Perhaps Summer Is Just a Little Too Much

There is something slightly uncomfortable about admitting that summer is getting on your nerves.

Especially when the sun is shining.

You've just come back from a lovely holiday.

The children are off school.

Everything is, objectively, fine.

And yet, last week I felt so overstimulated.

Too hot.

Too sweaty.

Too little sleep.

Too many bugs.

Too much light at bedtime.

What on earth am I supposed to wear on my feet?

I am spending an unreasonable amount of time thinking about UV.

It's too hot to go outside, but I haven't been able to do my morning walk, which means I feel slightly off for the rest of the day.

The children are up later because it's still light.

There is no proper routine.

Everyone is tired.

And somehow there is always a wet swimming costume somewhere in the house.

Perhaps it's the heat.

Perhaps it's the summer holidays.

Perhaps it's the fact that I've spent the last few months carrying a lot of mental load and haven't quite realised how tired I am.

Or perhaps it's all of it.

You can be grateful and overwhelmed

I wasn't going to write about this.

Partly because it feels a little ungrateful.

I've just come back from a lovely holiday. I am fortunate to have had that time away. The sun is shining. There are plenty of objectively lovely things happening.

And still, I have felt overwhelmed.

I think we're sometimes given the impression that gratitude should cancel out difficult feelings.

That if we're lucky enough to have something good, we're not really entitled to find it difficult.

But two things can be true.

You can have had a wonderful holiday and still feel flat when you get home.

You can love summer and find it exhausting.

You can adore your family and desperately need ten quiet minutes in a room where nobody needs anything from you.

Being grateful doesn't mean your capacity is unlimited.

Your body doesn't always get the memo

I recently read something Fern Cotton had written about feeling overwhelmed and anxious during the first 48 hours of a holiday, despite being incredibly grateful to be there.

And I thought:

Yes. This.

Because I don't think we talk enough about the strange experience of being expected to relax before you've actually caught up with yourself.

The run-up to a holiday can be enormous.

There is planning, packing, organising, remembering, anticipating, finishing work, sorting everyone else out, and trying to make sure nothing important has been forgotten.

Then you arrive somewhere unfamiliar and, somehow, you're supposed to switch immediately from:

"Have I packed everything?"

to:

"Ahhh. Isn't this lovely?"

Sometimes your body needs a little longer.

When you're carrying a lot of responsibility, rest doesn't necessarily begin the moment that responsibility temporarily changes location.

Your brain doesn't receive the out-of-office and immediately clock off.

Sometimes it takes a few days to realise:

Oh. We're safe. I don't have to think about everything right now.

And perhaps that's why the first few days of a holiday can feel surprisingly strange.

You're physically somewhere else, but mentally you're still at home, working through the list.

Then you come home

I've been home for a week now.

So perhaps some of what I've been feeling is the holiday blues, too.

There's a strange little comedown that happens when something you've been looking forward to for months suddenly becomes a pile of laundry and a vague sense that normal life has resumed without asking whether you're ready.

You unpack.

You wash the swimming costumes.

You find sand in places that seem almost geographically impossible.

You open your inbox.

And suddenly the holiday feels like something that happened to another person.

I don't think there's anything particularly wrong with feeling a little flat after something lovely.

Perhaps it's simply the contrast.

You spend weeks anticipating a break, then a few days living it, and suddenly you're back in the ordinary rhythm of life.

Of course there's going to be a little adjustment.

And then there is summer itself

Summer has its own particular kind of sensory intensity.

The heat.

The disrupted sleep.

The long evenings.

The light coming through the curtains far earlier than feels necessary.

Being outside more.

The children being around more.

The constant tiny decisions.

What are we doing today?

What should everyone eat?

Is it too hot to go out?

Have they had enough water?

Where is the sun cream?

Why is there a wet towel on the floor?

None of these things are bad.

That's the strange part.

Summer can be beautiful and still be a lot.

Perhaps that's something I've become more aware of as I've got older.

Sometimes the things that overwhelm us aren't necessarily the things we dislike.

They're simply the things that require more of us.

And when your capacity is already stretched, even lovely things can feel like a lot of input.

Maybe you don't need to fix it

This is the part I've been reminding myself of.

When I feel off, my instinct is usually to do something about it.

Find the problem.

Create a better routine.

Work out what I'm doing wrong.

Make a list.

Perhaps this is why I find modern wellbeing culture so exhausting sometimes.

Even rest can become another project.

Am I resting correctly?

Have I done my morning routine?

Have I meditated?

Have I moved my body?

Have I drunk enough water?

Have I spent enough time in nature?

At some point, you have to laugh.

Perhaps I don't need another system.

Perhaps I'm just tired.

Perhaps it's too hot.

Perhaps I need ten minutes alone and a glass of something cold.

There is a difference between taking care of yourself and turning yourself into another problem to solve.

Find your way back to yourself

I've been thinking a lot about what actually helps me feel settled.

Not what is supposed to help.

What genuinely does.

Sometimes it's a walk.

Sometimes it's reading.

Sometimes it's being completely alone for a little while.

Sometimes it's seeing a friend.

Sometimes it's doing something practical with my hands.

And sometimes it's doing absolutely nothing productive whatsoever.

I think we're all different in this respect.

Some people need quiet.

Some need movement.

Some need routine.

Some need a change of scenery.

Some need company.

Some need space.

There isn't one correct way to feel restored.

The important thing is learning to recognise what restores you.

That feels particularly important during a season when everything around us seems to be saying:

Go outside.

Make the most of it.

Stay up late.

Enjoy every minute.

Sometimes making the most of summer might simply mean listening to your own capacity.

Perhaps this is enough

If you've felt a little off lately, perhaps you don't need to work out what's wrong with you.

Perhaps you're overstimulated.

Perhaps you're tired.

Perhaps your routine has disappeared and you're finding that harder than expected.

Perhaps you've spent months carrying a mental load that you haven't fully put down yet.

Perhaps your body needs a little longer to catch up with the rest of you.

You don't have to turn every uncomfortable feeling into a lesson.

You don't have to optimise your way back to yourself.

And you certainly don't have to feel guilty for finding a beautiful season difficult.

This is a lot.

Sometimes that is the most honest thing you can say.

A little permission slip for the rest of summer

You are allowed to go home early.

You're allowed to miss your usual routine.

You're allowed to sit somewhere cool and read instead of making the most of the sunshine.

You're allowed to say no to plans.

You're allowed to want your children in bed at a reasonable hour, even if the sun strongly disagrees.

You're allowed to enjoy summer without enjoying every single part of it.

And you're allowed to look forward to September.

Personally, I am.

There is something deeply appealing about the thought of cooler mornings, proper evenings, a little more structure, and a kettle going on without immediately making the kitchen feel like a greenhouse.

But until then, I'm trying not to rush myself through the season.

Perhaps I'll simply let it be what it is.

A little beautiful.

A little chaotic.

A little too much.

And, somehow, all of those things at once.

A question to sit with

If you've been feeling more overwhelmed than usual lately, perhaps ask yourself:

What would make my days feel 10% gentler right now?

Not perfect.

Not productive.

Not your ideal routine.

Just gentler.

Maybe it's an earlier night.

A quiet morning.

Fewer plans.

A walk when the temperature drops.

Ten minutes alone.

Asking someone else to take something off your plate.

Or simply admitting that you're tired.

You don't need to reinvent your life.

You might just need to make a little more room inside it.

Final thoughts

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.

Perhaps we're not always looking for more.

Perhaps sometimes we're looking for less.

Less noise.

Less pressure.

Less expectation.

Less trying to make every moment meaningful.

There is nothing wrong with loving your life and occasionally finding it exhausting.

There is nothing wrong with being grateful and needing a break.

There is nothing wrong with enjoying summer and counting down the days until autumn.

Two things can be true.

So, if you've felt it too, you're not alone.

I'm sitting here, slightly too hot, slightly under-slept, wondering what shoes are appropriate for this weather, and waiting patiently for September.

We'll get through this. 🌿

FAQ

Why can summer feel so overwhelming?

Summer can involve several simultaneous changes, including heat, disrupted sleep, longer daylight hours, changes to routine, school holidays, more social activity, and increased sensory stimulation. For someone already carrying a high mental load, these changes can feel surprisingly demanding.

Why can I feel low after a holiday?

Returning from a holiday involves a significant change in environment and routine. The contrast between anticipation, time away, and returning to everyday responsibilities can leave some people feeling flat or unsettled. It doesn't mean you didn't enjoy your holiday.

Can I be grateful and still feel overwhelmed?

Absolutely. Gratitude and overwhelm aren't mutually exclusive. You can appreciate your circumstances whilst recognising that your current capacity is stretched.

How can I make summer feel more manageable?

Rather than adding another complicated routine, consider what genuinely helps you feel restored. This might mean more quiet time, fewer commitments, maintaining a familiar routine, changing your environment, getting enough sleep, or simply giving yourself permission to do less.