When the World Feels Heavy and Motherhood Doesn’t Pause

I wake up thinking about the world before my feet hit the floor. What happened overnight. What might happen today. What my nervous system hasn’t had a chance to digest yet.

And then, almost immediately, someone needs milk. Someone can’t find their shoes. Someone wants to tell me a story that starts in the middle and makes no sense, but somehow feels urgent.

I move through my morning holding two realities at once: a world that feels loud, heavy, and uncertain, and a home that needs me present, regulated and kind.

I schedule appointments. I pack lunches. I scroll headlines while brushing someone else’s teeth. I try to make sense of big things while attending to very small ones. I love my children fiercely and I worry about the world they’re growing up in, sometimes in the same breath.

This is motherhood right now. Not because we’re doing it wrong, but because we’re doing it awake. As a therapist and a mother, I see how often moms question themselves in moments like these.

Why can’t I focus? Why do I feel heavy and grateful at the same time? Why does my body feel tense even on “good” days?

There is nothing wrong with you. Your nervous system is responding exactly as it was designed to — taking in both the needs of your child and the broader world that shapes their future.

The work is not to shut one out so you can survive the other. The work is learning how to hold both with more care and less self-judgment.

Here are a few gentle supports I often offer mothers navigating this tension:

1. Name the layer you’re in.

   Ask yourself: Am I in the “world” layer right now, or the “home” layer?

   You don’t need to resolve both at once. Naming helps your nervous system organize instead of spiral.

2. Practice intentional containment.

   Give yourself a specific time to take in hard information, then intentionally close it. A phrase like, “I can care about this and come back to my child right now” helps the brain shift without guilt.

3. Regulate before you reassure.

   When the world feels overwhelming, your child doesn’t need explanations, they need your regulated presence. Even 30 seconds of grounding (feet on the floor, a slow exhale) matters more than the right words.

4. Release the myth of constant steadiness.

   You are allowed to be both a safe place and a human who feels. Modeling repair, rest, and emotional honesty is not a failure of motherhood — it’s one of its greatest gifts.

Mothering in a world that feels on fire requires tenderness, not perfection. The fact that you are still showing up, still loving, still asking how to do this well, tells me everything I need to know about the kind of mother you already are. You are not alone, dear friend — we see you, and we are with you in it.

With All The Love,

Sage