I was speaking at a conference recently (read: wearing real pants, talking to adults, feeling very important for about 47 minutes), and during lunch, a woman came up to me and said, “I told my husband I have decision fatigue.” I wanted to hug her, buy her a coffee, and sit on the floor together in silence. Because YES. That. Exactly that.
It’s not the big decisions that are taking us down. We can handle big stuff. Jobs, houses, kids, marriages, life-altering choices, we’ve got that. The problem is the nonstop, tiny, annoying decisions that start the second we wake up and don’t end until we collapse into bed, when we remember we forgot to put the laundry in the dryer. Again.
By 8 a.m., I’ve already decided what everyone is wearing, what everyone is eating, whether today is a “real lunch” day or a “handful of snacks thrown in a lunch box” day, and if that email needs a thoughtful response or a quick “Sounds good!” with fingers crossed.
None of these are hard decisions. They’re just constant. And they pile up until my brain feels like it has 47 tabs open, with one of them playing music, but I can’t figure out which one. Can you relate?
This is usually when resentment shows up wearing sweatpants. Not because I hate my husband or my kids or my life, but because I am the one keeping all the balls in the air. I’m the one who remembers, anticipates, plans, and decides.
So when someone asks me, “What do you want for dinner?” it’s not about dinner. It’s about the fact that I’ve already made 300 decisions today, and I simply cannot be trusted with one more.
And no, “just ask for help” doesn’t magically fix this. Asking is still a decision. Explaining is a decision. Following up is definitely a decision. I don’t get relief; I just added another task to my mental list.
What actually helps is deciding less—fewer daily choices. Clear ownership. Systems that mean I’m not the household manager, CEO, and emotional support human all rolled into one. Real rest isn’t just a nap or a bath (though I will gladly partake in those). It’s when my brain finally gets to clock out.
