In Order To Make ‘Self-Care’ Work, We Can’t Suffer In Silence

"Mom, I'm making a list for my future,” my 7-year-old began. "I want to know who's going to be the boss in my family because you're the boss in ours.”

I couldn’t argue with him. In our family, I make all the things happen. My organized brain keeps my husband, son, and dogs on time for mealtimes and bedtimes all of the time. Being the boss may keep my crew on task, but it keeps my mind spinning. I’m so focused on my family that weeks rush by and I totally forget to pencil in a much-needed rest for me and my busy brain. When I pause to pee, I think: While I’m taking care of them why don’t they think to take care of me? Because this boss needs a break.

While I get a deep satisfaction knowing my boss skills help my family roll through life more smoothly, the keeping track of it all can leave my brain fried.

I knew this parenting gig would entail being on call 24/7, so I’d never really expected my 7-year-old to be independent enough to remember his daily schedule. I’m happy to help him lay the groundwork for this life know-how in a way that’s developmentally appropriate for his brain. My husband’s brain, however, is developed enough to know when it’s appropriate to help out his partner.

“Honey, you want cheese pizza and a milkshake for dinner tonight,” my husband says.

I’m speechless. He’s completely right. I’ve said nothing to lead him to this conclusion. Sensing my shock, he adds, “I could just tell by the look on your face.”

If my husband can instinctively know what kind of food I’m craving by the way my eyes are blinking that afternoon, then why doesn’t he know when I need some downtime?

I expect my husband to catch the signals that I need time to recharge, but like all my new haircuts ever, he doesn’t notice.

There are obvious hints like my overtired mind not being able to answer simple questions and hair-drying rituals that coincidentally last as long as episodes of The Queen. I wait for my partner to offer his assistance and to tell me to go rest and reboot, but life continues as normal. The longer this pattern goes on, I feel unseen and the more my resentment builds.

While my husband might be able to predict the snack I’m craving, it seems he can't really read my mind.

I need to use my words and tell him what I want — and sometimes that’s a break. Being the boss may keep my family on track, but this role keeps me feeling separate from them. When I’m honest with what I need and ask for help, I feel our connection strengthen again. Not to mention, modeling this vulnerability demonstrates a valuable lesson in taking care of each other for my son. This way I get the self-care I’m craving — along with a pizza and milkshake for dinner.