Stop Flying Everyone Else’s Plane First
Stop Flying Everyone Else’s Plane First
August hits different when you’re sending a kid off to college.
The house gets quieter. Conversations become less frequent. The family dynamic shifts permanently, and research shows it can take 18 to 24 months to navigate this transition successfully.
My oldest completed her degree this past May, my middle child is a sophomore at Michigan State, and my youngest is a senior in high school this year. Next August, we will be empty nesters, so I can relate to how this feels.
This transition isn’t just about missing your children—it’s about confronting how you’ve been living.
Over the years, I’ve learned that major life transitions like this don’t just happen to families—they reveal the cracks in how we have been managing our lives. When the house suddenly gets quieter and your primary organizing focal point (caring for everyone else) shifts, you’re forced to face an uncomfortable truth.
For most women, those cracks center around one critical issue: we’ve become experts at managing everyone else’s wellness while completely neglecting our own.
Why Seasons Matter for Self-Care
Here’s what I’ve learned from decades of clinical practice and being a mother for over twenty-four years: self-care neglect follows predictable patterns. Those patterns are often tied to seasons and life’s transitions.
September brings the back-to-school chaos. October layers on seasonal depression and the creeping stress of holiday prep. November amplifies family dynamics. December plays the perfectionist—curated gifts, curated tables. January shows up with green juice and a hangover.
Each season carries its own emotional and logistical load. Instead of pretending these patterns don’t exist, what if we named them, normalized them, and created intervention strategies before women hit crisis mode?
Why This Is Not About Individual Willpower
This is not about women being dramatic or weak, nor is it about starting a gender war or assigning blame. In my opinion, this is a public health crisis masquerading as individual choice. We have normalized the erasure of women’s wellness in the service of everyone else’s needs.
This epidemic is hiding in plain sight because we have been conditioned to see exhausted, overwhelmed women as “just how things are” instead of recognizing it as the systematic breakdown it is.
Harvard has a name for this invisible load.
Harvard sociologist Allison Daminger’s research in the American Sociological Review has a name for this that really resonates: “cognitive labor.” She describes it as the mental work of anticipating needs, planning ahead, and keeping track of everything. It is exhausting because it never stops, and it is often unrecognized because it happens in your head.
Again, I want to foot-stomp that I am not sharing these statistics (or writing this blog for that matter) to diminish anyone’s contributions or create division. That said, research from Pew shows that even in dual-career households, women handle 65% of household tasks and 71% of child-related responsibilities. The Bureau of Labor Statistics confirms that women spend 37% more time on household activities than men, even when both partners work full-time.
A 2024 study in Archives of Women’s Mental Health provides even more striking evidence of this issue. When researchers separated the invisible mental work from physical execution, they found women carry 73% of cognitive labor—the planning, anticipating, and delegating that happens in your head—while handling 64% of the physical tasks as well.
These patterns often develop organically—someone has to coordinate, and historically, that someone has been mom. But the cumulative effect creates an invisible load that is exhausting to carry.
The Real-World Casualties
Every day, I see the casualties of this epidemic:
- Women having heart attacks in their forties
- Mothers falling asleep behind the wheel from exhaustion
- Women developing autoimmune conditions from chronic stress
- Mothers missing their own medical appointments while managing everyone else’s health
Consider Iris, a 42-year-old teacher and single mother. Between her full-time job, her 8-year-old’s soccer schedule, and caring for her diabetic father, she realized she had not visited a doctor in over two years. “I schedule everyone else’s appointments,” she told me, “but somehow never get around to my own.”
When you are constantly focused on keeping everyone else’s plane in the air, you miss the little things. You cannot stop and smell the roses because your mind is already three tasks ahead, managing logistics and preventing crashes.
You become unavailable to the very people you are trying so hard to care for. Irritability replaces patience. Exhaustion masks joy. Depression creeps in where connection used to live.
When Self-Care Neglect Reaches the Tipping Point
When self-care neglect reaches a tipping point, you may need urgent medical attention or continuous medical care for chronic illnesses that might have been avoided or started later in life if we prioritized ourselves. Once you have had a heart attack, fallen asleep behind the wheel and had a major accident, or developed chronic conditions from years of stress, that is crisis territory.
But here’s what I have learned in my decades of clinical practice: even then, there is always room for improvement. Always.
The question that stops women in their tracks is simple: “If I took one thing off your plate right now, what could you breathe easier about?”
The pause that follows tells me everything.
There’s always something. Always. Maybe it’s admitting they don’t have to make homemade costumes for the school play. Maybe it’s asking for help with the carpool routine. Maybe it’s recognizing that takeout pizza twice a week during a really busy part of a season won’t ruin their children’s health.
The revelation isn’t what they could remove. The reason is that they don’t need permission to remove it.
The Path Forward
Recognizing self-care neglect as an epidemic—not an individual failing—is the first step toward addressing it. This is not about perfect self-care routines or expensive wellness retreats. It is about basic maintenance of the human operating everyone else’s system.
The beautiful thing about recognizing patterns is that you can interrupt them. You can choose differently. You can catch yourself in these moments and ask, “What would it look like to take care of myself right now?”
Maybe it is finally admitting that taking care of yourself isn’t selfish. It is strategic. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and sustainable self-care isn’t built in a weekend retreat.
If you used to feel energized after exercise, don’t sign up for a triathlon. Commit to walking 20 minutes three times next week. When you accomplish that goal, celebrate it. Then do it again.
Baby steps become little wins. Little wins become bigger successes.
Your plane matters too.
Sometimes, putting on your own oxygen mask means getting the help you need to feel confident in your own skin again. Whether it is finally scheduling that doctor’s appointment, saying no to one more volunteer commitment, or investing in treatments that help you feel like yourself again—these aren’t luxuries. When you’re running on fumes for months or years, stress leaves its mark. The exhaustion shows in your face, your posture, and your energy. Taking care of how you look and feel isn’t vanity. It’s the maintenance of the person everyone depends on.
Common Questions About Self-Care Neglect
What are the warning signs that I am neglecting myself?
Chronic exhaustion, irritability, missing your own medical appointments, feeling overwhelmed by daily tasks, trouble sleeping, and consistently putting everyone else’s needs before your own.
How does this affect my ability to care for my family?
Self-care neglect can lead to depression, anxiety, and physical health problems. It also impacts your ability to be present and patient with the people you love most.
What exactly is cognitive labor?
It is the mental work of anticipating needs, planning ahead, and keeping track of family logistics. Research shows women carry 73% of this invisible mental load.
Where do I even start when I feel overwhelmed?
Start small: identify one thing you can remove from your plate, ask for help with something specific, and prioritize basic needs like adequate sleep and regular meals. Remember, a plane can’t fly with one wing.
Your Two-Week Challenge
Here’s your assignment for the next two weeks: Pick ONE thing from your overwhelming to-do list and either delegate it, delete it, or delay it until after the holidays.
Maybe it’s saying no to that extra committee. Maybe it’s ordering pizza instead of cooking from scratch twice this week. Maybe it’s asking your teenager to do their own laundry.
Whatever you choose, celebrate that small win.
I want to hear about it. Share your one thing in the chat widget on our website or drop it in the comments if you’re reading this from social media. Let’s celebrate these small wins together. Remember: sustainable self-care isn’t built in a weekend retreat. It’s built one conscious choice at a time. Baby steps become little wins. Little wins become bigger successes.
Your plane matters too. And you’re the only one who can decide to ensure it has a full tank of gas even before you put on your own oxygen mask first.
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