A Letter to the Mom Crying in Her Black SUV

If you are reading this from the driver’s seat of your black SUV, eyes still burning from the tears you wiped away before the kids climbed in, I want you to know something. You are not broken, failing, or dramatic. You are human. And you are carrying far too much alone.

Maybe you cried because the mental load feels relentless.
Maybe you cried because you have not sat down in silence in what feels like years.
Maybe the 90s playlist you turned on just to feel something familiar cracked open a part of you that has been asking for attention.
Maybe the cold coffee on your dashboard reminded you once again that you always come last.

Whatever opened the floodgates today, I want to speak directly to you.

You are not invisible. You are not alone. You are not weak.

Motherhood stretches you to your edges in ways no one prepared you for. You are coordinating school drop offs, sports schedules, medical appointments, grocery lists, work meetings, emotional labor, and the invisible to-do list that haunts you from the moment you wake up until the moment you finally collapse into bed.

And somewhere in the middle of everyone else’s needs, you are expected to breathe.
You are expected to be grounded.
You are expected to take care of yourself.
You are expected to hold it all with grace and softness while your nervous system is running on fumes.

Here’s the truth that rarely gets said out loud.
The strongest moms are often the ones crying in parking lots.
You cry because you care deeply.
You cry because you keep going even when the world is heavy.
You cry because you love your people so fiercely that the weight of it sometimes breaks you open.

If you are sitting in your SUV trying to pull yourself together, you are seen.

You deserve support.
You deserve connection.
You deserve a space where you do not have to be strong for a minute.

As a therapist serving clients in Upper Bucks County and throughout Pennsylvania and New York, I work with the moms who are overwhelmed, overstretched, and quietly unraveling between errands. I want you to know that your feelings make sense. Your story matters. And healing is possible.

Not the perfect healing you see online. The real kind. The grounded kind. The kind that helps you feel like yourself again.

You do not have to carry this alone.

Therapy can help you rediscover the parts of yourself buried under the mental load.
It can help you manage anxiety, regulate your nervous system, strengthen boundaries, and stop feeling like life is happening at you.
It can help you breathe again.
It can give you space to exist outside of the roles you fill every day.

You deserve that.

If today was a crying in the SUV day, here is your reminder.

You are worthy of softness.
You are allowed to rest.
You are allowed to ask for help.
You are allowed to take up space in your own life.
You are doing a better job than you think.

Whenever you are ready, I am here.
You do not have to white knuckle this season.
You deserve support, too.
And even in the parking lot, even in the black SUV, even in the thickest moments of overwhelm, you are worthy.

You are seen.
You are held.
You are not alone.