One day, everything suddenly stopped. An invisible wall rose in front of me, and I crashed into it with a force I never thought possible. I, who had always been in control, balancing life with three children, a husband, a dog, a big house, and a garden—suddenly couldn’t do anything. My brain, which used to handle a thousand tasks at once, now felt like a vacuum where nothing stuck. My concentration was gone. I barely remembered what I had for breakfast, and every task felt like an overwhelming mountain to climb.

This first happened to me in the spring of 2021. I cried almost all the time, over small things, over everything. Everything felt black, as if life had lost its color. Nothing was fun anymore, and I couldn’t even remember what used to make me smile or feel joy. It was as if I had lost touch with everything that once meant something to me.

I just wanted to cry.

It was a feeling of total hopelessness that took over. What used to be minor stressors now felt like insurmountable obstacles. The home and garden suddenly looked like a battlefield to me. The children, whom I love more than anything, felt like yet another task on an endless list that I could no longer manage. Work, which once gave me a sense of pride, was now just a place where I felt inadequate. And all those critical thoughts… they circled, day and night, like a never-ending stream of self-criticism. I was never good enough, fast enough, or capable enough.

My inner critic was always there, a constant voice reminding me of my shortcomings. No matter what I did, it was there, whispering that I wasn’t enough. I struggled with guilt, constantly overwhelmed by the feeling of inadequacy, especially when it came to my children. When I didn’t have the energy to play, help, or be as present as I wanted, the guilt gnawed at me. I felt like I had failed them, and that critical voice did nothing but reinforce my sense of being an inadequate mother.

In the fall of 2021, I went back to work, even though I hadn’t truly rested at all. It was as if my body was on autopilot, and my brain couldn’t slow down after running at full speed for so long. Even when I tried to relax, the thoughts continued to spin without pause. I chose to change jobs, taking on a role with less responsibility, and although it was a big change, it felt okay. It was a step in the right direction—an attempt to create more balance, even though I still carried the weight of that deep exhaustion.

Then, the problems with one of my children started. She was being excluded and bullied, and her whole world changed. She slept poorly and was harassed online, and it was as if her pain pulled us both into a dark hole. I tried to stay strong for her, but the worry became overwhelming. I began sleeping even worse than before, and my anxious thoughts multiplied and grew stronger.

We fought on, both of us, for a long time. It was tough, and some days felt like they would never end. But despite everything, we kept going, step by step. I’m incredibly proud of my child—of how she managed to stay strong, despite the pain and all the challenges. Watching her be so resilient, even when it felt like the world was falling apart, filled me with admiration. She showed a strength and courage I didn’t think was possible, and it gave me the strength to keep fighting too.

In the end, I crashed again, in the spring of 2023. My brain could no longer handle even the simplest thoughts. Everything felt hopeless and overwhelming. I cried all the time, just like I had before. It was as if all my energy and emotions had drained from me once again.

To be continued…