Dear Men: She’s Mad, She’s Tired, and She’s Done

A letter from the women who carry it all,

and are done carrying the silence too.

Dear Men,
Not all men. Just the ones who refuse to see the invisible labor their partner does…

It’s time you open your eyes to the mental load that the women in your lives carry.

Imagine this:
You’re holding a barbell stacked with hundreds of pounds of plates.

You’re sweating, straining, and clearly maxed out. You just finished your last rep. You’re about to rack the barbell and take a breath when your wife walks up and says, “Hey, can you hold this five-pound bag of groceries real quick?”
Then she hangs the bag on the end of your barbell and walks away.

You’d likely be furious. You’d look at her like she’d lost her mind. And honestly? You’d be right. You’re at capacity. You physically can’t carry any more. You were seconds away from catching your breath before your next set, and she just up and hands you more weight like it’s nothing. So you yell for her as she walks away to let her know how fucking insane it is that she just expects you to be able to hold more weight.

Did you picture all that? Great. Because now I have a question for you.

Why is it that you look at her like she’s crazy when she says she can’t take on one more thing?

Before I continue, please note that this letter isn’t directed at any one man in particular. I know not all men are blind to the invisible weight their partner is hauling around. Some of you do see it.
And to you, I say thank you.

But many of you don’t.

The “man” I refer to within represents the patterns I’ve seen play out in relationships all around me. “He” is a fictional man who is a mosaic of so many husbands, boyfriends, fathers I’ve seen just not getting it. 
Good men. Kind men. Loving men.
Men who would take a bullet for their families, but still don’t realize they’ve handed off the emotional grenade that is the household’s mental labor… and walked away.

Mental load is the constant, exhausting, behind-the-scenes work of running a home, and it’s often completely invisible. But it is very real. And it is relentless.

When your wife (or girlfriend, or partner) is already hanging on by a thread because:

• That “quick” home renovation project you started three months ago still isn’t done,

• She’s managing the grocery list and the household budget,

• She’s rescheduling the kids’ doctor appointments again,

• She’s coordinating the carpool,

• She’s remembering who’s allergic to what,

• And who needs what form signed when,

• She’s making sure dinner gets made,

• And ensuring no one runs out of toilet paper…

  And then you say, “Hey, what time is my dentist appointment again?”

That right there? ☝️☝️
That’s a five-pound bag.

It might feel like nothing more than a simple question to you. But to her? It’s one more thing. One more responsibility handed over like it’s weightless. One more little ask that lands with a thud on a plate that’s already overflowing. One more reminder that even the simplest things default to her.

Because here’s the thing: mental labor is real. Even if you can’t see it.
You understand physical exhaustion. You know what it’s like to be wiped after a long day at work or a grueling gym session.

But the exhaustion she’s carrying? It doesn’t come with sweat or sore muscles.
It comes with brain fog, decision fatigue, short tempers, missed meals, silence, and sometimes even tears she hides from everyone, including you.

That blank, worn-out look she gives you when you ask her a simple question and she pauses for too long… that happens because her brain is already full.

Mental labor looks like:

• Planning meals

• Managing the calendar

• Remembering birthdays

• Knowing which kid likes which brand of mac and cheese

• Making sure the dog gets into the vet to get his rabies shot in time

• Budgeting, paying bills, tracking expenses

• Creating holiday magic

• Knowing what size shoes your kids wear

• Etc…the list goes on and on

And then there’s emotional labor.

Because of course, she doesn’t just manage the house.
She manages the people in it, too.

She helps the kids name their feelings and find tools to handle them.
She keeps her own emotions in check when she’s breaking inside.
And sometimes? She ends up regulating you, too.

Yes, you.
The other grown ass adult in the house. The one she shouldn’t have to regulate.

She knows what you look like when you’re under pressure. When you haven’t slept. When you skipped lunch. When work stress has you short-fused. And while she can hold space for your feelings, she is not your emotional dumping ground.

If you’re spiraling because you stayed up too late playing video games and now you’re hangry at 1 p.m. because you didn’t eat…
That’s your issue to deal with. Not hers.

Because, I’ll say it again, she is NOT your emotional dumping ground.

She is not your mom.
She is not your manager.
She is not your backup brain.

So next time something comes up that feels small…
Something “quick.”
Something that’s “no big deal.”

Before you go running to your wife to have her take care of it, please take a moment to pause.

Ask yourself:

• Can I handle this myself?

• Could I Google it?

• Will a quick phone call fix it?

• Can I check the shared calendar?

• Does my wife already have a system in place for me to acquire the information I need?

• Can I take 30 seconds and figure it out myself?

If the answer is yes, then don’t involve your wife. Because she is already carrying too much.

And if the answer is no and you’re genuinely at capacity too, then say that. Be honest. Be human. But don’t toss it to her like it’s weightless.

Acknowledge the ask.
Have the conversation.
Show her you see her. All of her.

And that you value the work she does that no one applauds.

Because when women say they’re tired, they don’t mean “I didn’t sleep well.”
They mean I’m drowning.
In invisible, unpaid, underappreciated labor that no one notices until it doesn’t get done.

Now I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this:
Something has to change.

We’re raising the next generation.

And if we want our daughters to grow up knowing their worth isn’t measured by how much they can carry,
And if we want our sons to grow up understanding the value of mental and emotional labor,
Then we have to start now.
We have to do better.
You, my good man, have to do better.

See her.
Help her.
Choose to carry the weight with her.

Sincerely,
The women who’ve been strong for too long.
The women who love you deeply, even when they feel invisible.
The women who ask nicely, clearly, and repeatedly yet still go unheard.
The women who hold it all together while quietly coming undone.
The women who carry the lists, the birthdays, the worries, the crumbs no one else sees.
The women who are tired of begging to be believed.
The women who are done hauling mountains while you sit and admire the view.