The Case for Junk Drawers: Postpartum Mental Health, Motherhood, and the Pressure to Have It All Together

Rachael McLaughlin
3 minutes ago
5 min read

This blog idea didn’t come to me during a deep, reflective moment or in the middle of a therapy session. It came when friends were over at my house, standing in the kitchen, looking for something.

One of them opened that drawer. You know the one.

The junk drawer.

Batteries, random cords, expired coupons, a mysterious key we definitely don’t own anymore, and at least one thing no one can identify but refuses to throw away “just in case.”

I immediately blurted out, “Oh god, don’t look in there!”

Without missing a beat, my friend laughed and said, “Oh please. We all have a junk drawer.”

And just like that, the moment passed. No judgment. No awkwardness. No explanation required.

But later that night, I kept thinking about it, because the relief I felt in that moment was bigger than the drawer itself.

From Kitchens to Real Life

That tiny interaction stuck with me because it felt like a metaphor for so much of life, especially motherhood.

We spend a lot of time curating the visible parts of ourselves, our homes, our schedules, our parenting, our emotions. We apologize for the mess before anyone even comments. We say “we’re good” even when we’re overwhelmed. We present the version of ourselves that feels acceptable, put-together, and coping.

And yet, the truth is simple: Everyone has a junk drawer. In their house. In their life. In their parenthood.

The messy parts we hide, the overwhelm, the anxiety, the mental load, the half-finished thoughts, the feelings that don’t fit neatly into gratitude: they aren’t signs that something is wrong. They’re signs that we’re human.

And this isn’t just about cluttered drawers. Many of the clients I work with share that body image struggles, especially after having a baby and into motherhood, show up right alongside this emotional overwhelm. Not because they’re doing anything wrong, but because our identity shifts all while grief and cultural pressure get quietly tucked away beneath the surface while we’re trying to hold it all together.

As a therapist who works in perinatal / maternal mental health and also specializes in eating disorders, I see this every day. The pressure to appear “fine” often makes anxiety, depression, and burnout feel heavier and lonelier than they already are.

What Happens When We Hide the Mess

When life feels curated, comparison creeps in. When comparison creeps in, anxiety follows.

We start thinking:

“Everyone else has it together.”
“Why am I still struggling?”
“I should be happier than this.”
“What’s wrong with me?”

This is especially common in motherhood, where the cultural script tells us we should feel grateful, fulfilled, and adjusted, quickly.

But when we hide our messes, we unintentionally send the message that everyone else’s mess is abnormal. And that’s where shame grows. Shame thrives in secrecy. Anxiety thrives in isolation. Depression deepens when we feel alone in our experience.

I’ve professionally and personally seen the same pressure to appear okay (and grateful) show up in many parts of the perinatal experience, including during my recent pregnancy (check out the blog I wrote about navigating medical diagnoses like gestational diabetes) when mental health can feel isolating, overwhelming, and hard to talk about honestly.

From a nervous system perspective (I promise I’ll keep this part gentle), honesty creates safety. When we see that other people’s lives are also imperfect, our bodies relax. Our shoulders drop. Our breath deepens. We feel less “on edge.”

The Junk Drawer Experiment

After that night, I had a thought: What if we treated life the way we treat junk drawers?

So I asked a few friends if they’d be willing to send me photos of their junk drawers. What came back made me laugh out loud, and feel unexpectedly comforted.

They were all different… and somehow exactly the same.

Random cords. Loose batteries. Takeout menus. Rubber bands. Notes we’ll never read again. Total chaos, tucked neatly away.

cluttered kitchen junk drawer in a busy home representing motherhood, mental load, and postpartum mental health

junk drawer filled with miscellaneous items representing the mental load of motherhood and postpartum anxiety

Looking at them didn’t make me judge anyone.

It made me feel closer to them. And that’s the point.

Letting a Little More of It Show

Being more honest doesn’t mean sharing everything with everyone. It doesn’t mean turning every conversation into a therapy session or putting your most vulnerable thoughts on display before you’re ready.

It means allowing some of the mess to be visible, in ways that feel safe and supportive for you.

It might sound like:

“Today was hard.”
“I don’t have it together right now.”
“My house is chaos and so is my brain.”
“I’m struggling more than I expected.”

It might be texting a friend instead of keeping it all in. It might be choosing one person you trust and letting them see a little more of your real experience.It might be simply not pretending everything is fine when it isn’t.

In my work with clients navigating postpartum anxiety, postpartum depression, and the everyday emotional weight of motherhood, I see how powerful even small moments of honesty can be.

Not because everything suddenly gets fixed, but because something shifts.

Connection grows. Shame softens. The nervous system settles.

And often, the response isn’t judgment, it’s, “Oh my gosh… me too.”

You get to decide what, when, and with whom you share, and that choice matters.

Why This Matters for Maternal Mental Health

We don’t heal maternal mental health challenges in isolation. We heal them in community, in honesty, and in moments of shared humanity.

When we normalize imperfection:

Anxiety feels less threatening
Depression feels less personal
Overwhelm feels more manageable

As a practice focused on both eating disorders and maternal mental health, we see how anxiety, depression, and emotional overload often thrive in silence, and soften when people feel less alone and more supported.

And our kids? They benefit too. They learn that homes can be lived-in, emotions can be messy, and people don’t have to be perfect to be loved.

No one walks out of your house judging you for your junk drawer. They walk out feeling closer to you.

A Gentle Invitation

So here’s my invitation, to myself and to you:

Let the drawer be messy. Leave the laundry unfolded sometimes. Tell the truth a little more often.

Because when we stop pretending our lives are curated, we create space for connection. And connection is one of the most powerful buffers we have against anxiety, depression, and burnout, especially in motherhood.

Turns out, the junk drawer isn’t the problem. Hiding it might be.

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