By: Tesa Emmart, LCPC, LMHC, SEP, PMH-C

Do you remember that viral reel trend from a year or so ago, the Mortal Kombat-style one where people were bracing for whatever was coming next?

That’s what May feels like to me.

Especially now, as a mom with a little one in school. I feel like I’m constantly bobbing back and forth between responsibilities, expectations, and dare I even say wants this month brings.

As a woman who has a mom
as a mom who has a daughter
and as a mom who has needs herself

There is a lot to consider.

Mother’s Day alone brings its own spiral:
How do I want to spend it?
Do I want to do nothing? Can I do nothing?
What about my own mom? My step-mom? My grandmother? My mother-in-law?

And then there are those of us who move through this day carrying grief.
Losses.
The dreams we had.
The ones that didn’t happen.
The ones that are still unfolding.

And then there’s the mothering part of May.

I swear I am not making this up. My daughter, who is in kindergarten, got sent home an alphabet calendar for the last 26 days of school. There is something every single day. Every day.

Plus Muffins with Moms, kindergarten graduation, field day, the last day of school.

Good Lord. This is a lot.

And, me being me, I decided to plan a family vacation that starts at the end of this month. I’m pregnant, and I want to mark this moment. The last trip as a family of three before we become four.

So yes, I am also a contributor to the chaos.

All of this to say

this month isn’t just busy

it’s layered

Logistics
Mother’s Day
the emotional weight that comes with it

And it’s not as if the rest of life pauses. Life still lives.

I keep getting this image of spinning plates.
How many more can you add before they all come crashing down?

That’s the feeling of May.

I recently heard someone call it “Maycember,” because it carries the same intensity as the holidays. And honestly, that tracks.

Because the load isn’t just what’s on the calendar.

It’s the remembering
the tracking
the holding of everyone’s needs

all while picking out a card for your mother-in-law and signing the field day permission slip

And when the load stays this high without enough space in between

your nervous system doesn’t just push through

it narrows

(Therapists call this your window of tolerance. The bandwidth you have for stress before things start to feel sharp.)

You feel urgency where there isn’t actually a fire
You snap at someone who didn’t deserve it
You shut down halfway through the to-do list
You wake up already behind

That’s not you being disorganized

That’s not you being bad at time management

That’s what happens when the ask is bigger than your capacity

and capacity isn’t infinite

try as we might

So many of us move through May overriding ourselves

showing up to everything
making every moment meaningful
pushing through exhaustion
ignoring the signal

telling ourselves
it’s just a few more weeks

But the cost builds

Because May doesn’t just ask for your time

it asks for your attention
your presence
your steady self

And when those run out
the people you’re trying to show up for
get the version of you that’s barely there

So the question I keep coming back to this year is:

what can I actually hold

Not on my best day
Not the most organized version of me
Not the one who got eight hours of sleep and remembered the alphabet calendar three days in advance

The one who is pregnant
packing for a trip
and trying to figure out which mother gets which card

That’s the version of me making the list

What fits
What doesn’t
What gets simplified
skipped
or done differently this year

This isn’t about lowering the bar

It’s about working with the body and bandwidth you actually have

and not abandoning yourself somewhere in the process

So if your May feels anything like mine

here’s the quiet permission

you don’t have to win the May Olympics

you just have to make it to June

with yourself still intact