Mind to Function

Written by Wieteke Idzerda, Occupational Therapist, CRT Therapist

Life, lately, feels like a pressure cooker.

Not the nostalgic kind that whistles softly on a Sunday afternoon, but the kind that sits heavy on the stove — sealed tight, heat building, no obvious release valve. Every role I carry adds another degree: mother, partner, friend, professional, community member. Each one meaningful. Each one chosen, in some way. And yet together, they create a weight that is hard to name and harder to put down.

There’s a quiet expectation stitched through all of it — that I will do each role well. More than well. Exact and above expectation. That I will be patient, present, productive, compassionate, competent. That I will hold space for others without needing much space myself. That I will give without tallying the cost.

And I do try. I try in the small, invisible ways that don’t make it into conversations or captions. In the early mornings and late nights. In the mental load that never quite switches off – even now as I reflect while writing this.  In the constant recalibrating — have I done enough here? Have I shown up properly there? Did I miss something? Could I have done that better?

From an occupational therapy lens, I can see what’s happening — even if I don’t always know how to change it.

This isn’t just “being busy.” It’s an occupational imbalance. Too much time and energy poured into roles that demand output, productivity, and care for others, and not enough into occupations that restore, nourish, or simply allow me to exist without expectation (Wilcock, 1998; Wagman et al., 2012). My occupational profile looks full — but not necessarily sustaining.

My roles are meaningful, but they are also layered. Mother, wife, clinician, friend, community member — each comes with its own set of expectations, responsibilities, and emotional labour. Role strain isn’t surprising when the cumulative demand outweighs the capacity to hold them all well, all the time (Kielhofner, 2008).

My habits and routines — the things that are meant to support me — have quietly shifted into patterns of over-functioning. Automatically saying yes. Filling gaps. Anticipating needs (all the time). Staying one step ahead. They are efficient, but not always intentional. They keep the system running, but they don’t always keep me well. In MOHO terms, habituation has become organised around others’ needs, rather than my own sustainability (Kielhofner, 2008).

And then there is volition — the part of me that is about choice, motivation, and what actually matters the most to me.

If I’m honest, that part has become quieter.

Not gone — but harder to hear under the noise of obligation and expectation. What I want to do, what restores me, what feels aligned with who I am beyond my roles — those signals get overridden by what needs to be done. Over time, it becomes harder to distinguish between what I choose and what I feel compelled to carry (Kielhofner, 2008).

What’s confronting is not just the effort, but the quiet fear that sits underneath it: that all of this trying might pass largely unseen. That at the end of it all, the nuance of what I’ve held, stretched, and carried won’t be captured in neat summaries or spoken aloud in rooms of remembrance. That the intention — to love well, to contribute meaningfully, to be steady for others — might not translate into something visible or easily named. As I write and reread this specific fear, I can feel myself dismiss it and essentially tell myself to stop being so “self absorbed” or “attention seeking”. It’s interesting to sit with this and consider it.

Maybe this is also where occupational therapy offers something grounding.

That meaning doesn’t only sit in outcomes or recognition — it sits in occupation itself. In the doing, being, becoming, and belonging that shape a life (Wilcock, 1998; Hammell, 2004). Even when it’s quiet. Even when it’s unseen.

Still, that doesn’t make the pressure disappear.

Because somewhere in all of this, there is also me. Not just the roles I occupy, but the person underneath them. The one who sometimes wonders what it would feel like to exist without performing usefulness. To have space that isn’t already spoken for. To be known not just for what I give, but for who I am when I’m not giving anything at all.

That space can feel hard to find — or even harder to justify.

And yet, without it, the pressure only builds.

Maybe the work isn’t about perfectly balancing all the roles. Maybe that’s an impossible equation. Maybe it’s about gently rebalancing my occupations — not by removing what matters, but by making room for myself within it. Protecting small pockets of time that are not driven by obligation. Interrupting habits that keep me overextended. Listening, again, to volition — even if it starts as a whisper (Wagman et al., 2012).

Because a pressure cooker, without release, doesn’t just hold — it eventually breaks.

And I don’t want a life that looks full from the outside but feels unsustainable from within.

I want a life where being a good mum, a good partner, a good friend, and a contributing member of my community doesn’t come at the cost of losing myself entirely. Where occupational balance isn’t a luxury, but a necessity. Where my roles are held with flexibility, not rigidity. Where my habits support me, not just everyone else. Where my choices reflect not only what is needed — but what is meaningful to me.

Maybe it’s in the people who feel a little more held because I was here.

Maybe it’s in the patterns I shift — including the ones within myself.

Maybe it’s in choosing, quietly but consistently, a life that is not just full — but sustainable.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

References:

Hammell, K. W. (2004). Dimensions of meaning in the occupations of daily life. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 71(5), 296–305. https://doi.org/10.1177/000841740407100509

Kielhofner, G. (2008). Model of human occupation: Theory and application (4th ed.). Lippincott Williams & Wilkins.

Wagman, P., Håkansson, C., & Björklund, A. (2012). Occupational balance as used in occupational therapy: A concept analysis. Scandinavian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 19(4), 322–327. https://doi.org/10.3109/11038128.2011.596219

Wilcock, A. A. (1998). Reflections on doing, being and becoming. Canadian Journal of Occupational Therapy, 65(5), 248–256. https://doi.org/10.1177/000841749806500501