do. You are not the last capable person on Earth.

Let guilt ride in the passenger seat if it needs to, but you hold the wheel.

And remember this one: Guilt fades. Resentment doesn’t.

💛 The Truth

Guilt doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice. It usually just means you made a different one than you’re used to. Overwhelm isn’t who you are. It’s information.

And when you start listening to it, really listening, you learn where your energy goes, what actually matters, and what no longer fits.

Not everything deserves a yes. Not everything deserves your time. And it’s okay to let that be enough.

Messy. Managed. Still figuring it out.