I Think I Am Still Functioning Only Because I Haven’t Been Allowed to Stop

Dear Delyara, People tell me, “You’re so strong,” and what I want to say back is: no, I’m just still needed. The lunches still need to be made. The bills still need to be paid. The work still has to be done. The children still need mothering. The house still needs holding together. The messages still need answering. The appointments still need remembering. So yes, I continue. But continuing is not the same as being well. Inside, I feel flatter than I used to. Ordinary things now cost more. Noise gets under my skin faster. My patience takes longer to arrive. I feel like I’m doing my life instead of fully living it. And some days I can feel how close I am to tears over things that are not really about the thing itself — a spoon in the sink, a late text, the wrong tone, an overripe banana, one more “Mum” at 7 p.m. That is not just tiredness. That is depletion. What scares me is how respectable burnout looks when the woman inside it is competent. If I collapsed, maybe someone would call it a problem. But because I still function, I think even the people around me assume I’m basically fine. Some days I assume that too, because the alternative sounds too serious and I don’t know what would happen if I admitted it properly. But I don’t feel fine. I feel used. And I don’t know how much longer a person can live like this without something important in them going quiet for good.