Uncovering the invisible mental load

The “mental load” has been getting a lot of airtime in some circles recently. What is it exactly?

Here’s one definition from a psychologist that came via a friend:

“The mental load is the invisible, ongoing physical, cognitive, emotional energy and effort required to manage daily life, a household and a career. And it goes beyond the physical completion of tasks because it includes the ongoing mental checking of remembering, anticipating, planning, organising so many parts of life, like groceries, bills, appointments, childcare. And it can often involve emotional work of monitoring and maintaining relationships as well as managing emotional states of your nearest and dearest. That seems to create sometimes the biggest load – the constant checking of, is everyone around me okay?

The mental load is traditionally framed in reference to mothers. But I would actually expand the definition. For example, when people move out of home, they might move in with flatmates, and there’s the question of who does what? What if they don’t take out the garbage or share their load of caring for the apartment? Another example is when the first baby enters a family. This can be a big transition for couples. And so the question is, how does this load get managed between the parents? And then there’s the other example of elderly parents. How do adult siblings navigate, who does what, when and how?” – Larissa, psychologist

The past 3 months for me have been particularly challenging. When asked, I will usually respond with we are just about coping, or that I’m still alive. It is hard to admit to anyone, even myself that I am finding it nearly impossible to physically staying awake long enough to:

• Work
• Manage my children’s school and daycare needs
• Maintain the house
• Keep my social battery charged
• Show up for agreed commitments
• Show up for extracurriculars at work that I cared about

In fact I’ve had to make some difficult choices as my capacity reached overload levels.

Four things have been helpful as I navigate this mental load:

1. Moving some tasks from manual to automatic

For me, clarity of values and priorities is the most important element of managing mental load. This is because once I am clear on what is most important, the mental load of worrying about whether I am doing enough or doing the right thing is removed entirely.

For instance, in order to serve my family well emotionally and spiritually, the house has to function. This means that while the living room does not need to be perfectly tidy every single day, the daily grind of things like laundry and packing children’s lunches are not negotiable. I find when things are put on the list of “cannot be dropped” they contribute less to my mental load because they happen automatically.

2. Adopting a minimum standard of care

Practically, I personally find the concept of “minimum standard of care” really helpful with managing my own mental load. Taken from Eve Rodsky’s book Fair Play and being similar in concept to workplace project delivery agile concept known as “Definition of Done” (I work as a Project Manager!), the minimum standard of care (MSC) is an agreed acceptable finish line for routine activities.

This can help reduce the worry (“What if my son is annoyed and hungry because lunch wasn’t what he wanted??”) and the blame (“If only he had packed the dishwasher the way I wanted…”). This is because it helps to shrink the misalignment between expectations and reality. It is about figuring out and agreeing (within each household) what “finished” looks like for a specific task and that no further explanations are needed or taking up valuable mental space.

If I ask my kindergartener to get dressed for school, he knows that he has to find a shirt, pants, jumper, socks and shoes. This means just saying “time to get dressed” is enough, and I don’t need to spend more effort mentally thinking about whether what he is putting on will be appropriate.

3. From Compulsion to Conviction

Once the MSC has a baseline, it is easier to work out how much extra “capacity” is available for the next most important things. This is where things that are non-urgent but still important have a place. Things like spending energy planning the next team event taking into consideration logistics, preferences of those attending, and helping the new person not feel excluded.

I can set aside specific capacity to do these things with conviction rather than compulsion because prioritising things consciously means I do not have FOMO (fear of missing out) for the things that were not able to be accomplished.

4. Following a person not a plan

A friend reminded me of this recently – followers of Jesus follow a person and not a plan.

I find this such a good reminder because I’m big on planning (as I mentioned previously, I work as a Project Manager!). This means so much of how I approach life is driven by my desire to be seen as in control and competent. The pressure I put on myself is adding to my own mental load.

Jesus says: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” [Matthew 11:28-30]

I can come to Jesus and ask him to carry my burdens. He will be good to me.

It doesn’t mean I throw all planning out the window. I still plan, but try to hold my plans a bit more lightly, leaning into Jesus the burden carrier. When I can do that, I find I am less anxious and more adaptable.

Reflection questions

1. Where are you feeling the mental load at the moment?
2. What helps to fuel your mental load?
3. What could you change in terms of your approach to the mental load?
4. What will help make a difference?

Article supplied with thanks to Third Space.

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What does it look like and is it necessarily a bad thing?

I (Bec) was catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in ages, plenty of texting, but no proper girl catch-up for far too long. We finally managed to align trains and used the commute home to actually talk. And almost immediately, something became obvious: we were both just… hanging in there at work.

As we compared notes on our frustrations, we realised we were tired of always being the ones who picked up the extra work, stayed the extra hours, cared about the timelines, the outcomes, the details. Somewhere along the way, without even noticing, we’d both started pulling back. Not slacking off- just quietly stepping away from the “above and beyond” that had become expected rather than appreciated.

It wasn’t lost on us that our extra effort rarely led to recognition or reward. Meanwhile, others doing far less were being paid more or praised more. So why were we still pushing so hard?

At first, I assumed it was burnout, that familiar desire to do less because you’re running on fumes. But then the term quiet quitting started popping up in my LinkedIn feed and social media ads (proof the devices really are always listening). For once, I was grateful for the algorithm. A quick search turned up article after article describing exactly what we were feeling.

Quiet Quitting

Quiet quitting isn’t about quitting at all. It’s about doing what’s required, and not automatically doing more. It’s setting boundaries for self-preservation. It’s recognising that you don’t have to be everything to everyone, all the time.

I felt relieved. I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t a “me problem.” It was a much wider shift, and one that deserves the attention of business leaders.

Workloads haven’t just increased, they’ve crept up quietly, almost invisibly. Entire project teams have disappeared, but the projects themselves haven’t. They’ve simply been absorbed into what’s now considered the “normal” workload… the same workload that was already overflowing. Companies are downsizing, restructuring, or leaning on offshore teams and half-baked tech solutions. The work still needs doing, but the support, context, or capability isn’t always there. And the expectations? Still sky high.

So who fills the gaps? Usually the people who care the most.

Yes, I’ll take on that extra project. Yes, I’ll do the presentation. Yes, I’ll grab the groceries on the way home. Yes, I’ll help with the fundraiser. The list goes on. We say yes because we don’t want to let the team down, because we want to be seen as capable, because we want to learn quickly and be self-sufficient.

But is that always the best approach?

By saying yes to everything, am I blocking someone else from learning? Am I creating an expectation that I’ll always be the one to step in? Am I making myself the default solution simply because I’ve always been willing?

When you’re constantly asked to do more with less, your willingness to go above and beyond naturally fades. Not because you’re uncommitted, but because you’re exhausted. And that’s where quiet quitting becomes a boundary. A gentle but firm declaration: I’ll show up. I’ll do my job well. But I won’t sacrifice my wellbeing to compensate for structural issues I didn’t create.

It’s not laziness. It’s not disengagement. It’s a recalibration, a recognition that loyalty is a two-way street, and that constantly over-delivering in an under-resourced environment isn’t sustainable for anyone.

Quiet quitting is the moment you choose yourself, your energy, your time, your sanity. And honestly, that’s not quitting. That’s self‑preservation. That’s clarity. That’s quietly, but firmly, drawing the line.

Is it as simple as saying, That’s it, I’m done, I’m choosing me? Not in my experience. Some days I stand strong and don’t automatically say yes. Other days, choosing myself leaves me wrecked with guilt and self‑doubt. And then there are the days where I feel completely at peace with my decision.

What I have found, though, is that the more I practice, whether it’s biting my tongue, saying no, or sitting on an email or text before responding, the easier it becomes to shift the dial and stop slipping back into old habits.

I (Caro) have loved reading what Bec has written. I have to admit I’ve been quietly “quiet quitting” for years now, I just hadn’t called it that. I used to be a great gap filler.

Followers of Jesus are told to: “Look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of the others.” [Philippians 2:4].

For me, sometimes it’s in my best interests to say “no”. And sometimes it’s in the best interests of others that I say “no”. A thoughtful “no” is better than an automatic “yes” when it comes to gap-filling. And that still allows room for a thoughtful “yes” if I am able to go the extra mile.

I don’t get it right all the time. But what helps me to think more clearly is knowing that God has my best interests at heart. He will look after me. I matter to him. And that really helps to take the heat out of gap-filling for validation. Which let’s face it, that’s what a lot of gap filling was actually about for me.

Reflections

1. Have you ever felt that going above and beyond became the expectation rather than the exception? How did that impact your motivation?
2. Have you ever found yourself quietly pulling back at work without realising it? What triggered it for you?
3. How often do you say “yes” to extra tasks out of habit, guilt, or expectation rather than genuine capacity?
4. Do you think quiet quitting is a healthy response, a warning sign, or something else entirely?
5. If you stopped automatically saying yes to everything, what might open up for you and for others?

Article provided with thanks to City Bible Forum.

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Rather than fighting them.

There are subtle and not-so-subtle ways that I try to push past my limits.

• Smashing my third or fourth coffee to power through the mid-afternoon slump.
• Skipping lunch breaks to squeeze more into my day.
• Putting in 10+ hour workdays or burning the midnight oil to get more done.
• Overcommitting and biting off more than I can chew.
• Saying yes to taking on additional responsibilities to add to an already full plate.
• Thinking that I could accomplish more, if only I had more time and energy.

These patterns point to striving to achieve or do more by overcoming my physical or mental limits.

I am reminded soon enough that going beyond my limits can only last for so long. There comes a point that not even another coffee can get the neurons in my brain firing when I am sleep deprived. If I try to push my limits for long enough, eventually my brain short circuits or my body crashes.

I actively fought my limits in a cycle of churn and burn for years in a demanding corporate job at a company with a high-performance culture. It took another cycle of burnout for me to come to the realisation that conquering my limits was unsustainable and required a significant change to break the cycle. For me, that meant stepping off the treadmill of a promising career trajectory at my previous company that I worked at for over a decade to taking on a less demanding job at a much smaller organisation.

Is there a better way than to constantly battle your limits? Is there an alternative narrative to that of seeing limits as deficiencies that inhibit you from achieving your full potential?

1. Acknowledge your limits

Acknowledge your limits to your capacity, energy and time, and how these fluctuate with different seasons of life.

I have come to terms that my days of boundless energy and high capacity are probably behind me. Gone are the days where I could bounce back quickly after a late night or when my available time is matched by available energy. The increasing number of white hairs on my head remind me that I am physically aging. A recent conversation with friends who are also in their mid-to-late thirties involved debating as to whether we would be classified as middle age. Time seems to slip through my fingers through each passing year.

There is grief in mourning the reduction in our capacity and energy that comes with age. I think back wistfully to my twenties when I had the capacity to be very actively involved in multiple ministries at church, run half marathons, work long hours in a demanding job, travel regularly and still maintain a social life.

What if limitations aren’t weaknesses that we fight but rather something we can graciously accept?

There is a sentence in the Bible I think is really helpful. “Teach us to number our days that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12). We won’t live forever. Our days are numbered. Our mortality could be the ultimate limitation – or it could be what helps us to live wisely and well in this world.

2. Flip the script and reframe your limits

“Finitude is an unavoidable aspect of our creaturely existence – you’re only human” Kelly M. Kapic

When I experienced a physical injury, it became a crash course in managing and navigating physical limitations. Breaking my ankle was a humbling experience as it meant that I had to rely on others to open doors, drive me around and carry things for me whilst I was crutches for weeks. I needed a physiotherapist to train me to build the strength and mobility to be able to walk properly again. I quickly learned that being physically incapacitated meant living with a level of helplessness with the loss of some independence. However, being dependent on others meant that I experienced the kindness of others who were willing to act as my hands and feet for me.

Our limits are what make us human. Limits are not deficiencies or weaknesses in our design but rather we are wired in a way that means that we need other people. We were made for community and connection with others. And as a follower of Jesus I would also argue that we are made for dependency on God and relationship with him.

Coming to terms with my creaturely human limits for me looks like no longer looking inwards and resenting my limitations. Embracing my God-given limits encourages me to look outwards to connect with others and asking for help in my neediness and looking upwards to Him upon whom my very existence depends on.

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” – Psalm 139:14

Reflection Questions

1. What is a mental or physical limit for you in this current season of life?

2. What are ways in which you try to overcome or fight your limits?

3. What would it look like to embrace your limits?

Article supplied with thanks to Third Space

About the Author: Julie works in finance in the not-for-profit space.

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When approval becomes a trap.

I was talking with a friend the other day. She has just taken on a new role in her workplace. She knows she needs to speak up more in meetings. She knows she doesn’t because she worries what people think of her.

I thought that the opinions of other people didn’t bother me so much. How wrong I was!

I started thinking about a work context where I am more than happy to contribute my ideas. I began to realise that a lot of that desire is driven by a need to prove why I’m in the room. I worked this out from the way I respond when my shared ideas encounter feedback. I take it way too much to heart. This is because in rejecting my idea, they are also rejecting me.

Both my friend and I have fear of other people’s opinions – it just manifests itself in different ways. In some situations it keeps me talking – while for my friend, it keeps her silent.

What is FOPO?

Fear of other people’s opinions – or FOPO- is a term coined by high performance psychologist and author Michael Gervais. FOPO is having an unhealthy fixation on what other people think of us. It can be distracting, limiting or even debilitating. It can stop us putting forward new ideas (or in my case, being overly sensitive to the reception of ideas), speaking up in meetings, having difficult conversations, or trying something new.

FOPO traps us into devoting our energy, attention and focus on attempting to manage what other people think of us. Which, when you think about it, is a losing battle because we really can’t control other people’s opinions. And it’s exhausting. As another friend of mine says: “You’ll be that puppy dog constantly after the next pat on the head. And that’s quite an exhausting way to live, and it’s really unpredictable and inconsistent.” Devoting our energy, attention and focus in this way means we are less able to bring our best selves into the room.

So what’s the solution?

Do we just need to be braver? How do we become braver?

It strikes me that what we need is something to anchor ourselves for those times we can get buffeted by the opinions of others. And it’s best to work out what those anchors are when the waters are calm.

The anchor could be, for example, the opinion of a trusted friend or mentor. That can give us perspective and help us to filter or assess the opinions in the room. Or it could be something we say to ourselves in opinion-threatening situations. For me, I can remind myself that my ideas should be more about the good of others and less about others feeling good about me.

While that thought might anchor me in the moment, it comes because of an even deeper anchor it is attached to. As a follower of Jesus, there should be something even more important to me than the opinions of other people.

“I tell you, my friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body and after that can do no more. But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after your body has been killed, has authority to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him. Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” Luke 12:4-7

Jesus says the only one who should be feared – and rightly feared – is God himself. And yet that fear is from a place of safety and security because of how valuable Jesus’ followers are to God.

I find those words both challenging and comforting. Challenging because I need to fear God more than I fear people. Comforting because I am valuable to God – I matter to him. The way for me to become braver is to fear God more, because then the opinions of others will matter less.

Knowing that my worth comes from God means I am freer to act for the good of others, and so I can bring more of my best self into the room. Sharing my ideas becomes less about wanting others to feel good about me, and more about what is good for others. It then becomes a less opinion-threatening situation. And I can then more thoughtfully and calmly assess the feedback on my ideas.

Questions

1. Have you observed any FOPO behaviours in yourself?
2. What could your anchors be in opinion-threatening situations?
3. How could you see this making a practical difference?

Article provided with thanks to City Bible Forum.

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I live in a house with too much stuff. That means when friends come over, my wife and I move the stuff from our living room into our bedroom. But when the friends leave, we have to move the stuff off our bed back into the living room.

We never get rid of the stuff. We keep shuffling it around. Nothing changes.

Is that how life feels? Like we don’t get anywhere?

Every year at New Year’s Eve, there’s the promise of a fresh start. But by Easter time, the world is back to where it was. Worse, I’m back to where I was. I’m the same person. My life hasn’t gone anywhere.

Why can’t I be better? Sometimes I blame the universe. The universe itself isn’t getting any better. The universe is like my 20 year old car, which leaks oil onto my driveway. It creaks and groans when I drive it. That’s because its parts are grinding away and falling apart.

If this universe isn’t getting any better, then what chance do I have of getting better? But what if there’s another way?

If you ever have any computer problems, then what you need is a 14 year old in the family. Whenever my wife has problems with her computer she calls our son, who simply turns off her computer, counts to 10, and then turns it on. Taaa-Daaaah! In other words, our son reboots the computer, and it works again.

That’s exactly what Easter offers us. A reboot. Because something in us — and in our world — is deeply broken, and we can’t fix it on our own.

The Easter Reboot

Maybe we know some of the facts of the Easter story? Jesus Christ, God himself, becomes one of us. He dies on a cross on Easter Friday. But he also rises back to life again on Easter Sunday.

What we might not know is that, when Jesus rose from the dead, it also rebooted the universe.

You see, when Jesus died on Easter Friday, it shut down the universe. Jesus, the Giver of Life, gives up his own life for us. God, the Maker of the Universe is dead. The lights are turned off. But when Jesus rises from the dead, back to life, on Easter Sunday, it reboots the universe. The lights are turned on again but … brighter than they were before.

It’s a reboot!

Recently, as a doctor, I did a refresher course on Cardiac Pulmonary Resuscitation (CPR). So much has changed in CPR since I was a junior doctor many years ago. The biggest change is the invention of the Automated External Defibrillator (AED) pads. Now, almost anyone can place AED pads on the heart attack victim, and the pads shock their heart back to life.

We Can Reboot the Heart!

But Jesus does something even better than this. When Jesus rises from the dead, he kickstarts a new life for us and the world. Yes, Jesus rises from the dead with a new and better body. But he also begins the project of restoring this universe into a better universe – his Kingdom, which will be filled with his love, mercy, peace, and justice. And there’s the promise of a new life for us – which Jesus calls Eternal Life – which begins now and continues into the life-to-come.

Christians believe we need this supercharged reboot because our chief problem isn’t only that we’re ageing and crumbling. It’s that we’ve cut ourselves off from God, the source of life and all goodness. Being cut off from God shapes us on the inside and means that our hearts don’t naturally move toward what is true, good, and beautiful on their own.

But when Jesus rises from the dead, it kickstarts the universe back into the direction of what’s true, good, and beautiful. And if we put our trust in him, Jesus also kickstarts our “hearts” back into the right direction.

So how can we receive this supercharged rebooted life? The Bible tells us to respond to Jesus’ call.

Take the Call

Whenever I receive a phone call from a number that I don’t recognise, I ignore it. But recently I took a call from a number I didn’t recognise. I’m glad I did. It was a person reaching out to me who I hadn’t been in touch with for a while. By taking his call, I got connected with him, and received an unexpected boost.

In a similar way, Easter is God’s way of reaching out to us, offering us a reboot. God is initiating a connection with us. We can respond by accepting God’s Easter call, maybe in a prayer, and connecting with him. We can ask Jesus to kickstart our heart in the right direction.

For a long time, I’ve found New Year’s Eves to be depressing. My family and I watch the fireworks on our screens. But it’s never impressive. I’ve also been too lazy to go to the city, to fight the crowds, to see the fireworks in person. I’m locked in a cycle of being a victim of my own apathy.

Last New Year’s Eve, friends offered us free tickets to see the world famous fireworks at The Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge. At first I said no because I didn’t want to be in the crowds and heat.

But my family snapped me out of my cycle of half-heartedness and said “What are you thinking? Someone is offering us free tickets to see the fireworks. We have to go!” So we went. And I’m so glad we did. Imagine missing out on the fireworks when all I had to do was accept the tickets?

Every year we can stay locked in our cycle of apathy and sometimes even despair. How can we ever break out of this and become a better person?

Easter offers us the chance of a supercharged reboot. We can be filled with Jesus’ Spirit of resurrection – his life and power. We can have a new life – Eternal Life – which empowers us to a new and better life, both now and in the life-to-come. All we have to do is take the call.

About the Author: Sam is a theologian, preacher, author, evangelist, ethicist, cultural analyst and medical doctor.

Article supplied with thanks to Espresso Theology.

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What Do You Plan to Do With Your One Wild and Precious Life?

In my teens and right up to my early-20s, I dreamt of being a real “risk taker”, and I had quotes like Robert Frost’s “I took the one less travelled/and that has made all the difference”, and Mary Oliver’s “What do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” plastered all over my inspiration board.

It was so easy to dream in a safe environment, where I didn’t have any real responsibilities apart from not getting a C in my accounting (but I always succeeded in getting a C anyway), and showing up for my part-time work on time (and mustering the courage to ask the very grumpy payroll clerk why I wasn’t paid for x hours). 

So I dreamt of going away to big adventures abroad. Maybe I could be a foreign news correspondent, writing stories on the weak and oppressed. Or maybe (when I wasn’t failing accounting) I could be some hot-shot business-type person. 

But soon, years after graduation and having worked several jobs, I found myself less keen on going down the “road less travelled”, and opted for a safe and comfortable existence. And the only “wild” thing I did in my life was to relocate from New Zealand to Australia for a job opportunity. 

But one day, God hit me with a real “road less travelled”, challenging me with what I would do with my “one wild and precious life”. 

The organisation that saw me move to Australia in the first place went through a restructure, which affected my role. They offered me another one. Around the same time, a job opportunity had come up with another organisation, but it required a huge leap of faith because I had to fundraise my own support (very wild!). 

Two opportunities presented themselves. No one would fault me if I went with the first option, because all I had to do was sign the papers, and move on. The second option, however, came with a lot of uncertainties as Australia was in an economic recession then. Fundraising in a recession sounded so foolish. 

So I … went with the second option. And God travelled with me down the “road less taken”, which I am not going to lie, was filled with kinds of obstacles and thorns, and wild animals. Yet we travelled together, and when we emerged at the end of the other side, I can gladly say going down the “road less travelled” with God made all the difference. 

Below are two things I learnt with God as my walking guide. 

God Provides

The news was awash with stories of rising grocery prices, inflation, and mortgage rate hikes, when I started fundraising. 

I wasn’t sure who would want to finance a ministry worker in the face of such ghastly news. In fact, it seemed almost absurd that I was trying to fundraise in such a lean time. 

Perhaps I should have just signed with my previous organisation, and not have to worry about finances. 

I wrestled with it every day, and my prayer group prayed with me and over me in our weekly Monday meetings. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to reach the mountain. 

And yet, over the months that followed, God provided through the generosity of His people. People who saw the vision and mission of this ministry, and wanted to invest in it so the gospel can go out.

It felt very surreal when the finances started coming in. It’s really hard to put it in words, so I’ll instead give you a soundbyte that was going through my mind.

“Whaaaatt…”

“This is craaazyyy”

“Noooo waayyy” 

Pretty much noises of disbelief. Like, God, I know You provide, but woowww, look at this! 

(I still get goosebumps re-telling this story.)

God Sustains 

I would be lying if I said finances came pouring in and my life was so amazing the moment I put my trust in God to provide, and the moment I did His will.

It was actually the reverse. My faith had never been more tested until I stepped into this role. I first came down with bronchitis and in the span of a month, a cold. People whom I had made appointments with to seek their support were suddenly made redundant, got sick, or completely forgot to show up. The X-Files theme song would make for the best OST in the back of all these happenings. 

Yet, God sustained me. He sustained me through the kindness of friends who prayed with me, heard my concerns, and bought meals for me. Another friend suggested I listen to a Tim Keller podcast titled, The Shield of Faith. 

“The enemy attacks at the front line,” Keller said. “People on the front line are much more likely to go down with a bullet than people who are cowering about five miles behind, like a lot of us do.” (It also felt God was bellowing into my heart.) 

Keller said the front line is the place of mission, where we open our mouths and go out on a limb to make the difference in a neighbourhood or city.

And when we do that, there’ll be all sorts of flying missiles. And this is why it’s so important for us to put on this “armour”, which is the shield of faith.

And that’s when fiery arrows and molten lava start pouring down, and this is when we have to lift our shields–big giant things, like a huge door–to defend ourselves. 

For me, lifting my “shield” meant praying, worshipping, and declaring God’s goodness in my life even on discouraging and disheartening days. I would pray, “The Lord is my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1-2 ESV), “I lift up my eyes to the hills, from where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:1-2).

And when my arms were tired of all the hefty lifting, I simply sought shelter under His wings (Psalm 91:4). Here I am God, just taking a cosy nap under Your wing. 

Venturing down the road less travelled isn’t always as glamorous as it’s made out to be. Sure, it made me feel bold and daring, going where no man would potentially go (especially in the middle of a recession), but it came with setbacks, bruised knees, and skinned thighs. 

Thankfully, my travel companion is also our Great Shepherd! And in His kindness and mercy, led me to green pastures and still waters (Psalm 23). While it may sound like He took me away on a big getaway, the real rest came to me when I surrendered (even though biting and kicking) it all to God because this is His work, and I am just His hands and feet. I had to rest in His provision and care. 

And He never fails. 

At the end of my first year, through God’s grace and the generosity of His people, I managed to meet my fundraising target. I was gobsmacked. 

And that role, which in human wisdom, would make more sense to sign on? It was rolled up after yet another restructure. (What a plot twist.)

Perhaps today you’re at a crossroads about a decision. You’ve been thinking of switching careers, taking unpaid leave to pursue further studies, or maybe feeling like God’s asking you to head down a really unexpected path. And your heart’s a little shaky about what the future holds. Can I assure you (after you have prayed and seek wise counsel) that you can trust God with the outcome because He is the most trustworthy walking guide you can ever have in your life.

Article supplied with thanks to City Bible Forum.

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A fitness teacher of mine (Bec’s) always starts our class with a word of encouragement for the participants.

He tells us not to worry too much if we don’t do as well as we did yesterday, or if we need to rest a little bit longer today. No two days are the same. Being kinder to ourselves today – so we can practice again tomorrow.

These words really struck a chord with me. It got me thinking about how this can be transferred to the rest of my life. How being kinder to myself could have a more positive impact on my relationships, life perspective and overall mental health and fitness.

Kindness and the noisy inner critic

Sometimes I have a very noisy inner critic. To give you some examples: “You told yourself you would clean the house today and here you are scrolling through social media”. “You said you’d run the full 30km and here you are, pulling out half way”. My inner critic tends to harp on about my laziness or lack of fitness or dedication. It tells me that’s why I haven’t achieved all I wanted to do that day.

This voice is louder, and gets more airtime, than the voice congratulating me for what I have achieved in a day – such as working a full time job, getting the washing done and actually cooking a meal rather than just getting takeaway for dinner.

This voice isn’t kind, and it’s loud because achievement is important to me. Which is not surprising really, given my:

• Comparisons with others. Whether I am conscious of comparing myself or not, scrolling through social media gives me the impression that everyone else is achieving more than I am. I know it’s just the highlight reel of people’s lives…but I still fall for it.
• External pressures. When I stop and think about it, I feel pressure from my peers, family and even society to conform to a particular standard. To hold down a demanding job, keep a tidy house and be a caring and committed family member and friend. There are times when I feel inadequate or like I am failing at this.
• Personal values. Achievement is important to me. It’s one of my personal values. Personal values motivate our behaviour, but are also the measure by which we judge it. So it can easily become the gate-keeper to my self-worth.
• Noticing the negative. I notice failure more easily than I notice success. Which is why I notice the cleaning I haven’t done, rather than the washing I have done.

How to be kinder to yourself

To be kinder to myself I have realised I need to reframe my thinking. I need to embrace variability. What I mean is…

• Variability between people. Everyone is different. I will only ever be me. So it’s important that I “stay in my lane” and do my best not to compare myself with others.
• Variability within me. I am also a human being. I am not a machine. There is a natural ebb and flow of productivity levels, energy and focus. Some days I am brimming with energy, ready to tackle any challenge. Other days I struggle to concentrate and feel less motivated.

When I embrace my variability, it has some very practical implications. For example, I can then:

• Be ok with having an off day. Acknowledging when I don’t feel up to something, and not just making up excuses.
• Celebrate the small wins – however minor they are. Celebrating when I see them, and just when other people point them out.
• “Stay in my lane” and resist the urge to compare myself with others. Practically I’m not trying to use social media for research purposes rather than mindless scrolling.
• Remember all my values – and not just privilege some. Achievement is one of my personal values – but so is health. If I remember them both then I’m ok to pull out half way on a 30km run. I don’t want to push and injure myself. If I only lean into achievement, then that’s fodder for my inner critic.
• Be present to notice and address the negative self-talk. I want to challenge it before it festers.
• Be ok with slow progress. Change takes time and where is the fun if I’m able to tick everything off straight away?

So Many Benefits

I can see how working on being kinder to myself has helped my mental fitness in terms of:

• Reducing stress
• Improving mood
• Increasing resilience
• Boosting confidence

So I wasn’t able to achieve all I wanted to in the day – that’s ok! Being kinder to myself is not only good for me but makes me a much more positive person to be around.

Being kinder to ourselves is an ongoing journey that requires self-awareness and patience. By being kinder to ourselves today, we create a space for personal growth, allowing us to come back even stronger tomorrow.

Kindness and self-worth

I (Caroline) have loved reading Bec’s writing above, because so much of it resonates with me!

“You told yourself you would clean the house today and here you are still watching that Netflix show” is what my inner critic says to me too! (Fortunately it doesn’t say anything about running!)

It’s got me thinking that it is easier to show kindness to ourselves when we are convinced our self-worth isn’t at stake.

As a follower of Jesus, I am reminded that my self-worth is defined by something other than myself.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” [Luke 12:6-7]

I am intimately known (God knows the number of hairs on my head!) and infinitely loved (worth more than the tiny sparrow, who God cares for too). That gives me my worth.

I might struggle to be kind to myself at times because I get caught up in an achievement loop. What shakes me free is remembering that God is kind to me in the life he has given me. I can acknowledge the limits of my humanity, and resist the temptation to compare myself. Embrace the God-given variability.

Time For Reflection

• In reading this blog, what stands out for you?
• Can you think of a recent scenario where you could have been kinder to yourself?
• Are there periods of the day or week or month where it is harder to demonstrate kindness to yourself?
• Is there an impact on others or do you just internalise it all?
• How do your personal values play into this?
• How do you think you could practice more self-kindness?

Article supplied with thanks to City Bible Forum.

Feature image: Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash