The Intentional Midlife Mom Podcast | Simple, Practical Life, Home & Mindset Solutions for Moms Over 40

Ep. 183: I'm Tired of Being the One Who Holds It All Together — And He Doesn't Even Know I Do

• Season 2 • Episode 183

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Let me tell you what nobody sees.

She's the glue.
 The memory.
 The calendar.
 The compass.

She's the one who plans the college visits and remembers who needs a cavity filled.

The one who's worrying at 2 a.m. about her kid's anxiety—whether they have real friends, whether they'll be okay, whether that comment they made last week was just teenage drama or something darker.

She's the one tracking everyone's emotional temperature.

Noticing when her daughter gets quiet.
 When her son starts withdrawing.
 When her husband checks out.

She's the one managing the big stuff nobody else even knows needs to be managed:

The financial stress of older kids.
 The logistics of aging parents.
 The weight of keeping everyone emotionally afloat while she's drowning.

And somehow, in the middle of all that…

He thinks she's "just in a mood."

He thinks he deserves a high-five for picking up dinner—while she's carrying their entire life.

There’s so much to unpack here - so much that we women can understand about what he’s actually doing and not doing…and how to explain what life’s like for us in a way he can actually understand it WITHOUT getting defensive or turning it back around on us. 

This is Episode 4 of the series:
 "Marriage Conversations Midlife Besties Are Having (But Afraid to Say Out Loud)."

I'm Jennifer Roskamp, and this is The Intentional Midlife Mom podcast.

Welcome, I’m so glad you’re here.


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Well, hey friend, I'm going to repeat what I said in the opening because it really sets the foundation for where we need to start. I'm actually telling you what nobody sees. She's the glue, the memory, the calendar, the compass. She's the one who plans the college visits and remembers who needs a cavity filled. The one who's worrying at 2 a.m. about her kids' anxiety, whether they have real friends, whether they'll be okay, whether that comment they made last week, was it just teenage drama or was it actually something darker?

She's the one who's tracking everyone's emotional temperature, noticing when her daughter gets quiet, when her son starts withdrawing, when her husband checks out. She's the one managing the big stuff nobody even knows needs to be managed. The financial stress of older kids, the logistics of aging parents, the weight of keeping everyone emotionally afloat while she's drowning. And somehow in the middle of all of that, he thinks she's just in a mood. He thinks he deserves a high five for picking up dinner while she's carrying their entire life.

And after all of this, she's so tired, not just physically tired, soul tired. Tired of being the only one who sees what needs to be done. Tired of being the only one who carries the weight of what could go wrong. Tired of holding it all together and no one even sees it. This is episode four in the series I'm calling, Marriage Conversations Midlife Besties Are Having, But Are Afraid to Stay Out Loud. And so welcome, I'm glad you're here.

Well, over the past three episodes, beginning with episode 180, we've been unpacking the hard truths about midlife marriage. We've talked about wondering if you still love him, about why his old way of showing up, it just doesn't work anymore. And about feeling emotionally invisible, even to the person who's supposed to know you best. And so in this episode, we're going straight to the heart of what's breaking you. It's the invisible load, the weight that you carry that no one seems or...

seems to care about. And so today we're pulling back the curtain on what the invisible load really looks like in midlife. We're going to talk about why his help often makes you feel more alone. And we're going to talk about the truth behind why you're so resentful and so tired of holding it all together. And so by the end of this episode, you'll have words for what you've been carrying and permission to stop pretending it's not crushing you. So here we go. Well, let's start with what's visible, the stuff that everyone can see.

The scheduling, the logistics, the errands, making sure everyone gets where they need to be, keeping track of appointments, school events, work schedules, managing the household, meals, groceries, laundry, bills. That's the visible load. And honestly, most husbands can see that, at least some of it. They know you're busy. They know you're juggling a lot. But here's what they don't see. The invisible load, the mental and emotional labor that runs 24 seven in the background of your brain. Let me paint you a picture of what that actually looks like. It's.

Lying awake at 2 a.m. Running through tomorrow's schedule and next week's and next month's. Who needs to be where? What needs to happen before that can happen? What you forgot to do today that's going to cause a problem tomorrow? It's the constant emotional monitoring of everyone in your home. Reading the room, sensing the shifts, noticing when someone's off. When your teenager's been too quiet. When your husband's been distant. When your adult child's texts, well, they've gotten shorter. It's holding space for everyone's emotions except your own. Being the sounding board.

the mediator, the emotional thermostat, the one who absorbs everyone else's stress so they don't have to feel it as much. It's managing teen outbursts and trying not to take them personally when your kid says things like, I can't wait to leave here and never come back. You don't understand anything. Just leave me alone. And you know they're just being a teenager. You know it's not really about you, but it still lands. It still hurts. And you still lie awake wondering, did I say the thing? Did I say that wrong? Did I push too hard?

Did I not push hard enough? Are they okay? Really okay? What if they're not? What if I'm missing something? It's the long-term worry about their future. Not just the logistics, but the existential worry. Will they be okay in this world? Are they resilient enough? Did we do enough? What if we failed them? It's carrying the weight of decisions that no one else is even thinking about yet. Should we help them pay for college or make them take out loans? Should we let them move back home or push them to figure it out on their own? Should we say something about that relationship or just stay out of it?

It's anticipating what's coming and trying to prepare for it before it becomes a crisis. Noticing when your aging parent is declining, researching therapists before your kid hits rock bottom, planning for financial changes before they become disasters. It's the constant mental load of being three steps ahead while everyone else lives in the present. And here's what makes it so exhausting. This isn't just busyness. This is emotional over-functioning. It's not about doing more tasks. It's about carrying the emotional weight of everyone else's life.

while your own gets ignored. And it's eroding your sense of self. Because when you're constantly tuned into everyone else, when you're always managing, anticipating, worrying, there's no space left for you. No space to feel your own feelings. No space to think your own thoughts. No space to exist outside of all of the rules. And that, that's what's breaking you. It's not the visible load. It's not the tasks. It's the invisible weight of being the primary one who sees.

who cares and who carries it all. And here's the part that makes you want to scream. He thinks he's helping. He picks up dinner once and feels like a hero. He walks in with takeout and genuinely expects you to be grateful, maybe even impressed that he thought of you. He does the yard work or takes in the car and thinks, we're good, right? Like those visible tasks somehow balance out the invisible weight you're carrying. He unloads the dishwasher without being asked and wants applause.

He actually pauses, looks at you waiting for acknowledgement, and meanwhile, you're unraveling under the weight of decisions and emotions he hasn't even noticed. Let me give you an example. Let's say your teenager is struggling, really struggling. Maybe it's anxiety. Maybe it's depression. Maybe they're being bullied at school or falling apart after a breakup. You've been up for nights worrying about it, researching therapists, trying to figure out how to help without making it worse. You've had hard conversations, the kind where you're trying to hold space for their pain

while your own heart is breaking. Maybe you've held them while they've cried. You've listened to words that have cut deep. I can't do this anymore. No one understands me. I hate my life. You've carried the weight of their struggle alone. You've made the appointments. You've done the research. You've worried about whether they're safe, whether they'll be okay, whether you're doing enough. And your husband, well, he mowed the lawn. And then he walks in proud of himself and says, come here a minute, and proceeds to walk you outside so you can ooh and about the lawn. And you...

pretty much just have no words and something inside of you, it just breaks. Not because mowing the lawn doesn't matter, but because it feels like you don't even live in the same world as this man. You don't need the lawn mowed. You need him in the emotional trenches with you. You need him to say, you know what, I've been thinking about our kid and I'm worried, I'm worried. What do you think we should do? You need him to say, I know you've been struggling. What can I do? You need him to ask, what are you most worried about right now? But instead,

He's offering you yard work and expecting you to be grateful. And when you don't respond with gratitude, when you can't muster up the energy to say thank you for something that doesn't touch what you're actually carrying, he gets defensive. I just mowed the lawn. What more do you want from me? I'm trying to help, but nothing's ever good enough for you. I can't read your mind. And that, that feels like a slap, not because he mowed the lawn, but because he genuinely thinks that's equivalent to what you are carrying.

He thinks his task completion equals partnership. He thinks visible work equals emotional support. He thinks picking up dinner once balances out the fact that you've been emotionally managing the entire household for months, maybe even years. And here's the painful truth. He's not trying to be cruel. He's not trying to minimize what you're going through. He genuinely doesn't see the difference. Because here's what he doesn't understand. You don't need more help. You need more attunement.

You need him to notice what you're carrying, not just what you ask him to do. You need him to see the invisible load, not just the visible tasks. You need him to genuinely care about what's weighing on you when he truly can't miss that you look like you've been run over by a freight train instead of assuming everything's fine because the lawn looks good. You need him to care about what you're worried about, not just complete items on a checklist, but he's not wired that way. He's not trained that way. He's been taught that partnership means

completing tasks, that helping means checking things off a list, that being a good husband means doing the visible work and assuming that's enough. And to be fair, that used to be enough. 10 years ago, when the load was mostly physical, his contributions mattered. When it was about who did the dishes and who took out the trash, task completion, it felt like partnership. But now, now the load is emotional, it's mental, it's invisible, and he's still offering you lawn care. And so when he says, what more do you want from me?

The answer is, I want you to see me. I want you to notice what I'm carrying. I want you to care about the weight I'm under, not just the tasks that need to be done. I want you to worry with me, think with me, carry this with me. I want you to notice what I'm drowning before I have to tell you. But you don't say that because you're too tired to explain it, because every time you try, he gets defensive, because you've learned that asking for help with the invisible stuff, it gets you nowhere. And so you just absorb it.

You add it to the pile of things you're carrying alone, and the resentment grows, and the gap widens. And he has no idea why you're so angry, because from where he's standing, he's doing everything right. He's being consistent. He's completing tasks. He's helping. But what he doesn't understand is she doesn't need a helper. She needs a partner. And there's a world of difference between the two. So let me tell you about a fantasy, really a fantasy that so many midlife women have. They fantasize about just falling apart.

about letting everything drop, about walking away from the calendar, the worry, the constant managing, and just not doing it for once, just to see what would happen. Would anyone notice? Would anyone step up? Would anyone even care? But here's why they don't do it, because they already know the answer. No one else would carry it. The worry would still be there, but no one would be managing it. The decisions would still need to be made, but no one would be making them. The emotional chaos would still be swirling.

but no one would be containing it. And so, she doesn't break down because if she does, everything falls apart and she can't let that happen. And so instead, she shuts down. She goes quiet, withdrawn, detached. She stops trying to explain what she's carrying. She stops asking for help. She stops hoping he'll notice. She just goes numb. And that's when things get really dangerous because when she shuts down, she gets sharp, snippy, cold. Not because she wants to be mean.

but because she's protecting the last little bit of herself that's left. She's building a wall because she can't keep being disappointed. She can't keep hoping he'll see her and being ignored. She can't keep carrying everything and getting no break from it, and so she disconnects. And then he calls her cold. He says things like, you've been so distant lately. You're not the woman I married. Why are you so angry all the time? And she wants to scream, I'm not angry. I'm exhausted.

I'm not cold, I'm drowning. And you have no idea because you're not even looking. But she doesn't say that because what's the point? He won't hear it, he won't get it. He just gets defensive and then he's gonna make it about how hard he's trying. And so she stays quiet and the distance grows. And he has no idea that the breakdown already happened. It just looked like her going quiet. That shutdown, that is the breakdown. That numbness, that detachment.

That's her system protecting her from completely falling apart. Because she can't afford to fall apart, no one else would hold it all together. And that's the cruelest part of all. She can't even break because no one else would carry the weight if she did. Here's what he doesn't understand. She's not bitter. She's not angry. She's not trying to be difficult. She's just exhausted from having to earn her right to be seen. Let me explain what I mean.

She's tried everything to get him to notice what she's carrying. She's tried hinting, dropping little comments like, I'm really worried about our kid. I'm so tired lately. I feel like I'm doing everything around here, but he doesn't pick up on the hints or he doesn't choose to hear the actual words that she's been directly saying. And so she tries to help him see. She explains calmly, rationally what she's carrying. She walks him through the mental load, the emotional labor, the invisible weight, and he nods. He says he understands. He promises to help out more. And then...

Nothing changes. So she tries directly asking, can you call the therapist and schedule the appointment? Can you talk to our kid about what happened at school? Can you take this off my plate? And he does, sometimes, maybe. But it's always with resistance. It's with size and it's with, I'll do it later or I'll get to it. And she ends up having to remind him, manage him, follow up, which means it's still on her plate. It's just now she's also managing his part of it too.

So she tries silence. She stops asking. She stops explaining. She stops trying. She just does it all herself. And he doesn't notice. He doesn't ask why she's so quiet. He doesn't wonder what changed. He doesn't get curious about what she might need. He just continues on like everything's fine. And that's when the resentment becomes unbearable. Because here's what she realizes. No matter what she does, hint, explain, ask, or stay silent, nothing changes. And he misinterprets her exasperation as anger.

He pulls away when she's loud and ignores her when she's quiet. He never gets curious. He never leans in. He never says, what's really going on? What are you dealing with that I'm not seeing? Instead, he waits for her to either A, get over it, or B, explode. And then he acts shocked when she finally loses it. Why didn't you just tell me? And she wants to scream, I did. I've been telling you for years. But by then, she's so exhausted from trying to be heard that she doesn't even have the energy to fight anymore.

She just gives up. And that's the real danger, not the anger, not the resentment, the resignation. The moment when she stops believing anything will ever change, when she stops hoping he'll finally see her, when she just accepts that this is just how it's going to be. And here's what she needs him to understand. She doesn't want gold stars for surviving. She wants partnership that actually lightens the load. She doesn't want praise for doing everything.

She wants him to notice what she's carrying before she has to spell it all out. She wants him to be as worried as she is about their kid. She wants him to anticipate needs, not just react to requests. She wants him to carry the emotional weight with her, not just help with tasks when she asks. She wants to feel like she's not alone in this because right now, she's never felt more alone.

So let's talk about the truth most women are afraid to say out loud. We're saying it here. It's the thing you've been thinking but haven't let yourself admit. If something doesn't change, I don't know how long I can keep doing this. It's not because you want to leave, not because you don't love him, not because you're giving up, but because you can't keep holding it all together and expect to feel whole. Something has to give. And right now, the thing that's giving is you, your health, your peace, your sense of self.

You're disappearing under the weight of it all and no one seems to notice. And so here's what needs to happen. You need to stop holding it all together. Not by having a breakdown, though that might happen too, but by being honest about what's unsustainable. By naming the invisible load. By saying things like, I can't keep doing this alone. Something has to change. And here's the hard part. You don't know if he'll hear it. You don't know if he'll finally get it or if he'll get defensive and make excuses. You don't know if this will be the conversation that changes everything or the one that breaks you.

But what you do know is this, you can't keep going like this. And you owe it to yourself and honestly to him too, to tell the truth. Not to punish him, not to blame him, but to give him the chance to finally understand what's been happening because here's what I've seen over and over again. Most men genuinely don't know. They don't know how much you're carrying. They don't know how close you are to breaking. They don't know that what they're doing isn't working. Not because they don't care, but because they're not paying attention. And when they finally do understand what's at stake, most of them try.

Not perfectly, not immediately, but they try. They start noticing. They start asking. They start showing up differently. And that's all you're asking for. Not perfection, not a complete transformation, just, I see it now. You've been caring so much, and I want to do this differently. That's it. That's the shift that you need to happen. And it starts with you finally saying the quiet part out loud. I need help, real help, not with tasks, with the weight. can't carry this alone anymore.

Here's what I know for sure. You've done an incredible job keeping it all together, but it's likely not sustainable until the end of time. You were not made to carry this alone. You were never supposed to be the only one managing, worrying, anticipating, and holding it all. That was never the deal. But somehow, that's what it became. And now, now it's time to redistribute the weight, not by burning it all down, not by giving up.

but by finally being honest about what's unsustainable and asking for it to be different. That starts with language, with being able to say, this is what I'm actually carrying. This is why I'm so exhausted. This is what needs to change. And that's exactly what the free guide, He Doesn't Get It Yet, is designed to help you do. It's going to help you name the invisible load that you've been carrying. It's going to help you understand why he hasn't noticed and why that's not entirely your fault or his fault.

It's going to help you find language that finally helps him see what's been right in front of him. And it's going to help you start a conversation that might actually lead to real partnership. You can grab it at midlifemarriagesfreeguide.com or in the show notes. And if this episode resonated, if you felt that ache of recognition, if you identified with the exhaustion of being the only one who carries it all, send it to your midlife bestie. You know the one. You need to send it to the one who says, I'm fine, but never really is.

She's carrying this too. She's just not said it out loud yet. In the next episode, we're going to be diving into this idea of, he says he's trying, but it's not what I need. And so we're going to unpack why his version of effort, it doesn't land, it doesn't help, and how to bridge the gap between what he thinks he's doing and what you actually need. Until then, friend, give yourself permission to stop holding it all together. You were never supposed to do this alone. And it's time to stop pretending.

that you can.