dailynewsnblog
What would you think if I told you I was writing this from the car, parked in my driveway, because the thought of going inside and sitting down at my desk feels like the most impossible task? What would you say if I admitted that, despite having my health, a job I love, a beautiful family, and an old but new-to-us house in a city we love, I need deep breaths and lots of magnesium to help me sleep?
It’s not that I’m ungrateful or unhappy or even discontent. It’s not any of those things. Rather, I’m overwhelmed by life’s pace and how I can’t ever seem to sit in one moment long enough to enjoy my day, let alone exhale. And so I have become fond of sitting in my car, especially in early motherhood, so much so that I retitled my Substack to phone notes because I only ever write on my phone. The car feels small enough to contain me.
“I’m overwhelmed by life’s pace and how I can’t ever seem to sit in one moment long enough to enjoy my day, let alone exhale.”
I don’t remember being overwhelmed in my twenties. I chalk it up to getting older, busier, and living in a city that requires, then rewards, hustle and grind. I love a good hustle. I love having my schedule so packed that I need apps and notifications to remind me of what comes next. At least, I used to. Or maybe I tricked myself into thinking that way. Being busy meant I was important. Being overwhelmed meant I was on the cusp of great success. Or something.
Just last night, my daughter and I were sitting in the backyard, a sparse square of grass completely exposed to the Southern California sun. We’ve had to cut the bushes down at our old-but-new-to-us house because of spiders, decayed roots, and future house projects (nothing can touch the perimeter when we repaint, they tell us). And so it’s just grass surrounded by dirt and brick and electric wires. I assumed this would overwhelm me when I heard what needed to happen, but then we went and sat in the grass, and I became attuned to the blades on my bare feet. We blew bubbles from a wand and practiced steps (she’s so close!) and enjoyed the evening shade before bed. It was simple and sweet and also calming. Then the dinner/bath/get-ready-for-the-work-week dance pulled me back into a vortex.
“Being overwhelmed meant I was on the cusp of great success. Or something.”
But I keep thinking about that moment in the grass. How quickly the feeling changed when I stopped trying to get somewhere else and simply paid attention to where I was. Maybe this is what early motherhood looks like. Maybe this is what it looks like to be a millennial in late 2026. Are we all overwhelmed by our lists and our projects and our goals and our dreams that are somehow becoming less attainable thanks to the economy and tktktk? (Tk because you don’t need reminding of this lament.) My social algorithm confirms this hypothesis: that so many of us are overwhelmed and trying to tread water. And yet I want to feel different. I want my approach to life to look different. I want my daughter to see me live differently.
“And yet I want to feel different. I want my approach to life to look different. I want my daughter to see me live differently.”
One way I’ve been doing this is very practical and not revolutionary at all. In the old-but-new-to-us house, I’ve been forced to go through my physical belongings. Is there anything more freeing than taking inventory of what you have and getting rid of the majority of it? Clearing clutter from my eyesight has been a spiritual practice. I’ve gone through clothes (no, you won’t someday fit into those jeans you thrifted in Paris when you were 26) and linens and dishes and books. Also, USB and extension cords. Why are there so many?
A more difficult practice, and one that feels impossible on most days, is the act of saying no to almost everything. No to another episode. No to a weekday event. No to answering every email. No to adding more items to my cart to get the free next-day shipping. No to staying up late. I’ve come to believe there are seasons in life that invite us to say yes with all the exclamation points, but that this isn’t one of them. Choosing the opposite has allowed me to slow down and become more present.
“A more difficult practice, and one that feels impossible on most days, is the act of saying no to almost everything.”
I try to check in with myself daily, sometimes hourly, to ask about the source of my overwhelm. What is making me feel this way? What am I trying to squeeze in that doesn’t actually need to happen today? What am I saying yes to because I feel like I should? Yes, I’m overwhelmed by being too busy and saying yes too often and not getting enough sleep. But the more confronting revelation during this season has been this:
I feel most overwhelmed when I’m not being true to myself and honoring who I am. For me, this is most obvious when I forgo my writing and reading practice. Reading heals me. Writing expands me and brings me home. When I abandon these practices because they no longer fit into my schedule, everything and everyone else suffers. I suspect this is because feeding the soul is key to showing up as a whole and healthy person, as a whole and healthy mother. Akin to putting on your own life mask.
I don’t have a neat conclusion for this. I am still overwhelmed (I’m overwhelmed while writing this), but maybe the goal isn’t to flee from the feeling, but to notice it and ask myself what changes I need to make to find my way home. Home is peace. Home is a deep breath. Home is sitting in the grass with my daughter. Slowing down isn’t about doing less; it’s about stopping long enough to notice where I am, what I feel, and what I need. If that pause is enough to make everything feel a little less overwhelming, I’ll take it.
Kayti Christian is a Senior Content Strategist at The Good Trade. With an MFA in Nonfiction Creative Writing, her work has appeared in TODAY, Shondaland, and The New York Times. Since 2017, Kayti has been uncovering and reviewing the best sustainable home brands and wellness products. Her personal journey through four years of fertility treatments has inspired her to write extensively about women’s healthcare and reproductive access. Beyond her work at The Good Trade, Kayti is the creator of phone notes, a Substack newsletter with 7,000 subscribers, and the cohost of the FriedEggs Podcast, which delves into IVF and infertility.
