I once naively thought that being a parent was going to be the hardest job in the world. I pictured sleepless nights, endless tantrums, and me, slowly turning into a caffeine-fueled maniac with no more patience. But boy, was I wrong. I mean, parenting is no picnic (unless your idea of a picnic includes half-eaten sandwiches found under the couch). But no, the hardest job? Dealing with other adults. Yes, grown-up, fully developed, “I pay my taxes and everything” adults.
At least with kids, you can predict the chaos—they want more screen time, they want some money, and they want to watch “just one more episode” right before bedtime. With adults, it’s like stepping into the Thunderdome. Their ability to make simple tasks feel like quantum physics? It’s both impressive and terrifying. Who knew that organizing a fundraiser could involve more toxic black & white hyperpartisan politics than a presidential election?
This week, my soul has been crushed not by my kids but by the sheer weight of adulting. I’m exhausted. But you know what makes it worse? The cruel irony of how the idea of a “mental health day” only seems to hit when I have approximately 40,000 obligations that absolutely, under no circumstances, can be put off. It’s like the universe is playing a sick joke—”Take a mental health day! They’re all the rage now! Everyone will understand! Except here’s 12 deadlines and 14 meetings that say otherwise!”
And mental health days, let’s be honest, aren’t exactly something you can plan ahead for. Imagine trying to pencil in your emotional breakdown for next Thursday at 2 p.m. Sorry, but the crushing weight of existence doesn’t care about your Google Calendar. It just shows up uninvited, like the relative who always “forgets” to bring the potato salad to family gatherings.
I used to use weekends as my mental health days. Saturdays and Sundays were my sacred time to recharge, relax, and ignore the outside world. Used to. Now, weekends are just the days when I have to be exhausted completing tasks and running errands for the family instead of for work. But hey, I still technically use them as mental health days. I’m just mentally unhealthy while I do it.
So here’s to all of us just trying to survive the week while pretending that we have it all together. Maybe one day we’ll figure out how to schedule those elusive mental health days. Or people will come to me with their stupid bullshit at a better time. But until then, I guess we’ll just keep running on caffeine, sarcasm, and sheer stubborn willpower.
