Mentally Imbalanced? Rigid? Pope Francis, Look in the Mirror
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There are days I wake up already behind.
Not because I’m lazy. Not because I’m disorganized. But because life is heavy—and I’m the one carrying it.
I’m a mom, a Catholic convert, a waitress—and someone who’s had to fight hard to rebuild a life with Christ at the center. There are days I’m still healing from things I don’t talk about—verbal abuse, narcissistic manipulation, betrayal, fear. There are days when I feel like I’ve poured myself out and I’m still being asked for more.
Like I’m always on call.
Like I’m not allowed to just be tired.
This is how it looks in my world. But I know I’m not the only one.
Whether you’re a mom, a dad, a provider, a priest, a college kid, or someone just trying to stay faithful in a loud and chaotic world—you know what it’s like to wake up already behind.
And then one tiny thing—a spill, a rude customer, an unexpected bill, a hormone shift, a change in plans, a passive-aggressive comment from my teenager—can feel like the final blow. I find myself thinking:
“This is too much. I can’t do this. Why is everyone pulling at me?”
And I want to quit.
Or shut down.
Or cry in the bathroom.
Or drive away in silence and not answer anyone’s texts.
And if I scroll for comfort, the world is right there, waiting to validate every feeling.
The Culture Is Loud—And It’s Lying to Us
Let’s name it: the world we live in is LOUD—and it’s constantly shouting the wrong things.
It tells women:
“Protect your peace.”
“You’re PMSing? Stay in bed.”
“You don’t owe anyone anything.”
It tells men:
“Don’t let people lean on you too much.”
“You’re tired? Just quit.”
“You’re not the Savior—don’t act like it’s your job to carry the load.”
Whether you’re a mom, a dad, or a young adult trying to show up for your family, your job, your parish—the message is the same:
Quit. Protect. Withdraw.
“Don’t carry the cross. You’re not supposed to suffer.”
But Jesus doesn’t coddle.
He calls.
And I’ll be honest—sometimes I buy into the lie. I let my feelings drive the bus. I spiral. I sulk. I slam cabinets and want someone else to step up for once. I start thinking things like:
“I need to think about myself for once.”
“Nobody else is doing what I’m doing.”
“If I don’t protect myself, who will?”
And then, like He always does, God finds a way to pierce through the noise.
When I Had My Meltdown…
Yesterday, I hit one of those days. You know the kind. I was tired. My hormones were raging. I was mentally spiraling and feeling sorry for myself. Everything felt like too much. I was halfway convinced no one appreciated me and nothing I did mattered.
And then—someone who knows me very well—someone who sees right through my moods and meltdowns and knows exactly what I need when I need it—sent me a meme. Just a simple reminder. But it wrecked me—in the best way:
“Martha wasn’t blamed for serving—but for being anxious and distracted. Serve Christ with joy, not with worry.”
That truth hit me like a ton of bricks.
Because I was serving.
I was showing up.
But I was doing it with a heart full of tension, resentment, and not-so-silent martyrdom.
Martha’s Problem Wasn’t Service—It Was Her Spirit
I’ve been Martha. So many times.
Frustrated. Flustered. Muted by resentment. Muted by pride.
We read her story in Luke 10:38–42, and it’s easy to think Jesus was anti-effort. But that’s not the case. Martha was trying to do the right thing—she just got lost in her doing. She let the pressure become the priority. She started serving with a heart full of fear instead of peace. She was likely in full-blown “this is too much” mode. Slamming pots. Muttering under her breath. Stewing in the kitchen while everyone else sat down and breathed.
She wasn’t just overwhelmed—she was likely resentful.
And when she finally snapped? Jesus didn’t shame her. He didn’t dismiss her effort. He just redirected her heart.
And Jesus didn’t say, “Stop working.”
He said:
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things. But one thing is necessary.”
(Luke 10:41–42)
He wasn’t rebuking her for cooking.
He was inviting her back to the one thing that mattered: Him.
My Everyday “Martha Moments”
Let me be real about what that looks like in my own life:
I’m prepping meals before work, my daughter is complaining about something petty, and I lose it mid-scramble.
I’m working a long shift at the diner, barely getting a break, and a rude customer pushes my last button.
I’m helping a friend in need of advice, and deep down I’m screaming, "I don't have the bandwidth for this right now!”
I’m PMSing, aching, and emotionally drained—but still doing dishes, smiling at customers through gritted teeth, washing clothes, and trying to stay grounded—and then I spiral because no one notices.
But it’s not just me.
Maybe for you it’s:
A boss who keeps piling on work.
A parish that leans hard but gives little.
A household you’re spiritually holding together.
Financial pressure. Aging parents. Emotional burnout.
The details are different, but the weight? It’s all the same.
And still, I hear it in my spirit:
If Jesus put this in front of me today, then this is my assignment today.
Joy Isn’t Just a Mood. It’s My Marching Orders.
Joy isn’t about ease.
Joy isn’t about personality.
Joy is about OBEDIENCE.
Joy says:
“This isn’t beneath me—it’s for Him.”
“This isn’t random—it’s part of my sanctification.”
“I don’t feel ready, but I trust the One who sent it.”
There’s a difference between dying to self and just dying on the inside while sighing loudly.
Joy is what the world can’t fake and the devil can’t stand.
And it’s what makes the difference.
This Culture Calls Me to Quit. Christ Calls Me to Rise.
Let’s be brutally honest:
The world says:
“If it’s hard, it’s wrong.”
Jesus says:
“If it’s hard, take up your cross.”
The world says:
“Take care of you first.”
Jesus says:
“Seek first the Kingdom.”
The world says:
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
Jesus says:
“I am with you always, even in this.”
So What Now?
I remind myself:
If Jesus allowed it in my day, there’s grace for it.
If it’s in front of me, it’s not random—it’s divine.
If I let go of worry and pick up joy, I can live this well—even in the mess.
I'll still cry. I'll still mess up. I'll still get hormonal and say too much or shut down and say too little.
But then I'll remember what’s true. I'll take a breath. I'll say:
“Okay, Jesus. This too is for You. Let me serve You with joy.”
And that changes everything.
Today, I’m Choosing Joy
Not because I’m feeling it.
Because I’m choosing it.
Because I trust that if He handed me this day, He’ll carry it with me.
And if you’re reading this in the middle of your own “too much” moment—whether you’re in the trenches of motherhood, fatherhood, spiritual leadership, daily provision, or unseen faithfulness—I want to pass on the reminder that was given to me:
You weren’t blamed for serving.
You were just anxious and distracted.
Come back to Him.
Serve Him with joy.
Let go of the guilt.
Ask for grace.
Take a deep breath.
And walk forward.
You don’t have to feel strong.
You just have to stay faithful.
He’ll do the rest.
Laura Rosenberg is a dedicated single mother and a joyful Catholic convert who entered the Church at the Easter Vigil in 2017. With a fiery passion for her faith, Jesus, and pro-life advocacy, she brings a unique perspective to her writing. As a survivor of domestic violence in the form of narcissistic abuse, she shares her journey of resilience and faith, offering hope and inspiration to others. In her free time, she enjoys spending quality time with her daughter and deepening her spiritual life through time spent in Eucharistic Adoration, attending Mass, spiritual reading, and fellowship with other devout Catholics.
