The confession Turia Pitt hid for months.

If you want to support independent women's media, become a Mamamia subscriber . Get an all-access pass to everything we make, including exclusive podcasts, articles, videos and our exercise app, MOVE.

For more than a decade, Australians have looked at Turia Pitt and seen grit, strength, and resilience.

She's the woman who survived an unimaginable grassfire while running an ultramarathon, and rebuilt her life from the ashes. She has gone on to become a bestselling author, humanitarian, athlete, speaker, business owner and mother of two young boys.

But in a conversation on Mamamia's No Filter, Turia reveals something she hid for months: behind the scenes, she was falling apart — quietly, slowly, and completely.

Listen to No Filter: The Confession Turia Pitt Hid For Months. Post continues below.

It started with a sense she couldn't quite articulate. A feeling that a storm was coming. Despite the fact, life looked good on paper.

She had a partner she adored, two kids and work she loved.

Yet she noticed she was moving through her days stressed, overwhelmed, and increasingly angry. She brushed it off. She told herself she'd lived through worse.

"I could sense something, I suppose, like brewing on the horizon," she told No Filter host Kate Langbroek. "I know that sounds quite dramatic, but I could sense something nebulous about to happen."

Then one night, after a long day and in the chaos of dinner and kids and mess, that moment came.

It started after her eldest son, four at the time, requested hot chocolate.

Turia started making it, and they both noticed she had bought the wrong brand.

"He looks at the brand of the hot chocolate that I bought, and he goes, 'that's the wrong one,'" Turia said.

"And because by this time, I'm so stressed, tense, overwhelmed, cranky and snarky. I retort back to him, 'Well, why don't you ask your dad to buy you the brand of hot chocolate that you like?' And quick as a flash, he comes back to me, and he says, 'no, that's your job.'"

That small comment set off a spiral.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Turia (@turiapitt)

"I sat down at the kitchen table, and I remember feeling really sad, and I was drinking wine at the time and I just started like tapping out my thoughts and my feelings and how I felt at the time," she said.

"I was running around like a headless chicken, trying to do everything for everyone else, spending my whole day being a good boss, being a good person, being polite, not rocking the boat, being a good friend, not forgetting birthdays, checking in with my in-laws.

"So I felt like I was doing everything I was that I felt like I was supposed to. But then, if I didn't do one little thing, then all of the things that I did do, weren't noticed or weren't appreciated."

This was the beginning of a slow crumble that Turia, the woman accustomed to shouldering mountains, didn't recognise as burnout.

The clue she couldn't ignore.

The moment that finally scared her didn't come from the outside world. It came from her own handwriting.

Turia had been journalling, something she often does to process stress, and decided to reread what she'd written. She expected reflections, lists, maybe frustrations. Instead, she found something darker.

"I always get complimented on how energetic and vivacious I am," she said. "But the stuff I'd written was really f***ing dark."

In those pages were thoughts she hadn't admitted out loud:

That she felt like she was in the way.

That she felt like an inconvenience.

That she wasn't enough.

These weren't the thoughts of the bright, purposeful woman the world saw. They weren't even reflective of how she behaved day-to-day.

But they were there; honest and unfiltered, the kind of truth that slips out only when you're not trying to impress or perform.

The contrast rattled her.

So she did something radical. She called a girlfriend. Not her partner, Michael, who was working away, not any professional contact. A friend.

And that friend said something simple: go get a mental health care plan.

'I didn't want Michael to worry.'

One of the most confronting parts of Turia's story isn't that she needed help. It's that she convinced herself she wasn't allowed to ask for it.

Michael, her partner of 15 years, was away for long stretches for work. He'd started a new job. He was excited. He was thriving. And Turia didn't want to be the reason he felt distracted or guilty.

So she hid it from him.

"I wanted to pretend that we'd been good," she said. "The boys had been happy, like the house had been running smoothly, work was going good.

"I suppose I wanted to present that to him, so that he wasn't worried about what was happening at home so he could concentrate on his job. In retrospect, that was a f***ing stupid idea."

Michael had started a new job at the time. Image: Instagram/@turiapitt.

She didn't tell him she was burnt out. She didn't tell him she was depressed. She didn't tell him she felt like she was barely keeping it together.

Instead, she told herself she should be able to cope.

That surviving a fire meant normal life shouldn't feel hard.

"I had this idea in my head that I beat in the fire. So like, solo parenting and running a business, not that f***ing hard," she admitted.

It's the part of her story so many women will recognise: the belief that struggling means failing.

Turia eventually booked an appointment with her GP.

She walked into the waiting room, and took a seat.

And then, in one of those absurd moments life loves to stage, she looked up and saw her own bright, smiling face on the cover of her book Happy (& Other Ridiculous Aspirations) on the GP's bookshelf.

"I saw my book on happiness right there, bright yellow cover," she said. "I look really hot. My hair is blowing in the wind machine, and then I had to say, 'hey, you know, and I wrote that book on happiness, but I'm actually here for a mental health care plan.'

"Haven't I been f***ing humbled?"

It punctured the myth she'd built about herself; that she should be immune to ordinary human struggle because she'd endured extraordinary trauma.

"Last year, everything just came undone," she admitted.

The revelation she hopes women hear.

Burnout made Turia rethink everything; boundaries with strangers, the mental load, parenting, the glorification of "selfless" womanhood, and the belief that coping alone is noble.

But the biggest revelation, the one she returns to over and over, is that waiting for someone to notice you're struggling is a trap.

"I'd been waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and be like, 'Hey, Turia, go for a run. You know, go out to lunch with your friends,'" she explained.

"Michael had never, never stopped me from doing any of those activities before. I just felt like I wasn't entitled to it."

The hard truth she learnt is that no one is coming to rescue you. They can't see inside your head, and see the extent you're struggling.

"When I embarked on this selfish journey, I realised I had to stop, waiting for someone to notice, waiting for someone to praise, waiting for someone to say, 'hey, you've worked really hard today. You need a break.'

"I had to, and I had to carve that out for myself."

What life looks like now.

Turia has changed the way she lives. She says no more often. She asks for help. She lets the small stuff slide. She no longer apologises for protecting her mental health.

And she feels better.

She's also more "boring," she jokes. To protect herself, she's become less spontaneous and more cautious.

"Maybe that will change in a few years, but I feel well," she said.

"I feel strong, physically and mentally, which is amazing, after so many years of feeling frazzled and stressed," she said.

And maybe that is the most inspiring part of all: that the woman we all thought was unbreakable finally broke — and has slowly, deliberately, gently pieced herself back together.

Not by being superhuman.

But by finally letting herself be human.

Turia Pitt's new book Selfish is out now.

If you or anyone you know needs to speak with an expert, please contact your GP or in Australia, contact Lifeline (13 11 14), Kids Helpline (1800 55 1800) or Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636), all of which provide trained counsellors you can talk with 24/7.

Feature image: Getty.