There’s a version of resentment that doesn’t look loud.

It doesn’t slam doors…
It doesn’t scream…

It simmers.

For me, it showed up as tightness in my chest by Sunday afternoon.
As snapping over shoes in the hallway.
As feeling irrationally annoyed when someone asked me a simple question.

I remember one specific Saturday. I had already grocery shopped, done laundry, cleaned the kitchen twice, helped with a school project, and answered “just a few” work emails. By mid-afternoon, I was exhausted — and irritated. My husband asked for help finding something, and I felt it rise.

That flash of: Why am I the only one thinking about everything? Why does this always fall on me?

Here’s the part I didn’t want to admit: No one had officially assigned me the role of Household CEO.

I had taken it.

Picked it up slowly over time. Perfected it. Owned it.

And then quietly resented everyone for letting me.

That’s the kind of resentment we don’t talk about, because it feels unfair to say out loud. It feels selfish, like we’re blaming the very people we love.

But what I’ve learned — in my own life and in working with overwhelmed women who are carrying it all — is this: Resentment is often grief in disguise.

Grief for the time you don’t have, for the space you don’t take, and for the version of you that keeps getting postponed.

I value connection.
I value presence.
I value feeling calm in my own home.

But I was behaving like control and productivity mattered more.

The more I tried to stay on top of everything, the more drained I felt. And the more drained I felt, the more impatient I became. It was a cycle I was fueling, even though I was convinced everyone else was the problem.

The turning point wasn’t dramatic. It was small, uncomfortable shifts:

• Not answering the email until morning.

• Blocking my calendar for lunch and protecting it.

• Letting my husband take full ownership of certain responsibilities — even when he did them differently than I would.

• Saying, “I’m not available for that.”

The first few times? I felt guilty. Almost panicked. What if something fell through the cracks? What if people were disappointed?

But nothing catastrophic happened.

And slowly, something surprising did.

The resentment softened.

Life didn’t get less full. My family didn’t suddenly anticipate every need. But I stopped over-functioning in ways that disconnected me from myself.

Here’s what I realized: Resentment builds when your boundaries don’t match your values.

It’s not just that you’re “doing too much,” or your family is asking too much. You keep saying yes to things your nervous system is quietly screaming no to. And when you ignore that long enough, irritation becomes your default.

So here’s the question I want you to sit with this week:

Where are you quietly building resentment because you keep volunteering for things no one actually forced you to do?

Don’t blame; take ownership. Remember that you are not a victim of your calendar, and you are not trapped by everyone else’s expectations. You are a capable, driven, loving woman who may have forgotten that your energy matters too.

Look at the resentment not as a character flaw, but as a signal. A whisper that something needs to shift. And the shift doesn’t have to be dramatic.

It might be:

• One delegated task.

• One protected hour.

• One honest sentence.

Try One Thing (TOT):
The next time you feel irritation rising, pause. Instead of asking, “Why is no one helping?” ask, “What boundary am I not honoring right now?”

That question alone can change everything.

And don’t try to carry it all better; the goal is to carry only what’s truly yours.