The Slow Burnout

For weeks, really, for months, I was doing it all.

No dish in the sink, no laundry, house spotless, meals cooked.

I was living in survival mode: constantly tired, but who knew rest? Mothers don’t rest. That’s normal, right? That’s life.

Slowly, fatigue built up. Anxiety crept in. Resentment followed. Yet I kept my head held high, putting on a brave face. “If I can just get through today” became “If I can just make it until lunchtime” until eventually, I couldn’t get out of bed at all.

Week after week, someone was sick. Being a mother to twin toddlers and a preschooler, life seemed to be getting harder, not easier. My husband worked constantly, and when he came home, his mind was still at work or his body was too exhausted to function.

I didn’t want to live this way anymore, always tired, always sad, always angry or irritable. I was losing my patience over small things and looking back afterward with shame. I was forgetting the important things. Nights became tiring and restless. My mind always working, I couldn’t find rest. I forgot to do this and that, I need to do this and that, are they eating right? I shouldn’t have answered him like that and the dare I say it am I a good mother? I was self-loathing. 

Then one day, my phone broke.

And in that unexpected moment, quiet slipped in. This was a turning point. A lightbulb moment. Meeting the emotions I was burying under comparison or mindless scrolling. Or thinking doing it all was enough. 

At first, the silence was unwelcome.

I tried to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t have to think or deal with it. Day one: laundry and dishes. Day two: emptying and reorganizing the wardrobe, move the bed. Day three: noticing invisible cobwebs hanging from one spot in the corner of the ceiling.

“Let’s paint that spot behind the wardrobe we skipped.”

“Let’s scrub the roof.”

“Wait! I should fix that outside light that’s been broken for years.”

I kept moving, keeping my mind off it, because stopping felt dangerous.

Then came day four.

The tears flowed.

I can’t do this.

For the first time, I truly felt it.

I didn’t want to get out of bed.

My home was a mess.

I love my children deeply, but sometimes it was simply too much. Chasing after two-year-old twins on the same schedule, navigating growth spurts, worrying because they weren’t eating well, wondering if I was failing. Someone was always sick or crying or needing me. No time for me. I was losing weight, losing myself, not eating enough, having headaches and just down. I was spent. My usual small self-care tasks where not working this time. 

I was done. I was suffocating, drowning in perfection and fatigue. Something needed to change. I needed to do things differently. I was exhausted. I needed things to change drastically, NOW. 

One day, after yet another hospital visit with one of my children, I reached the end of myself.

I was walking home, overwhelmed and exhausted, feeling sorry for myself, when the Holy Spirit stopped me in my tracks.

“Mint.”

Just one word. One profound word. 

I stopped and sat down right at the beginning of the path leading home.

Defeated.

And there, something shifted.

A lightbulb moment.

The Holy Spirit was showing me something new. I wrote about Mint in a recent blog post here: Motherhood Lessons of resilience from the Mint Bush

But the Holy Spirit is showing me more. More? Maybe a system, pillars? 7 pillars for mothers, for homemaking.

Not another cleaning checklist.

Not another to-do list or another “you’re failing if you don’t do it all” message. Or another “do ABC or another small self-care win.” I mean those worked yes, maybe for a week or month then it’s back to survival mode. 

So, I needed something deeper. A fixed but flexible solution? Or one that keeps growing and getting better. A grace system that is forgiving when I fall, because I will definitely fall as I am human. 

A way of understanding homemaking, not as mindless, endless chores, but as a mission. A sacred calling. A grace calling. A non-perfect calling. A God-chose-you Call and Purpose. 

And not one that requires perfection.

For weeks, the Lord kept bringing one word to mind: tassels.

Again, and again.

Until it finally clicked.

Our imperfections are fertile ground for God’s strength.

For so long, I kept handing Him the ropes only to take them back again. I kept performing. Holding everything together. Pretending I was fine until the pressure finally broke me.

And in that moment, He said:

“Stop! Talitha Koum, I’m here. I care. Let Me show you another way.”

Not a path to burnout or striving.

But the way He intended from the beginning.

A path designed for our benefit.

A path of peace.

I took out my notebook, my pen, and my Bible.

Since then, He has been showing me mothers throughout Scripture. Not only the well-known mothers like Mary or Elizabeth, but the quiet ones. Some just referred to as she, The overlooked ones. The women hidden in plain sight whose lives reveal profound truths about faith, stewardship, and homemaking.

He has even given me a fresh perspective on the Proverbs 31 woman.

And now, He is instructing me to share what He is teaching me.

I’m slowly gathering the pieces together; the courage, the papers, systems, pillars, baskets, notes, and ideas. 

Because Slowness -Everydayness is also one thing He is emphasizing. No rush, no pressure. 

A new calling.

A new teaching.

Perhaps seven pillars.

Perhaps many biblical mothers or mother figures or seasons of motherhood, yes characteristics of mothers.

Perhaps biblical homemaking viewed through an entirely different lens.

Whatever shape it ultimately takes, I know this:

I am not alone.

And neither are you.

The world and especially social media, places impossible expectations and standards on mothers. Hold it all together. Do it all. Do it perfectly. You are not allowed to speak up, not allowed to struggle, not allowed to burn out or be anxious. 

And when we can’t do it all?

We face criticism. Oh, the shame!

From other mothers.

From non-mothers.

From people who have never walked in our shoes yet feel qualified to execute judgement and jury. 

We absorb those expectations and place them on ourselves. Then we suffer silently when we inevitably fall short.

But for the past few months, I have sensed the Lord saying:

“Enough.”

“I will show you a different path.”

A path marked by His peace rather than anxiety.

A path where mothers are strengthened rather than depleted.

The enemy attacks mothers relentlessly because the future is being raised in our homes.

Raise the mother, and you raise the generation.

A mother’s influence is powerful, often far more powerful than she realizes.

Yet the enemy blinds us with the mundane. He keeps our eyes fixed on the endless tasks and responsibilities so that we lose sight of our purpose. Giving us a false sense of freedom, but freedom at the cost of what? Our future? Our generations? A lost generation. Lost skills? A generation that wants nothing to do with us?

But we are more than caretakers of a home.

We are stewards.

Shepherds.

Daughters of The King.

And while the world’s instruction manual leads to exhaustion, God has given us His own.

The wisdom is woven throughout Scripture sometimes subtle, yet profoundly practical. Sometimes loud, we learn from mothers, from people in the bible. 

And He does not ask us to do it in our own strength.

He gives us His power.

His grace.

His love.

His rest.

As Jesus says:

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

Over the coming months, as the Holy Spirit leads, I will be sharing what I learn and the mothers, He brings to my attention throughout Scripture.

There will be teachings.

There may be books, courses, workshops and communities.

Most importantly, there will be encouragement for weary mothers who need to know they are not alone. There will be pillars to homemaking, a renewed purpose. A new why? A new How, and the answer to both. And a promise that it does get better if you let Him do it. But God!

So stay tuned.

Cheering you on, 

Shalom!

Following God’s Ways, 

Natasha Chetty.