The Myth of Doing it All: Understanding the Mental Load of Parental Burnout 

Episode Description 

Parenting has never been easy, but today’s parents are carrying more than ever before—and the weight is palpable. In this episode of You Only Know What You Know, hosts Beth Hope, LCSW, and Britt Teasdale sit down with Principal Family Therapist Heather Katz, LCSW, to discuss the difference between feeling overwhelmed and experiencing true parental burnout. From the invisible mental load of managing a household to the pressure of work, finances, and social expectations, they unpack why so many parents are running on empty—and why it’s not a personal failure. 

Beth, Britt, and Heather break down how parental burnout differs from anxiety or depression, including the early emotional, physical, and relational signs to watch for. They also tackle unequal household responsibilities, boundary-setting in a culture that demands more from parents than ever, and how patterns like accommodation can keep family stress cycles going—along with practical strategies to help parents protect their energy and make changes that actually stick. 

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Meet the Guest  

Heather Katz, LCSW 

Heather is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker with over twenty years of experience providing therapeutic services to children, teens, and adults. She supports individuals and families facing a wide range of challenges, including depression, anxiety, and other mood disorders. Heather has developed deep expertise in trauma, PTSD, and relationship-based harm — including teen dating violence and intimate partner abuse. Her work has also included facilitating support groups for both survivors and perpetrators of abuse, working with military service members and their families, and leading trainings on domestic violence and family maltreatment. 

Episode Transcript  

The following transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and readability. 

Britt Teasdale (BT): There’s a version of parenting that many people believe they’re supposed to embody—being everything to everyone. An organized calendar, meaningful family time, a thriving career, healthy meals, school emails and events, relationships, finances. All while remaining emotionally available and holding it all together. 

Reality feels far from that a lot of the time. Our days can feel never-ending, and it’s more than the common saying that parenting is just waiting for bedtime—only to miss your kids once they’re asleep. Because even when everything appears fine from the outside, many parents are carrying a level of stress that’s hard to put into words. Societal pressures and expectations around parenting have shifted into something increasingly unrealistic. 

Beth Hope (BH): Today’s guest understands how the pressure of modern parenting can affect emotional well-being, relationships, and the ability to feel present in everyday life. As a licensed clinical social worker and family therapist, Heather Katz works closely with families navigating stress, overwhelm, and the invisible mental load that so many parents carry every day.  

In this episode, we’ll talk about what parental burnout can look like, why it can be hard to recognize in ourselves, and how parents can begin moving away from survival mode and towards something more sustainable. Heather, we’re so glad you’re here. Tell us a little bit about yourself and the work that you do. 

Heather Katz (HK): Hi, thank you so much for having me! My name is Heather Katz, and I’m a licensed clinical social worker. At Compass, I work as a family therapist, primarily in the trauma program, but also across other adult programs. Over my time here, I’ve also worked in the child, adolescent, and young adult programs—so I’ve really had the chance to dip my toes into just about everything. 

On a personal note, I have two wonderful kids. I have a daughter who’s in fifth grade and a son who’s in eighth grade and about to make the leap to high school. 

BT: Thank you so much for sharing that, Heather—it’s so nice to finally get to talk with you more. Can we start by getting to the bottom of what burnout actually is? What is it, what does it look like, and how do we know if it’s burnout versus stress? And I don’t want to say “just stress,” because stress is plenty significant on its own—but what’s the difference between the two? 

HK: That’s a really good question—and I think we so often minimize what we’re actually experiencing, chalking things up to stress without looking closer. So, to be specific: burnout is characterized by emotional and physical exhaustion caused by prolonged stress. If you think of it like a spectrum, stress is on one end, and burnout is beyond that. 

With burnout, you start noticing that exhaustion in a deeper way. But there are other signs too—feeling frustrated with your roles, a sense of detachment, even craving distance from the role of parent or from your kids. That feeling of “I can’t wait until they go to bed” that most parents know well. And then there’s that sense of not feeling fulfilled—not feeling fulfilled in the ways you should be. And that word “should” is important, because burnout often comes with a constant comparison between how we think we’re supposed to feel or perform as a parent and how we actually do. For many parents, that gap then creates shame and guilt. 

It’s also worth noting the physical side—more headaches, stomachaches, feeling physically tired and achy throughout the day. Those symptoms can be easy to dismiss, but they’re worth paying attention to as well. 

BH: I’m so glad you called out that word “should” right from the start, because when I think about this topic, that’s exactly what comes up for me too. And in trying to differentiate between stress and burnout—neither of these are actual DSM clinical terms. We talk about treating depression, OCD, and anxiety, but we don’t really talk about treating stress or burnout. It’s not a technical diagnosis, and yet there is such a meaningful difference. 

We all experience stress throughout our lives—stressful things happen; that’s just the world. In some ways, we’re almost meant to experience stress; it’s a normal part of being human. How we respond to it can be healthy or unhealthy. But in my mind—and tell me if I’m wrong—burnout feels different. It’s not “I’m dealing with so much and having a hard time handling it.” It’s emptiness. It’s numbness. It’s “I’m done; I’m not functioning.” Does that resonate? 

HK: A definition I came across that really resonated with me is that burnout is the absence of resources to cope—an imbalance between stress and the resources available to manage it. So recognizing it becomes a matter of saying, “I’m overtaxed, and I’m not using, finding, or asking for the resources I need.” 

 I sometimes talk about it with clients as an alarm bell or a red flag—something to watch for and pay attention to. When you notice it, that’s the moment to start asking: what resources am I lacking? What am I dismissing or not asking for? We’ll get into that more later, but I think burnout can really serve as that indicator that says, “I need some help here.” 

BT: Are more parents feeling burned out now than in previous generations? Do we have a sense of what that current climate looks like? 

HK: From what I found, estimates run around 48% of parents experiencing burnout—I believe that comes from a National Institutes of Health study, though there are several studies out there. Interestingly, parental burnout as a concept has actually been studied since the 1980s. That said, I think most parents would recognize that the COVID-19 pandemic had a profound impact, and there does seem to be something distinctly different about what modern parents are navigating today. 

BT: When I was preparing for this conversation and thinking about burnout in my own life—moments when I’ve felt really stressed or think I may have actually been burned out—I kept coming back to the pandemic. I became a parent during the pandemic, so it’s hard for me to separate the two. But I can really feel a shift in my ability to cope with stress before versus after that time. It’s interesting to hear that so many parents share that sense that something changed during those years. 

HK: One thing that was a helpful reframe for me—and that others might resonate with—is that the term “burnout” was originally used almost exclusively for people in helping professions. How many of us have talked about a burned-out teacher, a burned-out social worker—and I can say that because I am one—or a burned-out nurse? It was a word we reserved for people in incredibly difficult, taxing, and often under-resourced roles. 

When you look at it that way, it makes a lot of sense that we’d apply it to parenting. Being a parent is a 24/7 job that is physically and emotionally demanding, and depending on your situation, you may have very few resources to draw on. I think recognizing that can be a doorway to self-compassion—acknowledging that there is something genuinely unique and genuinely hard about the job of being a parent. 

BH: It feels like the list of things parents are expected to provide—physically, emotionally, everything—just keeps growing. And what that means is that the parent’s own needs keep sliding further and further down the priority list. You can’t pour from an empty cup. Everyone plugs into the parent, and the parent is depleted. If we keep adding to what parents feel they need to do—or actually do need to do—for their kids and their families, this state of exhaustion starts to feel like the new norm. And it’s not sustainable. 

HK: Absolutely. There are so many things that make parenting today different and complex. And I want to acknowledge that some of what we’re talking about is also wrapped up in privilege and entitlement. Speaking for myself—living where I live, being a white parent in a community with a lot of resources—there’s a degree of entitlement baked into my version of “shoulds.”  

The pressure to prepare my kid for college, for example, seems to start earlier and earlier. In my neighborhood and school community, there’s this sense that it’s never too soon to get kids into the right sports, the right enrichments, the right activities—and then a tutor, a college advisor, someone to help with applications. So many choices, and this feeling that all of it needs to be done just right. 

At the same time, I want to acknowledge that for parents coming from very different circumstances—where resources are scarce, where the school system isn’t a support, where the starting point looks completely different—that adds a whole other layer to that imbalance of stress and resources. I just want to name that as I bring my own perspective to this conversation. 

BH: I’m physically having a reaction just hearing you name all of those things. And what it brings up for me—something I think applies to all parents regardless of circumstance—is that it’s not just logistics. The tutors, the rides, the finances, the scheduling, the supplies. It’s also the anxiety underneath all of it: if I don’t do this, what will that mean for my child? And then, what if I do all of it and it’s still not enough? The emotional weight of that—the anxiety, the guilt, the pressure around things that maybe weren’t even considered necessities before, or that are starting younger and younger—is what makes the stress, the burnout, the depletion feel so exponentially heavier. 

HK: I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had this conversation with parents—and had this thought myself. If my kids weren’t in all these activities and enrichments, they’d just be on their screens. So, in some ways, we’re driving ourselves into the ground to avoid that. And there’s real value in keeping kids engaged, but it’s worth noticing the bind we’re in. 

Growing up in the ’80s—and I’m aging myself here—I was outside, or my parents were maybe worried I was watching too much TV, which meant choosing from about six channels. The landscape for kids today is just so different, and that changes the calculus for parents in ways that feel almost impossible to keep up with. 

I know I’m probably overcommitting, and I’m saying “yes” to too much. But at the same time, if I don’t, I feel like my kid just gets pulled into the screen void. And that creates its own impossible situation—even if you want to carve out ten minutes for yourself, you’re faced with: am I okay with them being on a screen for those ten minutes so I can take a break? That’s a real question parents are sitting with. 

BH: I want to say that’s a false choice—that it’s not actually either highly structured, intense activities or a screen. I want to say kids can just go outside like we did, ride bikes, do an art project, and entertain themselves. But if screens are increasingly what everyone defaults to, and unstructured outdoor time is less the norm, then that false choice starts to become reality. And that’s a hard thing to push back against on your own. 

HK: As a parent, you have to remind yourself: I can let my kid be bored. I can let them be mad at me—and that’s okay. But I do think that’s one of the real differences in modern parenthood. There’s also the immediacy that technology has created. Everything is expected to be known, found, or done right away. That speeds up the pace for all of us, and it shapes what kids expect too. If your child forgot to tell you they need something until the night before, there’s often an assumption that you can just go get it or order it—and it’ll be there. That kind of instant resolution raises the speed at which everyone is operating, and it adds yet another layer to the pressure parents are feeling. 

BT: It brings to mind those memes that circulate on social media—I’m sure you’ve both seen them—where it’s “being a mom in the ’80s or ’90s” versus “being a mom now.” The ’80s mom is just relaxed, sitting back, kids playing outside. The modern mom is completely overwhelmed by everything. 

BH: Like that old TV commercial—”It’s 10 o’clock. Do you know where your children are?” Nobody today doesn’t know where their kids are. They’re tracked. 

BT: Are we—and I mean the collective we, parents—doing this to ourselves? Are we giving in to this fast-moving machine when maybe we should be resisting it a little more? Is that even possible?  

My kids are still really young—my eldest just started kindergarten—so I’m not yet in the thick of homework and academic pressure. I feel it more from the early years side, where the physical demands are so constant. I’m genuinely curious: do you both think it’s possible for parents to push back against this cycle, or does the world we live in make that nearly impossible? 

HK: I think it can feel impossible—but I do think it’s possible. And I’m sure there are people listening who have figured out how to opt out of certain things, and if so, good for you. I think it looks different for every family. If your child has special needs, if they thrive with structure and activity, or if they actually need a slower, quieter pace—all of that changes the equation. So I think parents need to be aware of the choices they’re making, stay mindful of the pressures and the “shoulds,” and figure out what they can and need to opt out of. I also think we can do better as a community—encouraging each other, watching our own judgments, because that pressure isn’t just coming from institutions. Sometimes it’s coming from each other.  

BH: Do you have any suggestions? The way we’ve been talking about this—and from conversations I’ve had with friends and colleagues—everyone who’s a parent knows exactly what we’re describing. But full burnout is an extreme. It’s the shutting down, the not functioning, the total depletion. We don’t go from zero to sixty overnight—it creeps up on us as things get added, circumstances shift, and external pressures pile on.  

How do we intervene, or better yet, be proactive before we get there? Part of it, I think, is what you already mentioned—knowing each child, what they need, what their limits are. But how do we start noticing that things are becoming unmanageable, that we’re not feeling like ourselves, before we hit the wall of “I can’t do this anymore”? 

HK: I think the first step is simply developing the ability to notice where you are—to check in with yourself and observe what’s actually going on. We call it “self as observer”: what am I feeling? What am I noticing? Why am I this exhausted? Why do I feel detached from myself or from the things that used to feel fulfilling? Taking that pause is foundational. 

Sometimes that awareness can also come from the people around us—a partner, a co-parent, someone who notices before we do. And from there, it’s about starting to ask the harder questions: what in my environment is pushing me toward burnout? What’s on my plate? What feels out of my control? Are there things I can pull back on, or places where I need help? That can be an important pivot point—whether it’s talking to a therapist, a family counselor, or even a primary care doctor. Starting to pull things apart with some support can make a real difference. 

BT: How much does the actual physical experience of having a baby—the hormonal and physiological changes that follow birth—play into burnout? Our bodies can feel depleted for a long time after having a child. How should we be thinking about both the emotional and mental health aspects of burnout, but also the physical elements that can contribute to it? 

HK: That’s such an important question, Britt, because I think a lot of our conversation so far has centered on parenting older kids—but the postpartum period is its own significant piece of this. Postpartum anxiety, postpartum depression, the hormonal and physical changes, the sleep deprivation, the shift in identity and roles, the impact on relationships—all of it can contribute. We’re still learning so much about those experiences, including how postpartum anxiety differs from postpartum depression as its own distinct condition.  

And for some parents, stepping back from work or adjusting their schedule adds another layer—a sense of isolation or loss of structure that can feed into loneliness and depletion. All of that is really important to name for anyone in that early stage of parenthood where so much is still new and changing. 

BT: Right—there’s the physical recovery, the sleep deprivation, the identity shift, maybe having to return to work before you feel ready emotionally or physically. And that can perpetuate the cycle. So how do we distinguish between what’s a typical—or at least expected—response to those physiological changes versus actual burnout? And is burnout something a person can work their way out of on their own, or does it usually require some outside support? 

HK: Those are really good questions, and I want to start by saying: it’s completely normal and expected that all parents will have moments of extreme stress, of feeling some of the symptoms we’ve been describing—overwhelmed, sad, quicker to lose patience. That’s part of parenting, and I want to make sure we hold some grace for that. Parental burnout is when we take a step beyond that—when the emotional and physical exhaustion becomes more pervasive, when you start to feel a little more distant or detached, when the sense of engagement or enjoyment starts to fade, when fulfillment in parenting feels out of reach. And as Beth said, this isn’t a clinical diagnosis the way depression or anxiety are, where we’re looking for a specific number of symptoms over a defined period of time. It’s more about recognizing when what you’re experiencing feels like more than the day-to-day stress that every parent moves through. 

BT: I’ve read that one way to think about it is this: if you’re experiencing burnout and you have the resources and support to temporarily pull back some of the things that are overwhelming you, those symptoms should start to lift. Whereas with a clinical diagnosis—depression, anxiety, a mood disorder—removing those stressors alone won’t necessarily move the needle in the same way. Does that track? 

HK: Yes, that’s a helpful way to think about the distinction between parental burnout and something like clinical anxiety or depression—where, with a clinical condition, the symptoms persist over time, and environmental changes alone don’t necessarily shift that internal experience. And what you’re describing leads naturally into the coping and strategy piece I know we’ll get into.  

On the question of whether professional help is needed: with parental burnout, building up your resources, developing new skills, and leaning into support are all really valuable first steps. And if someone finds they’d benefit from more, talking to a therapist or a doctor is a great way to think about longer-term maintenance—how to address this in a way that actually feels sustainable. 

BT: It’s like getting to know yourself again after having a child—figuring out what fills your cup now, so you can show up feeling good for your family and the other parts of your life. And that shifts depending on what stage you’re in. What you needed before kids changes after you have them, and it keeps evolving as they grow.  

So Heather, can you help us think through how to talk to our partners about this? How do you communicate “I need this now, and it might look different than what I needed before”—and have those conversations in a way that actually lands, so the people who love you can show up for you in the ways you need? 

HK: Let’s think about what’s actually effective here—because sometimes what feels good in the moment is to unload on your partner and say exactly what you think of them. You might feel better temporarily, but effective is a different standard. 

One of the most important things is to lead with your own internal experience—your feelings. This is where the classic “I statements” really matter, and some listeners may already be familiar with this. Instead of pointing fingers, you’re sharing: I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m not feeling like myself. I feel like I have no patience left and nothing left to give. That kind of language opens a door rather than putting someone on the defensive. It’s not the moment to bring up the dishes or the laundry—those conversations can happen, but not here. 

From there, practice asking for what you actually need. I need five minutes when I walk through the door to decompress. I need us to figure out a better plan for Thursdays. I need help figuring out what I can take off my plate. Be specific, lead with your experience, and then make the ask—knowing that your partner may not immediately say yes, and that’s okay. Sometimes the goal of that conversation isn’t to problem-solve right away. Sometimes it’s just to be heard. 

For anyone on the receiving end of that conversation: your job is to listen, really listen, and validate what you’re hearing. I can tell this is really hard. I know you’re struggling. You’re doing a great job. Encouragement goes a long way. And it can help to simply ask: do you want to vent right now, or do you want to brainstorm solutions? Do you need a hug? Do you need me to take over for a few minutes so you can step away? Just asking that question can make someone feel less alone in it. 

BH: What you just said about asking for what you need—that’s exactly where my mind went too. And it’s really hard, especially when we’re on autopilot, moving through our schedules on that hamster wheel, crossing things off the list. We make assumptions. And I don’t think this is just about partners or spouses or dads—I think everyone is doing the same thing, operating on assumptions about what the other person is or isn’t noticing. When we actually have those conversations, they often lead to a real understanding of each other’s experience. And yes, sometimes that means sacrifice, sometimes it means taking things off the list, sometimes it means figuring out who’s going to give something up. But we are not mind readers. We have to make time for those conversations even when it feels impossible. 

And I think this is also where some of the things we tend to view negatively—structured activities, social media, even screen time—can have silver linings. What those things can create, at their best, is community and shared experience. When you were talking about being a newer parent, Britt, I immediately thought of the moms I met through daycare and preschool during that season of my life. Not everyone is going to be your people, but you find them. You create a carpool chat out of necessity and then it becomes a place where someone can say, I’m having a really hard week, I can’t pull my weight right now—can someone lean in? And someone does. It doesn’t have to be a perfectly even 50-50 divide. When people are in relationship with each other, they want to help, and everyone goes through the hard seasons at different times. 

That community also becomes a sounding board—a place to ask, is it just me, or is everyone feeling this way? Or to check in with yourself: Have I taken on too much? Have I lost every part of myself except “parent”? Where did the version of me go that had other things, other interests, other relationships? It’s a lot. And the moments that remind you of that can catch you completely off guard. At our Passover Seder this year, my daughter said out of nowhere, “I only have three of these left.” And I just burst into tears. 

BT: I love what you said about the 50-50, Beth—and the idea of, “Can you pull a little more this week?” It connects to something we’ve talked about in other episodes: expectations and communication. How do we get clearer about what we need, and how do we hold more realistic expectations—for ourselves, our kids, our partners? Maybe it’s not 50-50 every day. Maybe it’s saying, I’m running at about 20% today, can you fill the gap? Or noticing your partner is struggling and stepping up before they have to ask. That kind of communication can make a real difference in partnerships and friendships alike. 

HK: I think one of the first and most important strategies is simply talking about it—telling people how you’re feeling, whether that’s friends, other parents, people in your community who get it. If you’re feeling this way and think you’re the only one, finding other parents to talk to—whether they’re navigating kids with similar struggles, parenting kids with disabilities, or just in the thick of it like you are—can be really powerful. It reinforces that this is something parents can and do experience, and it takes some of the judgment out of it. This doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent. It means you’re human, doing the best you can with what you have. That sense of village and community really matters. 

BH: Absolutely—and there’s a flip side to that too. Just because so many people in our community are feeling this way doesn’t mean we should all just buckle up and push through together. We can’t normalize burnout to the point where it becomes something we just accept. With more and more being piled on, we have to be able to say—ideally before we’ve hit the wall—I’m reaching my threshold. That looks different for everyone, but it means giving yourself permission to make changes and ask for help. Because if we don’t, we’re looking at anxiety, depression, physical health issues down the road.  

Let’s talk about what that actually looks like in practice—how do we notice we’re getting there, and what do we do about it? What do you recommend to your clients, your families, even your friends, when they start feeling like they can’t do this anymore? 

HK: One of the first things I’d suggest is starting to notice the word should. How often are you doing things because you think you should? That word can be a signal to pause and ask: do I actually need to do this? Do I need to say yes to this tenth thing tonight? And it goes beyond logistics—as a mom, I should feel this way. As a parent, I should be doing this. Just noticing when that word shows up and gently questioning it can be really powerful. 

From there, it’s about reevaluation. Can I say no to certain things? Can I ask someone else to take this on? Can my partner handle this? Can it just not get done? I want to acknowledge that for some people, depending on their resources and their child’s needs, that reevaluation has real limits—but where you can, it’s worth asking. And alongside that, can you reframe any of it? This is the best I can do today. This is going to be a hard day and we’re going to get through it together. The way we think about things has a genuine impact on our mood and our experience. 

Then there are the small changes. Even tiny ones matter. I came across the idea of micro breaks, and I loved it—because when I ask parents what they’re doing for self-care, they often laugh at me. But I mean it. A micro break might be five extra minutes in the bathroom, a few minutes in the car between drop-off and the next thing, a podcast on the drive home, or a short guided meditation on your phone. If that’s all you’ve got, those small moments of refilling your cup genuinely add up. 

And then there’s self-care more broadly. At Compass, we talk about SEEDS—Sleep; Eating; Exercise or movement; Doctor’s orders, like keeping up with medications and appointments; and then that last S, which is Sobriety or being mindful about substance use. It’s worth asking honestly: is alcohol or another substance becoming my primary coping strategy? Would cutting back actually help my sleep, my stress, my overall state? And for some people, that last piece is about social connection—making time for the people they care about, because that often gets sacrificed first. 

BT: Can you share some real, practical skills we can use in those moments when our nervous system feels like it’s on fire? What can we actually do to calm ourselves down? 

HK: I’m so glad you’re bringing up the nervous system, because it’s such a key piece of this. For anyone who’s new to this idea: when you’re experiencing parental burnout, your body is essentially in a constant or near-constant state of survival mode. It’s hyper-aroused, in “I have to get it all done” mode. The brain activates accordingly; your chemical load shifts—and over time, that takes a real toll. So, noticing the impact on your body matters. 

One of the first things I suggest is simply paying attention to what is happening inside. I’ll often do a little shake of my shoulders and neck, because that’s where I hold my stress. Where is the tension in your body? Where do you feel it? From there, deep breathing is one of the most powerful tools we have—and the exhale is actually the key. You want the exhale to be roughly twice as long as the inhale. So breathe in for four counts, out for eight, whatever works for you. You can also try square breathing or triangle breathing—where you trace the shape in your mind, breathing in on one side, holding, exhaling, holding again. These are techniques you can even do with your kids. Okay, let’s take a triangle breath together. It can be a reset for everyone. 

Movement helps too—slow stretches, rolling your head, shaking out your arms and legs. Anything that releases the physical tension that stress builds up in your muscles. 

And then there’s the five senses grounding exercise: name five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can touch, two you can smell, one you can taste. Or when you finally get a moment at your kid’s soccer game, just pause for a second. Notice the sky, the breeze, and the sound of the kids. Those little moments of presence can act as a mini reset—and those small things, strung together, do add up. 

BT: Those are so helpful—I’m going to be using all of them. And I want to add something that’s been on my mind: it’s okay to need a break. You can love being a parent and also desperately need a break. You can love your kids deeply and also feel completely overwhelmed, like your nervous system just can’t take another thing. Those things can be true at the same time. I think it’s really important for parents to hear that. 

BH: My watch literally just told me to breathe and stand up—which probably says something about microbreaks. But the fact that I need my watch to remind me is telling. 

I think it’s also important to zoom out. And I say this with no disrespect to my own wonderful children, but: in the moment, we’re thinking about right now and the next thing, and we completely lose perspective. Most of our kids are not going to be professional athletes or get into Harvard or dance with the Joffrey Ballet. And yet we treat every decision like it carries that kind of weight. These activities aren’t unimportant—they build character, community, so much. But sometimes we need to ask ourselves: years from now, what is actually going to matter? Because sometimes it’s just not that serious, even when it feels incredibly serious. 

We talk about this in a lot of our episodes—parenting anxiety, this feeling that if I say the wrong thing or miss one practice or don’t sign up for that thing, I have somehow derailed my child’s future. And the reality is that’s just not true. So much is outside our control, and a lot of what feels urgent really isn’t. We teach kids in our groups to “right-size the problem”—to look at something upsetting and ask, on the full spectrum of serious things. I think adults need to do that too.  

BT: Such a good point—and I think when you’re stressed or burned out, that perspective is exactly what goes first. Everything feels urgent and critical. So yes, say it louder: not everything has to be this serious. We don’t have to take ourselves, or every little thing our kids do, so seriously. They’re probably going to be just fine if they miss that Wednesday night lesson. 

BH: And that perspective is what allows us to recognize when something actually is serious—because sometimes the pressure does lead somewhere real. True burnout, depression, anxiety—those are serious, and they can sneak up on you. So right-sizing isn’t about dismissing things; it’s a proactive strategy.  

And one thing that helps me is asking: what would I say to my best friend if she were telling me all of this? Because we tend to extend so much more compassion and logic to the people we love than we do to ourselves. If your best friend was spiraling about this one thing, what would you tell her? Now say that to yourself. 

HK: That’s such a good example of self-compassion in practice—noticing how hard you are on yourself and finding that gentler voice that says, I’m doing the best I can. I don’t have to do it all perfectly. 

BH: I do want to acknowledge the flip side of all of this, though. We’ve been talking a lot about burnout from the increased load of modern parenting, but many parents are also navigating their own mental health challenges, or very real circumstances they didn’t choose—things their kids are going through, things their partners are going through, financial stress, health issues. Situations where there genuinely aren’t a lot of choices. For those parents, microbreaks and mindset shifts are still valuable, but they’re not enough. What do you say to those families in therapy? 

HK: That’s exactly where outside support becomes really important. Having a therapist, couples’ counselor, or family therapist who can help think through what can realistically be adjusted and what needs to be added. And sometimes what brings someone into therapy looking like parental burnout turns out to be something deeper that’s been waiting—unaddressed grief, challenges from their own childhood, experiences of trauma or loss that they thought they’d put behind them. I hear it often: I thought I was doing okay. I thought that stuff was behind me. And then I just couldn’t keep pushing it down anymore. 

We are, in so many ways, products of how we were parented—what we were shown, what we were taught, what we carry. And for some people, the weight of parenting their own kids brings all of that to the surface in ways that deserve real attention and real support. 

BT: How do we shift our perspective as parents from “I just need to push through and get to the other side” to a more sustainable mindset? 

HK: Something I find myself saying to people in therapy a lot is: you don’t have to. You don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to just white-knuckle your way through it. Let’s talk about what could be different. What feels like it’s missing? And really coming back to self-compassion—of course you’re struggling with this. It makes complete sense that you would be. That doesn’t make you a bad parent. Let’s figure out what would give you more resources and help you feel more like yourself. 

BT: We covered so much today—thank you so much, Heather, for your expertise and your openness. Is there anything you’d like to leave parents with who are struggling with what they think might be burnout, or know is burnout? 

HK: I feel like I’ve said it a few times already, but I’ll say it again: self-compassion. Give yourself some grace. Stop for a moment and ask, what am I feeling? What do I need? What can I actually do right now? I hope what comes through in this conversation is that you are not alone in this. Other parents are struggling with it. Therapists who are also parents struggle with it. All of us are trying to navigate the incredible complexity of parenting and doing the best we can. 

BT: Experiencing burnout doesn’t mean you’re failing as a parent. It means you’ve been caring deeply for a long time. And so many parents are carrying more than anyone can see from the outside. 

BH: Modern parenting can feel relentless—the schedules, the pressures, the comparisons, the feeling that every decision carries enormous weight. But you don’t have to do everything perfectly to be a great parent. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do is pause, ask for help, or let something go. 

BT: We loved the reminder that small things count. A five-minute break. A deep breath before reacting. Reaching out to someone you trust and saying, hey, I need help. 

BH: And maybe most importantly—try to give yourself the same compassion you would give someone you love. Parenting is hard, and we were never meant to do all of it alone.