The Freeze, The Fire, and The Damn Feast: Why Women Burn Out in November

Buckle up. Here it comes. The November spiral of the holiday season.

We are knee-deep in it.

It’s the month when the matriarchal spine might just crumble, and the silent mountain we carry becomes heavy enough to see from space. It’s the prelude to the whole fucking holiday season, where the expectation is a crescendo of cheer and perfection.

This is the season where the world expects us to magically transform into a well-rested, perfectly budgeted, emotionally available goddamn Pinterest Board of a human. We are expected to produce joy, not feel it. We are expected to coordinate harmony, not necessarily live it.

And for the middle-aged among us, we do it while we’re bleeding, raging, and losing thoughts mid-sentence, quietly wondering if we’re losing our minds.

This is the pressure cooker before the feast — when we’re already exhausted from doing the emotional heavy lifting just to get to the starting line.

The True Architecture of the Invisible Load

Listen, the grocery list is the least of it.

The Invisible Load isn’t just logistics. It isn’t the dozens of checklists. It isn’t the meal plan. Those are the visible symptoms of a deep, systemic infection. The real weight is the emotional architecture we build and maintain for everyone else’s comfort.

It’s the anticipation. It’s the way you’ve run the entire week’s schedule in your head before your feet hit the floor. It’s the silent management of the household economy — not just the spending, but knowing the expiration date of every item in the fridge and the dwindling supply of clean socks in the drawer.

And it goes darker than that.

• It’s the storykeeping. Remembering which family member is estranged, who’s secretly drinking, who is grieving a loss too recent to name, and who needs a “safe” topic of conversation so they don’t spiral.
• It’s the silent recalibration of your own boundaries so no one else has to feel uncomfortable. You shrink so they can expand.
• It’s holding space for your partner’s end-of-year work stress, your kid’s meltdown, your aunt’s passive-aggressive critique, and your friends’ loneliness — while your own needs sit at the bottom of the list.
  

And here’s the kicker: the weight of this load often becomes too much right when we hit midlife. Layer the burden on top of hormonal chaos and it’s no wonder so many of us “snap.” The freeze. The fire. The forgetting. The sudden rage that makes you think you need an exorcism. The perimenopausal blood that betrays you in public. The truths no one warned you about.
And still, you show up. You host. You coordinate. You smile the tight smile that says, “Yes, I have everything under control, please enjoy your life.”
We were taught that this is strength. I’m here to tell you: this is survival. And survival without rest is just erosion of the self.

The Myth of Balance: Why the Juggling Breaks Us

The wellness machine loves to peddle the myth of balance — as if you can juggle two flaming chainsaws, a gaggle of teens and all their angst, and a demanding career and somehow breathe your way to equilibrium.

I reject that platitude.

There is no balance when the fundamental weight distribution is broken. You are not failing because you can’t balance it all; you are failing because you are the only one expected to do the balancing.

The cost of this invisible load is not just exhaustion. It’s a toxic concoction of:

• Identity Erosion: Your needs go last for so long you forget what they are. You become a vessel for everyone else’s needs. Your desires feel like burdens or dangerous indulgences.
• Resentment: The cold, bitter fuel that forms when no one actually sees what you’re holding — they just enjoy that it’s being held. Resentment is the internal voice screaming, “I am being taken advantage of.”
• The Silence: The world tells you, “This is just how it is. Shut up. Smile. Be grateful.” The silence ensures you never discover that thousands (maybe millions?) are screaming internally too.

And I’m asking you: what if you’re just done dealing with it?

The Radical Act of Putting the Load Down

I know exactly what it feels like to be done dealing with it. I lived in that trench for 25 years. I did the lion’s share and then some. The managing, the hosting, the smiling through it. Not just during the holidays, I was the one who kept everything going. I held and perpetuated the flawed belief that that a long marriage meant success, and ending it meant failure. I’ve learned a lot since those days.

And after 25 years, I looked at the mountain and made a choice. I put it down.

For years, I lived with a man who did not respect me and often felt like he didn’t even like me. He needed me, but he did not love me in the way I needed and deserved to be loved. The resentment built until the inevitable happened and I was simply done.

That was many years ago. Today I have a completely new life with a ridiculously magnificent human — the polar opposite of my first husband. He easily takes 80% of the load, and I will never take that for granted.

If you want to know more about how I got here, read my 5-part foundational series: From Unravelling to Weaving: My Journey to Recollections Within

I am in the minority. The vast minority. Many of you do not have a partner waiting to grab the baton. The truth remains: the system relies on you believing you have no choice. It feeds on your guilt, your history, and the belief that your love is measured by your sacrifice.

Your challenge now is to decide that you can choose. That choice might mean stepping away from the whole toxic mess, simplifying everything, or shrinking your circle to the people who actually see you. This applies to the holiday season — and your whole damn life.

It’s your life.

Stop Spending, Start Speaking

The pressure this season isn’t just emotional — it’s financial. The guilt. The obligation. The fear of disappointing people we love or proving we’re “not enough.”

We’re expected to make magic with shrinking budgets, rising costs, and a world that feels increasingly unstable. We’re pressured to prove our worth through gifts, feasts, and decorations. Social media makes it exponentially worse.

You can stop it.

The most radical act you can commit this season is simply not buying into it. It is the terrifying act of speaking your need.

It is looking the people you love — the ones you fiercely protect — in the eye and saying, with grounded honesty:

• “I cannot do that.”
• I need help. Specifically, I need you to do X and Y.”
• “This year we’re settling for a small, intimate, just-us gathering. The expectation is off the table.”
• “My capacity is zero right now. I need an hour alone. Do not knock.”

I know this works because I do it. We keep it small. We keep it intimate. We focus on sanity and genuine meaning.

Your worth is not measured in your sacrifice. Your love is not measured in your exhaustion. The only thing you’re obligated to carry is your own soul. The matriarch who refuses to be depleted is the ultimate protector.

The Season of Reclaiming: Honour The Load, Then Lay it Down

This season can become something else entirely.

It can be a season of remembering — not the tree, decorations, or feast — but remembering who you are beneath the demands.

Honour the matriarchs who came before us. The ones who carried too much. The ones who never got to rest. The ones who taught us how to survive but not how to speak up. They did the best they could. Now we owe it to ourselves to do better.

We break the silence now.

This is your time to claim space. To stop shrinking. To stop smoothing things over. To start speaking the truth of your experience.

If you’re feeling the weight — emotional, financial, hormonal — hear me clearly: you are not alone in this brutal, messy reality.

We are building a safe, quiet haven where genuine connection isn’t overshadowed by judgment. Recollections Within was born from the longing for a place where our stories, however complex, can simply be—witnessed, honoured, understood.

Begin Here: Find Your Thread

You need a community. You need your stories to fit somewhere.

We are actively building the safe space where the messy, unfiltered stories are cherished. That space is called Recollections Within.

If you’re craving a place where you don’t have to perform or pretend, start as a Seeker — it’s free, quiet, and judgment-free.
Get your feet under you. Feel the space. See if it feels like home.

And when you’re ready for deeper conversations, real connection, and the kind of support you don’t get on social media, you can step into the deeper tiers: Weaver, Keeper, or Guide and take your place in the circle of women doing this work together.

The point is this: You do not have to walk through this fire alone.

💚 PS: I have a present for you! My free journaling guide is waiting for you at the link below. It’s a grounded tool to help you begin setting down what you carry, what you remember, and what you’re finally ready to release. It’s the first breath before you make the radical choice.

Go on. The link below connects you to everything—the free guide, the free Seeker and paid Weaver, Keeper and Guide membership options, and the full map of Recollections Within. Come enjoy the site!

🪶 recollectionswithin.com/our-links-connect