When Motherhood Feels Overwhelming and You Need to Hide

Some nights, after everything is done, I don’t sit on the couch.

I don’t turn on a show. I don’t unwind the way I probably should.

I go to my room.

Not in a dramatic way. Not slamming doors or anything like that.

Just… quietly.

Because if I sit on the couch, it means I’m available.

And if I’m available, it means:

“Mom.”
“Mom, I need you.”
“Mom, can you help me?”

On repeat.

So lately, I’ve been choosing the room.

Even when the babysitter is here—when I technically could go out or do something—I’ve stayed in. Not because I don’t want to go, but because I think I just needed a space where no one was asking anything from me.

And at bedtime?

It’s more of the same.

I would love to sit down and watch something—Only Murders in the Building, Bridgerton, anything where no one is calling my name every five minutes.

But instead, I’m in my room, hoping that if I stay in one place long enough, bedtime will actually stick.

Some nights it works.

Some nights… it really doesn’t.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Both kids have come in more times than I can count. One finally fell asleep. The other is next to me right now, curled up close, because at the end of the day she just wants to be near me.

And I let her.

Because I know what’s underneath it.

I know how much the days take out of them. I know how hard transitions are. I know that bedtime is when everything they held together starts to come undone.

But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave me feeling… worn.

Not in a dramatic way.

Just in that quiet, end-of-the-day way where you realize you haven’t had a single moment that was just yours.

And maybe that’s the part people don’t always say out loud.

You can love your kids completely…
and still need space from them.

You can understand their needs…
and still feel exhausted meeting them.

You can be their safe place…
and still wish, just for a little while, you didn’t have to be everything.

So if you’ve ever found yourself sitting in your room, just trying to breathe for a minute—

You’re not alone.

You’re not doing anything wrong.

You’re just a parent who has been needed all day…
and needed a moment back.

Tomorrow will come, and you’ll show up again.

But tonight?

It’s okay to sit here for a minute.