Mental load: putting it down somewhere

"Mental load" has become a catch-all phrase. Behind it lies something very precise: the work of remembering. Not doing the shopping — thinking about the shopping. Not making the appointment — remembering that it needs to be made, and thinking about it again at 7am, at 11am, and once more in the evening as you fall asleep.

It's this work that wears you out, because it never stops and it never produces anything. A day when you've done nothing but spend your time not forgetting anything is a tiring day, and the tiredness feels unjustified — which makes it worse.

Why writing is already enough

Your head doesn't distinguish between "I have to do this" and "I have to remember this". As long as an intention isn't written down anywhere, it comes back at regular intervals, like a reminder that won't switch off. It's a sound design: without writing, forgetting would be costly.

The day the intention is placed somewhere reliable, that reminder stops. The key word is reliable: a scrap of paper in a pocket isn't enough, because you can't be sure you'll read it again. You need a place you reopen every day without thinking about it — otherwise your head carries on doing the work twice over, just in case.

Clearing your head, once, in ten minutes

This happens in a single sitting, and it's worth redoing every two or three months. Take ten minutes and write down everything going through your head, without sorting, without ranking, without asking yourself if it's important. Appointments to make, emails to write, the birthday present, the broken lamp, the question to ask the landlord, the insurance to compare.

Sorting comes afterwards, and it's quick: whatever takes less than two minutes gets done straightaway; whatever has a date gets its date; whatever is a project gets broken down into a first step; the rest stays written, with no date, and that's fine. What matters isn't the filing system, it's that nothing is left only in your head.

What actually changes

It isn't dramatic, and that's precisely the sign that it's working: waking up at 3am with the feeling you've forgotten something becomes rarer. You finish one task without the other eight running in the background. And above all, you can decide not to do something — a decision that's impossible as long as the thing only exists as a thought, because you can't let go of something you haven't actually looked at.

The two traps

The first: writing in several places. A note on your phone, a Post-it on the fridge, an email you send yourself. Your head then starts its watch duty all over again, since no single place is complete. One place, even an imperfect one, beats three tidy ones.

The second: turning the list into a courtroom. If the place where you put everything down sends back warning colours, broken streaks and lateness counters, your head will very quickly learn it's better not to open it. And a list you don't open brings no one any relief.

What a list doesn't do

Writing makes things visible. That's already a great deal, particularly for the mental load of running a household, which is mostly invisible: as long as "remember to" isn't written down anywhere, it looks like nothing, and it can't be shared. A list won't share out the tasks for you, but it gives you something to point to, and a conversation becomes possible.

The rest — saying no, asking for help, accepting that something won't get done this week — has nothing to do with an app. But it's noticeably easier in front of a written list than inside a full head.

Common questions