Note from the (slightly frazzled) author: If you’re someone who can handle multiple conversations, background noise, a toddler at your feet, and a pan boiling over without breaking a sweat — please teach me your ways. If not? Welcome. You’re in the right place. This post contains no parenting hacks, no magical fixes, and definitely no unsolicited advice. Just one overwhelmed introvert trying to cook dinner without short-circuiting.

Let’s talk about something that doesn’t get mentioned enough: sensory overload. 😵‍💫

If you’ve never experienced it, picture that early 2000s advert with a kid relentlessly chanting:
“Mum, can I have a rabbit? Mum, can I have a rabbit? Mum, can I have a rabbit?”

Now layer on a ringing phone, a TV blaring in the background, something burning on the stove, and your inbox pinging with three “just a quick one” emails.

It’s like your brain is trying to run on too many tabs at once — and they all crash.

I used to experience sensory overload every now and then — maybe during a particularly loud work meeting or on a packed commute. But since becoming a parent? It’s levelled up. It’s now a regular, sometimes daily, part of life.

And it doesn’t always take much.

Simply trying to listen to my partner while my little one taps my leg and says “Mummy? Mummy? Mummy?” on loop? Instant overwhelm.

Two people talking at once? Cue internal system shutdown.

Trying to cook while being interrupted every ten seconds with snack requests, questions, and the occasional toy being flung into the room like a warning shot? Flustered tailspin activated.

There are days when it feels like I’m being pulled in multiple directions — physically, emotionally, mentally — and my nervous system is just not keeping up with the demands.

It’s frustrating, because I want to be present. I want to be calm. I want to feel capable.
But when everything feels loud and fast and too much, I go into survival mode.

And survival mode looks a lot like having a meltdown and hiding in the bathroom to calm down.

I’ve realised I need to find better ways to cope with the constant tug-of-war of life.
To carve out micro-moments of stillness.
To advocate for space when I need it (even if it’s just a few minutes).
To not feel guilty for needing quiet.

I don’t have the answers yet. I haven’t mastered the art of remaining Zen while someone’s climbing on my back mid-sentence.

But I’m starting small.

Deep breaths. 😮‍💨
Counting to ten. 🔟
Reminding myself that needing space doesn’t make me a bad mom, partner, employee, or person.🧘‍♀️

It makes me human — and an introverted one at that.

So if you’re also living with the constant hum of chaos in your ears, I see you.

And I’ll be over here — noise-cancelling headphones on, coffee in hand — kicking sensory overload’s butt.

Or at least, giving it a run for its money.