Ko-fi helps me keep going
Some days, my body hurts. But what wears me down the most isn’t always the pain—it’s everything I have to think about.
The medications I need to refill.
The appointment I forgot to schedule.
The symptoms I’m tracking that no doctor ever seems to take seriously.
The food I have to plan around.
The energy I have to ration.
The guilt I feel for saying “I can’t” again.
And I carry all of that in silence.
Living with chronic illness means more than just managing physical symptoms. It means carrying a constant, invisible weight—a mental load—that never really goes away. It’s the part no one sees. And it can be just as exhausting as the illness itself.
The term “mental load” is often used to describe the behind-the-scenes labor involved in managing a household or caregiving—remembering appointments, planning meals, keeping track of what needs to be done. But for people with chronic illness, the mental load takes on a different, heavier shape.
It’s the endless stream of decisions, worries, and reminders that pile up just to survive the day.
It’s being your own case manager, medical advocate, symptom tracker, and emotional regulator—all at once.
It’s always thinking ahead because your body might not cooperate later.
Unlike physical fatigue, the mental load isn’t always visible. But it’s there. Constantly. And it adds up.
Even when we’re “resting,” our minds are working overtime. Here are just a few examples of the invisible labor Spoonies carry every single day:
Tracking Symptoms: Monitoring pain levels, flare triggers, side effects, and patterns no one else sees.
Managing Medications: Remembering dosages, refills, side effects, and how they interact.
Planning Energy Use: Calculating whether a shower will leave enough energy to make food later.
Preparing for Appointments: Writing down questions, bringing records, rehearsing how to advocate without being dismissed.
Making Backup Plans: Having to plan just in case your body gives out halfway through the day.
Navigating Accessibility: Wondering if today’s location will have a seat, a ramp, or clean restrooms.
Masking Symptoms: Putting on a smile so you’re not treated “differently” or brushed off as dramatic.
Fielding Advice: Internally filtering through “helpful” suggestions while managing your frustration.
It’s not that we’re doing too much—it’s that we’re always thinking, anticipating, adjusting.
And that takes a toll.
The mental load isn’t just about tasks—it’s also about emotional labor.
We carry the weight of:
Trying not to scare people we love.
Smiling through symptoms so they won’t worry—or so they won’t leave.
Making others comfortable with our reality.
Downplaying how bad it really is because the truth makes people uncomfortable.
Managing grief quietly.
Mourning the life we used to have while acting like we’re fine.
Feeling guilty for needing help.
Wondering if we’re a burden, if we’re asking too much, or if we’re just “too much.”
It’s heavy. And even if we don’t talk about it, it builds up inside. Over time, it can lead to emotional numbness, depression, or shutdown—not because we’re weak, but because we’re tired in every way a person can be tired.
You might not even realize it’s happening at first. But the signs are there:
You forget things easily—even things that matter.
You feel numb, detached, or overstimulated all the time.
You overthink every decision, even small ones.
You crash mentally, not just physically, after something “small.”
You stop reaching out because you just don’t have the words anymore.
This isn’t you being flaky or dramatic. This is your nervous system—and your mind—overloaded from carrying too much for too long.
You’ve been on high alert for days, months, even years. Always planning around pain. Always thinking two steps ahead. Always bracing for the next symptom flare, the next invalidating comment, the next round of emotional gymnastics just to get through a doctor’s visit. That kind of constant mental tension isn’t sustainable—and your body knows it, even if you try to ignore it.
What looks like “shutting down” from the outside is often just your system begging for stillness.
You can’t always take the weight off completely. But you can ease it a little.
Here are some small, sustainable ways to help lighten your mental load:
Keep a journal, symptom log, or “brain dump” notebook to get thoughts out of your head. It doesn’t have to be pretty, polished, or even make sense to anyone else. The goal isn’t to create a record for someone else to read—it’s to give your brain permission to let go.
Thoughts take up space. Writing them down clears that space so you’re not holding everything at once. And on the hard days, you can look back and say, “I’ve survived this before—I can do it again.”
A whiteboard calendar, sticky notes, or even a color-coded highlighter system (like the one I use in my day planner) can make your mental tasks visible and less overwhelming.
When everything stays in your head, it multiplies. Seeing it written out—clearly and gently—can make the day feel more manageable. Visual tools turn your swirling mental tabs into something you can see and structure. It’s like giving your mind a chance to exhale.
Set routines or defaults to cut back on decision fatigue. Wear the same outfit when you don’t feel like deciding. Rotate through the same three easy meals. Build tiny rhythms that remove friction from your day. This doesn’t mean giving up spontaneity—it means preserving your precious energy for things that matter more. Chronic illness already forces too many hard decisions. Take back control where you can by making the simple ones automatic.
Instead of “I need help,” try: “Can you grab my refill while you’re out?” or “Can you come sit with me for 15 minutes?”
It’s hard to ask for help—especially when you don’t want to feel like a burden. But most people do want to help… they just don’t know how. Giving them clear, bite-sized ways to support you makes it easier on both sides. You deserve support that doesn’t add to your stress.
Just one. Big or small. Say no to a plan you’re too tired for. Say no to a phone call you’re not ready to take. Say no to the pressure of keeping your house spotless. Every “no” you give to something that drains you makes more room for something that soothes you. You don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to explain everything. Permission granted to protect your peace.
Even if you didn’t do much today, you thought through a lot.
You made hundreds of micro-decisions. You managed discomfort without showing it. You calculated what you could handle and adjusted a thousand tiny things to get through the day. That’s real work—even if no one claps for it.
Honor the invisible effort. It’s not laziness. It’s resilience. And it deserves to be named.
If you’ve ever felt drained without “doing” anything, this is why. If your mind is loud, cluttered, or constantly spinning, this is why. If your heart is heavy for reasons you can’t explain, this is why.
Living with chronic illness means carrying more than what shows on the surface. The pain, the symptoms, the fatigue—they’re real. But so is the invisible load behind your eyes, the one you manage in silence, day after day.
So if you feel tired, overwhelmed, or emotionally wiped out… please know this:
You’re not failing. You’re carrying more than most people ever see.
And you deserve tools, support, and kindness that honor all of that.
💜 One Spoon at a Time, Alice 💜
May 8, 2025