Overwhelmed and Overworked: Managing Life, Caregiving, and Teen Stress

Some days feel impossible. Like there are 48 hours’ worth of responsibilities shoved into 24, and only one of me to try to manage them all. Today was one of those days—the kind where I wanted to give myself five quiet minutes, but even those didn’t exist.

It started with the ongoing mess of trying to get my niece’s prescriptions transferred to a new pharmacy. That should be a straightforward process, but of course it wasn’t. Phone calls, hold music, miscommunications—it ate up time and energy I didn’t have to spare. Then came her assistance application, which was denied because the documents weren’t “just right.” Another hurdle. Another reminder of how broken these systems are. None of this is her fault, and yet somehow it all lands on me to untangle.

I thought maybe I could steal a tiny moment for myself—five minutes to paint my nails, nothing big. But before the polish was even dry, the cats were getting into trouble, knocking things over, and I had to jump up and deal with them. That five-minute break disappeared like everything else.

By the time I looked at my niece, I was already worn thin. I’ve told her how much I have on my plate before—two graduate classes, an internship, my regular job, running the house, making sure we have food and stability, making sure she has what she needs to feel safe, and packing for a 5 day 40th birthday trip. I’ve told her I need help. But instead of helping, she disappears into gaming. And while I know she doesn’t understand the weight of everything I’m carrying, in that moment, I felt angry. I handled it poorly.

What I’ve learned, though, is that with teenagers—especially traumatized ones—how you handle the aftermath matters. I can’t undo the frustration that spilled out of me, but I can sit down with her, admit that I didn’t handle it well, and explain why I was so upset. Not to guilt her, but to help her understand without internalizing it. I know she wasn’t taught how to navigate life. I know living with me won’t be easy, because I’m balancing survival on a very thin wire. But I can still put on the parenting hat, even if it doesn’t fit perfectly.

The truth is, I’m exhausted. I’ve been running around like a madman, making sure her needs are met, keeping us housed, making sure bills are paid, managing school and work and dinner and everything else life throws at us. And yet, despite all the chaos, what matters most is that she doesn’t walk away from this believing she’s the problem. Because she’s not.

The systems are broken. Time is scarce. Stress is high. But she deserves to feel seen and supported, even when I’m stretched too thin to show it perfectly.

So tonight, I’ll go talk to her. I’ll tell her I messed up. I’ll tell her I was overwhelmed. And I’ll tell her why. Because she deserves honesty, she deserves care, and she deserves to know that even when I don’t handle things well, my love for her doesn’t change.

Some days feel like they demand 48 hours. But at the end of them, I’m reminded: it’s not about doing it perfectly. It’s about showing up, again and again, even when I’m tired, even when I stumble, even when I’m human.

Even when I am overwhelmed and overworked, I will keep showing up — not perfectly, but fully — parenting her the way we both deserved, doing my best.