The Quiet Kind of Overwhelm No One Talks About

When you hit the perimenopause years, there’s a kind of overwhelm that doesn’t look dramatic from the outside — it’s quiet.
You’re not necessarily melting down. You’re not crying on the sofa (not always, anyway).
You’re just… spinning ten invisible plates while trying to appear to everyone else as though your hands are free.

It’s a quiet overwhelm, at least in the beginning — the kind that seeps into the gaps between your already huge responsibilities. It hides in the pause between one task and the next.
There’s a subtle whisper to this kind of overwhelm. It doesn’t scream at first, it just sits there, gently talking like a strange devil on your shoulder.

I’m infuriated that we don’t talk about this version of overwhelm. I believe it’s because we’ve never been taught how to actually function through it. We’ve been led to believe it’s “normal”, that every woman goes through it, and we all say the same two words: “It’s fine.”
We’re told to keep going because “everyone’s going through it,” and it’s so deeply rooted in us that stopping feels like letting our family down — or letting ourselves down.

But this quiet overwhelm is dangerous. You can be suffering for weeks, months, even years before anyone notices that you’re barely functioning. You’re on autopilot, just scratching to make it through the day.
“Running on fumes” doesn’t even cover it. Existing — just existing — is more accurate.

A woman sitting quietly with a cup of tea, reflecting on her day — symbolising the quiet overwhelm of midlife

The Early Signs We Overlook

There are so many signs we miss because we’re out of tune with our own rhythm and bodies. I know, because I overlooked them for a long time. Hindsight is 20/20, right?

• Feeling tired even after a full night’s sleep

• Craving silence and solitude more than anything else

• Avoiding decisions because your brain feels “full”

• Getting overly emotional at tiny things — snappy or tearful

• Feeling like life is happening to you, not like you are living

It wasn’t until I stopped and looked at where I was, what I was doing, and how my life was panning out that I started to piece it together.

I’ve always had thyroid disease (hypothyroidism), so tiredness isn’t new to me. But this was different — an all-encompassing exhaustion that seeped into every cell. I’d nap daily just to keep my eyes open, but if I napped, I couldn’t sleep at night. If I didn’t nap, I was grumpy and lethargic until bedtime, then too overtired to rest.

I tried every sleep hygiene tip and trick out there. Some helped, some didn’t. The point is, this was one of many signs I ignored. Piecing the puzzle together has been hard because no one talks about this stuff as we get older.

It’s curious, isn’t it? We talk endlessly about reproductive health up to having babies, then nothing else.
But these changes are signals. Your body is waving a little white flag, asking you to slow down and pay attention.

Why Midlife Makes This Harder

During the perimenopause years, overwhelm becomes more layered. Yay for us — more layers than an onion!

The practical layer:
Work life, home life, domestic duties, kids growing up (and their own hormone surges), ageing parents, shifting health — it’s a lot.

The emotional layer:
Your parental role changes, relationships evolve, and there’s a quiet grief for the woman you used to be.

The hormonal layer:
An unexpected storm raging within you, unpredictable and relentless.

I’ve seen this story play out with so many clients. The details differ, but the essence is the same: tired, unseen, carrying the mental load, and quietly falling apart. Their kids are older, which is both a blessing and a curse. They want to rediscover themselves but don’t know where to start. There’s sadness in their eyes and a hole in their heart, and no one seems to notice.

When all these layers collide, even the simplest things feel complicated.

Soft morning light over an open journal and pen, representing self-reflection and gentle change

The Myth of “Pushing Through”

In midlife, we’ve become experts at coping.
Pushing through is how we got here, so we keep doing it. We’re the ones who keep everything functioning.

But at what cost?
Disconnection from our own needs.

That disconnection is what fuels your overwhelm.
Overwhelm isn’t just too many things to do — it’s too little you.

The Gentle Way Back to Yourself

Here’s the truth: the way out of overwhelm isn’t a big life overhaul. It’s not about doing all the things the wellness gurus tell you to do.

It starts with one tiny 1% shift — something that brings the smallest sense of relief.
A pause.
A breath.
A moment of truth-telling: “I’m carrying too much.”

This is where the Flow Forward philosophy begins:
tiny shifts → big difference → back to you.

I busied myself for so long trying to do everything that eventually I couldn’t do anything. Then I discovered micro rituals — those tiny shifts that make a big difference.

For me, movement has always been my anchor. But I had to redefine what that looked like. Forget the “four workouts a week or it’s pointless” nonsense. I started with 15 minutes once or twice a week — gentle yoga, resistance bands, a short walk.

And it helped. Not just my body, but my mind.
Some movement is better than none. I’m not who I used to be, and that’s okay. I’m being true to the me I am today — the one who needs calm, gentle shifts, and a good night’s sleep.

Small shift, massive gain.

A peaceful walk through nature, capturing the idea of small, mindful shifts and the Flow Forward philosophy

Your Invitation Today

If you’re feeling the weight of quiet (or not-so-quiet) overwhelm, please know this: you don’t need to fix your entire life.

Just choose one 1% shift today.
Something small enough to stick.
Something kind and gentle.

And if you’d like a gentle structure to follow, my Flow Forward Starter Guide gives you your first step. You can also join the waitlist for the Overwhelm Relief Kit, which helps you uncover where your overwhelm is coming from and what your body is asking for.

Overwhelm isn’t a personal failure.
It’s a signal.
And you deserve support that feels soft, doable, and human.

Take care

Until next time

Amber x