The Exhausted Parent's Rebellion: Unconventional Secrets to Reclaiming Your Adult Life Without Abandoning Your Kids
The Exhausted Parent's Rebellion: Reclaiming Your Adult Life Without Abandoning Your Kids
Hey there, exhausted parent. I see you trying to keep it all together, wondering if you'll ever feel like a whole person again instead of just someone's mom or dad. If you're running on fumes, snapping at your kids over tiny things, and feeling like you've completely lost yourself in the endless demands of parenthood—I want you to know something important: you're not failing. You're experiencing burnout, and there's a way back to yourself.
We all have different things that break us. For me, it was throwing every brain cell and atomic unit of patience into being a passable working parent—seriously, I worked so hard for what felt like barely mediocre results—and then it dawning, with horror, "Oh...my God. I will never actually have a vacation or weekend or BREAK again. In fact, weekends are HARDER now than the weeks. Even when you 'go away without the kids' there's so much prep and planning and payment and MORE payment when they decompensate for the next three days because you left..."
"How...[incoherent stammering]...how? How do people do this? What have I gotten myself into? I...can't do this. But I have to. I'm trapped."
I walked into parenting primed for burnout, and maybe you did too. I mean, having twins didn't help the situation (haha…), and neither did not having any paid maternity leave (not one day! All sick time and FMLA! I got pregnant about one week too early to meet the "you have to have been in your job for at least ten months" criteria for Temporary Disability Insurance in Rhode Island).
But maybe I wouldn't have hit a parenting and life overwhelm/burnout wall if I had the tools to find joy amid the needs-onslaught. And if you're a parent of older kids, or a caregiver to anyone, this all still applies and it's never too late. Really, ever.
This isn't just another "try harder" pep talk or a list of self-care strategies you don't have time for. This is a rebellion—a radical reimagining of what parenthood can look like when we stop trying to do it all and start reclaiming our adult identities without the guilt trip.
The Truth About Parental Burnout That No One Talks About
Parental burnout isn't just being tired. It's that bone-deep exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix. It's feeling emotionally bankrupt, physically drained, and wondering if you'll ever feel like yourself again. Unlike the occasional "I need a break" day, burnout sticks around, affecting everything from your patience level to your joy in parenting.
Think about the last time you lost it over something small—maybe your child spilled milk for the third time that day or asked the same question for the fifteenth time in an hour. In that moment, it wasn't really about the milk or the question. It was about weeks, months, or even years of giving from an empty cup. It was your body and mind screaming, "I have nothing left to give!"
Here's what I need you to hear right now: This is not your fault, it really is f'ing unfair, it really is too f'ing hard, and you really can get to a better place without pressure, guilt, or fleeing the country (probably).
The Impossible Standards of Modern Parenting
We're trying to raise tiny humans in a society that:
Offers Instagram-perfect parenting standards but zero practical support
Expects us to "do it all" while making it look effortless
Provides less community support than any generation before us
Creates work cultures that pretend parenting doesn't exist (the Netherlands gives 3 days off per parent every time a child starts a new daycare!!!)
Sends the message that asking for help means you're failing
And let's be real about the structural problems:
The U.S. is one of the only developed nations without guaranteed paid parental leave
Childcare costs more than college tuition in many states
Housing costs and changing norms force families to live far from extended family support
Long work hours and commutes leave little time for family connection
The expectation of constant availability for work undermines family time
Most neighborhoods aren't designed for community connection or children's independence
We're not just tired parents—we're parents trying to do an impossible job in systems designed to make us fail.
The mental load falls disproportionately on mothers, creating an invisible burden that's rarely acknowledged. The "default parent" phenomenon is real—it's the assumption that one parent (typically Mom) will automatically handle everything from scheduling doctor appointments to remembering Grandma's birthday to knowing where the winter boots are stored.
As Lucy Jones brilliantly points out in her book "Matrescence," becoming a mother is a transformation as profound as adolescence—but without anyone acknowledging how earth-shattering it is. We're expected to just... carry on. Like creating and raising a human while restructuring our entire identity is no big deal. And then we wonder why we're burnt out?
The Real Reason You Feel Trapped: It's Not What You Think
Here's where things get interesting: the root of parental burnout often isn't about external circumstances alone. It's about our relationship with our own emotions.
When I became a parent, I survived on hyper-independence, co-dependence, conflict avoidance, not a boundary in sight, people-pleasing, external validation, addiction to my own savior complex, an identity anchored to being everyone's safe place, fawning, repression, dissociation, not a goddamn clue what any of my needs or feelings were—and caffeine, adrenaline, cortisol, and control.
That repression? That full sublimation of anger, shame, guilt? I was so good at it, pushed everything down so fast and so deep that I was wholly unaware, until my own negative behaviors came right back at me. The biggest clue was doing exactly what I said I wouldn't. My words did not match my actions, because I was saying things I didn't actually believe. It wasn't lying, exactly. It wasn't forgetfulness, exactly. It was self-sabotage though, in the best sense—the truth coming out through the cracks in the pavement.
In my work with parents, I've seen a pattern so consistent it can't be ignored: the parents who struggle most with burnout are often those who have the hardest time feeling their own emotions fully.
Think about it—how comfortable are you with feeling your own anger, grief, resentment, or even boredom? Most of us were raised to push these emotions down, especially the "negative" ones. We learn early that certain feelings aren't acceptable. Then we become parents and suddenly we're faced with tiny humans who have ALL THE FEELINGS, ALL THE TIME, AT MAXIMUM VOLUME.
As Joe Hudson explores in the Art of Accomplishment podcast "Feel over Figure," our emotions are far more central to our decision-making and wellbeing than we realize. Research shows that people who lose the emotional centers of their brains can't make even simple decisions—despite maintaining their intellectual capacity. In other words, we need our emotions to function, yet we spend enormous energy trying to suppress them.
This creates a perfect formula for burnout:
We suppress our natural emotional responses to the stress of parenting
Those unprocessed emotions build up as tension in our bodies
We use more energy trying to keep those emotions contained
We have less energy available for actually parenting
The cycle continues and intensifies until we crash
The emotions we refuse to feel don't disappear—they go underground, emerging in unexpected ways that often make our lives harder, not easier.
The Secret Connection Between Unexpressed Emotions and Parental Burnout
Let's get specific about how unexpressed emotions lead to burnout:
Unexpressed Grief: Becoming a parent involves countless small and large losses—loss of freedom, loss of your pre-parent identity, loss of sleep, loss of spontaneity, sometimes loss of career advancement or creative pursuits. Yet we rarely give ourselves permission to grieve these losses because "I should be grateful" or "I chose this." Unprocessed grief doesn't "get better with time"—it becomes depression and depletion.
Unexpressed Anger: Parenting involves constant boundary violations—from the toddler who won't let you pee alone to the in-law who undermines your parenting decisions. When we don't allow ourselves to feel and express appropriate anger, it eventually explodes as rage or turns inward as self-hatred.
Unexpressed Resentment: The unequal distribution of parenting labor creates genuine resentment, especially in heterosexual relationships where mothers typically carry more of the invisible load. When we push this down because "at least my partner helps sometimes" or "other parents have it worse," that unexpressed resentment corrodes relationships and drains our energy.
Unexpressed Boredom/Restlessness: Parts of parenting are mind-numbingly boring and repetitive. When we can't acknowledge that boredom (because "I should cherish every moment"), we disconnect from the present and miss the parts that are actually wonderful.
These unexpressed emotions don't just disappear—they require energy to suppress. It's like trying to hold a beach ball underwater; eventually, your arms get too tired, and it explodes to the surface with much more force than if you'd just let it float in the first place.
The Burnout-Rage Cycle: Why You Keep Exploding (And How to Stop)
Let's talk about parental rage—those moments when you find yourself yelling at a volume you didn't know you possessed because someone spilled their milk. Again.
That rage isn't because you're a terrible parent. It's your body's alarm system going off because your needs have been ignored for too long. It's a signal, not a character flaw.
Here's what's actually happening in your brain and body: When you're chronically stressed, your amygdala (the brain's alarm system) becomes hyperactive while your prefrontal cortex (the rational thinking center) becomes less effective. This means you're physiologically primed to react with fight-or-flight responses to even minor stressors. Add in sleep deprivation, which most parents experience chronically, and you've got a recipe for emotional dysregulation.
I experienced this firsthand. In my darkest moments of burnout, I would find myself lying awake planning the next week of meals and restrictions and calorie hacks and extreme workouts, all while my twins were finally sleeping. Sleep, as you can imagine, wasn't a strength at this point.
There were other signs too: maniacal and sudden stubbornness (the thing about me, as an Enneagram 9, is I will go with the flow 95% of the time, and the other 5%, I am the flow and your flow stops here). A kind of cognitive fog and forgetfulness that went beyond even the deluge of hormone changes and new brain demands of early parenthood and scared the shit out of me, made me a frequent flyer in my PCP's office, and gave me a case of "MRI-seeking behavior" (just one scan, please, just to check).
Most of us, especially mothers, were taught that parental anger is unacceptable. Good moms are always patient, right? (Insert eye roll here.) And we've all noticed those societal double standards—when dads get frustrated, they're "setting boundaries," but when moms express the same emotions, they're "out of control" or "too emotional."
It might sound like this: A mom takes her toddler to the grocery store. Her child is having a meltdown, and she feels everyone's eyes on her, judging her parenting. Her husband has the exact same experience the following week, but instead of judgment, he receives sympathetic smiles and offers of help. Same child, same behavior, completely different social response.
So we stuff it down. We push it away. We try harder to be perfect. And then—boom—we explode, usually over something objectively small. Then the shame cycle kicks in:
Feel overwhelmed by the never-ending demands
Push down your frustration (because "good parents don't get angry")
Hit your breaking point and rage
Marinate in guilt and shame afterward
Vow to try harder and be more patient
Set yourself up for an even bigger explosion later
Repeat, repeat, repeat
But here's the rebellious truth: What if you stopped fighting your anger? What if, instead of seeing it as something to overcome, you recognized it as valuable information?
Anger is often a signal that a boundary has been crossed or a need is going unmet. When we learn to listen to our anger instead of suppressing it, we can address the actual problem before we reach explosion point.
This doesn't mean unleashing your rage on your kids. It means feeling the anger in your body, getting curious about what it's telling you, and taking appropriate action based on that information—often by setting boundaries or expressing needs that you've been ignoring.
The "How Burnt Out Am I?" Quiz: Know Where You Stand
Take a quick temperature check. Rate each statement from 0 (not me at all) to 5 (extremely me):
By the end of most days, I feel emotionally wiped out.
I snap at my kids over little things I used to handle easily.
Simple tasks now feel like climbing mountains.
I fantasize about running away or having a completely different life.
My brain feels foggy, and I'm constantly forgetting things.
Even when I'm with my kids, I feel disconnected or checked out.
My body is sending SOS signals (headaches, stomach issues, constant exhaustion).
Activities I used to enjoy just feel like more items on my to-do list.
Minor parenting challenges feel catastrophic.
I'm going through the motions of parenting without really being present.
Scoring:
0-15: You're experiencing normal parenting stress with some decent coping strategies
16-30: You're in the early stages of burnout and need to prioritize self-care ASAP
31-45: You're significantly burnt out and need support and intervention
46-50: You're in critical burnout territory and should consider professional help
Neurodiverse Parents: When Burnout Hits Different
For parents with neurodivergent traits (ADHD, autism, sensory processing differences), burnout often arrives faster, hits harder, and hangs around longer. Not because you're less capable—but because your nervous system processes things differently in a world that wasn't designed for you.
No surprise that the most common time women are diagnosed with ADHD is after they become a parent. Maybe it's ADHD. Maybe it's utterly unrealistic expectations of functioning in this world while perfectly nurturing fragile beings and being The Best at Everything Else Too. Maybe it's unresolved trauma. Maybe it's all of that. But it's at least SOME of that.
Let's talk about modern parenting's perfect storm for neurodivergent parents:
The Executive Function Olympics
Modern parenting is essentially an extreme sport for your executive functioning skills:
Scheduling and coordinating multiple family members' activities
Remembering dozens of details from medication timing to permission slips
Task-switching between work, childcare, household management, and self-care
Planning meals, managing budgets, and maintaining household inventory
Keeping track of developmental milestones and pediatric recommendations
For neurotypical parents, this is challenging. For neurodivergent parents, particularly those with ADHD or executive function differences, it can be nearly impossible. Your brain might excel at creative problem-solving, big-picture thinking, or deep focus on interests—but struggle with the precise time management and detail juggling that modern parenting demands.
It might look like this: An ADHD mom can hyperfocus on building an amazing sensory activity for her child, then completely forget to schedule their dentist appointment for six months straight. Society judges her on the appointment, not the connection.
The Sensory Overload Pressure Cooker
Our isolated nuclear family model leaves neurodivergent parents alone with their children for long stretches—often in small living spaces filled with sensory triggers:
Constant noise (from children, toys, media, appliances)
Visual clutter of toys, art supplies, and household items
Physical touch demands from children who need holding, wiping, dressing
Unpredictable movements and sudden loud outbursts
Competing conversation demands and interruptions
Strong smells from diapers, food preparation, cleaning products
With few breaks and limited support, your sensory system never gets the recovery time it needs. Add in the societal expectation that "good moms" should be unfazed by chaos, and you have a recipe for perpetual overwhelm.
The Genetic Comedy: Divergently Divergent
Here's where things get almost comically challenging: neurodivergent parents often have neurodivergent children—but they may be neurodivergent in entirely different ways. This creates fascinating but exhausting mismatches:
You might be hypersensitive to noise while your child seeks auditory stimulation by making constant sounds
Your need for predictable routines might clash with your child's spontaneous, novelty-seeking nature
Your social anxiety might make it difficult to facilitate the intense social calendar your extroverted child craves
Your sensory aversions to certain textures might make it challenging to prepare foods your sensory-seeking child will eat
Your difficulty with transitions might conflict with your child's need for frequent environmental changes
It might look like this: An autistic mother and her son are both neurodivergent, but in opposite ways. She needs quiet and routine; he needs constant stimulation and change. They're like puzzle pieces from different boxes trying to fit together.
The Masking Marathon
Neurotypical society expects parents to perform parenthood in specific ways, which means neurodivergent parents often exhaust themselves trying to appear "normal" in:
School functions where small talk and social niceties are expected
Pediatrician visits where you must communicate clearly under pressure
Playgroups where neurotypical parenting styles dominate
Family gatherings where your parenting choices might be questioned
Public spaces where your child's behavior (and your responses) are judged
This constant masking isn't just emotionally draining—it consumes cognitive resources you desperately need for actual parenting.
The Support System Mismatch
Traditional parenting support systems often don't work for neurodivergent parents:
Parenting books assume neurotypical processing and emotional responses
Support groups may overwhelm with social demands or sensory environments
Well-meaning advice often ignores your neurological differences
Digital calendars and organization apps might not match your brain's organization style
Traditional therapy approaches might not address neurodivergent-specific challenges
For neurodivergent parents, especially mothers, these challenges often crash into societal expectations about maternal instinct and "natural" caregiving abilities. It's not just running a marathon with weights while everyone else gets a golf cart—it's running that marathon on an obstacle course, in the dark, while the rules keep changing.
Your nervous system isn't wrong—it's just different from the systems our society was designed around. And sometimes, acknowledging the absurdity of the mismatch is the first step toward finding solutions that actually work for your differently-wired family.
The Emotional Underground: Why We Get Stuck in Burnout
Most of us were raised to push down our "negative" emotions. We learned to be "good girls" or "brave boys" by hiding our anger, containing our grief, swallowing our frustration, and masking our fear. This emotional suppression becomes so automatic that by the time we become parents, we don't even realize we're doing it.
Then our children arrive—these gloriously unfiltered beings who feel everything intensely and express it without hesitation. Their emotional freedom triggers our emotional constraints. Their big feelings activate our buried ones.
This emotional suppression creates what I call the "underground river" effect. The emotions don't go away just because we refuse to feel them—they go underground, flowing beneath the surface of our conscious awareness, eroding our foundations and eventually bursting through in ways we can't control.
The way out of this trap isn't trying harder to control these emotions. It's learning to feel them fully. The way out is through. The only way to stop being controlled by your emotions is to start feeling them completely.
Learning to Feel Again: The Missing Piece in Burnout Recovery
Most of us have become so disconnected from our emotional experience that we don't even know how to start feeling again. We intellectualize our emotions ("I'm experiencing anger right now"), we judge them ("I shouldn't feel this way"), we try to fix them ("Let me think positive thoughts"), but we rarely just feel them in our bodies.
The sign that finally brought me into therapy, that finally made me surrender and ask for help: debilitating, exhausting, heinous body dysmorphia (lies, all lies, but I sure did believe them).
Trying to control everything and everyone so All Was Well, shoving any feeling into the deepest subconscious (I didn't even have the benefit of feeling resentful or passive aggressive or saying things under my breath! That shit was BURIED), all the stress from trying to please all the people except myself (and let's be honest, the people weren't actually pleased)—all of that became so overwhelming, so threatening to break through my defenses, that my system threw up one last Hail Mary to sort of sit on the bursting luggage cases of distress and feelings.
It made me hate my body. It was all I could think about for most of the postpartum period—food, exercise, body. It consumed me. Measuring things, monitoring things, pinching things, microscoping things. Researching, "learning because I love learning!", letting the inner voice become a shame monster. Saying and believing awful things about myself. Becoming desperate to "fix" my body into its peak athlete shape because then I could finally relax.
The ironic thing is, and how I started to realize this was dysmorphia... I weighed basically the same as I did pre-kid. Rounding error of a difference. Anyone who looked at me wouldn't really notice the difference. But the movie in my head was dramatic, desperate, miserable.
Because what I was really afraid of was what would happen if I couldn't obsess about my body, if shame didn't focus my brain on what it thought it could control. If I had to just sit with the real stuff that I had buried.
If I had to question my entire way of existing—as if a fish could question the validity of water—until that point. That was too much. Until I finally relented and said, "I am so sick of obsessing. I don't know what's happening, but I can't get out of this loop and I need help."
Here's a simple practice to start reconnecting with your emotions:
Notice the sensation. Where in your body do you feel tension, heaviness, tightness, emptiness? Just locate it physically without labeling it yet.
Get curious about the physical experience. Is it hot or cold? Moving or still? Sharp or dull? Heavy or light? Just observe the pure sensation without the story about why you feel it.
Allow it to be there. Instead of trying to change or eliminate the feeling, can you give it permission to exist? Can you make space for it?
Follow it as it changes. Emotions are energy in motion. If you allow them to move, they'll transform and release naturally. Notice how the sensation shifts, moves, or dissipates as you stay with it.
This practice might seem too simple to make a difference, but it's revolutionary for parents caught in burnout. When you allow yourself to feel your anger at your toddler's tenth tantrum of the day, it moves through you in 90 seconds instead of building up over weeks. When you let yourself grieve the loss of your pre-parent freedom, the grief processes rather than becoming chronic depression.
The Forbidden Feelings of Parenthood: What You're Not Supposed to Say (But Definitely Feel)
Let's get really honest about the emotions of parenthood that we're not supposed to talk about:
Boredom. Parts of parenting are mind-numbingly boring. Reading the same picture book for the fifteenth time. Watching your child's repetitive play. Sitting through another children's birthday party with the same activities and small talk. This doesn't mean you don't love your children—it means you're human.
Resentment. When you've been up all night with a sick child and your partner sleeps peacefully, or when you see childless friends pursuing dreams you've put on hold, or when your children seem completely ungrateful for your sacrifices—resentment is a natural response.
Rage. The combination of sleep deprivation, constant demands, societal pressure, and often little support creates a perfect storm for parental rage. This isn't a character flaw; it's a normal response to abnormal conditions.
Grief. Becoming a parent involves genuine losses alongside the gains. The carefree spontaneity of pre-parent life. The body you had before. The uninterrupted sleep. The freedom to focus entirely on your own needs. It's okay to grieve these losses even while cherishing your children.
Regret. Having complicated feelings about the choice to become a parent doesn't mean you don't love your children fiercely. It means you're being honest about one of the most complex life transitions humans experience.
When we bring these "forbidden" feelings out of the shadows, they lose much of their power to control our behavior. As I tell my clients: emotions only become dangerous when we refuse to feel them.
First Aid for the Emotionally Overwhelmed Parent
When you're deep in burnout and emotionally flooded, even the idea of processing feelings can feel overwhelming. Start with these emergency interventions:
1. Create a designated "feeling space"
Find a spot in your home—even if it's just your bathroom or closet—where you can retreat for 2-5 minutes when you feel emotionally overwhelmed. This isn't just a "time-out" space, but a place where you intentionally allow yourself to feel whatever is coming up.
2. Try the 90-second emotion release
Neuroscience research shows that the physiological component of an emotion typically lasts about 90 seconds if we don't resist it. When you feel a strong emotion rising:
Set a timer for 90 seconds
Focus on the physical sensation in your body
Breathe deeply while allowing the sensation to be there
Notice how it shifts and changes as you stay with it
3. Use "feeling statements" instead of "thinking statements"
Many of us have been trained to intellectualize our emotions rather than feel them. Practice shifting your language from:
"I think I'm upset because..." to "I feel anger in my chest right now"
"This shouldn't bother me..." to "I feel frustration in my jaw"
"I need to calm down..." to "I feel fear in my stomach"
4. Try strategic sensory input
Different sensory experiences can help regulate your nervous system when emotions feel overwhelming:
Cold: Hold an ice cube, splash cold water on your face, or take a cool shower
Pressure: Use a weighted blanket, give yourself a firm self-hug, or press your back against a wall
Movement: Shake your hands vigorously, jump up and down, or rock back and forth
Sound: Use low, rumbling humming sounds, listen to music with a strong beat, or use white noise
5. Create an emotional accountability partner
Identify someone you trust who can ask you regularly, "What are you feeling right now that you might be pushing down?" Just knowing someone will check in can increase your awareness of buried emotions.
Emotional Literacy: The Secret Weapon Against Burnout
Many of us have such limited emotional vocabulary that we can only identify a few basic feelings—happy, sad, angry, scared. This limits our ability to process the complex emotional landscape of parenthood.
Expanding your emotional vocabulary helps you catch feelings earlier and process them more effectively. Instead of just "angry," you might be feeling:
Frustrated (blocked from a goal)
Irritated (small annoyance but building)
Resentful (angry about unfairness)
Indignant (angry about an injustice)
Exasperated (tired of repeated behavior)
Livid (at full emotional capacity)
Each of these nuanced emotions gives you different information about what you need and how to respond. Frustration might signal you need help with an obstacle. Resentment might indicate a boundary needs setting. Exasperation might mean you need a break from a situation.
The Radical Act of Emotional Honesty in Parenting
Our culture tells parents—especially mothers—that they should sacrifice everything for their children, including their own emotional wellbeing. But what if the greatest gift you could give your children isn't your sacrifice but your authenticity?
It might sound like this: "Work is so stressful, being married and trying to have a semblance of a connection while parenting is SO HARD, I have no friends, I have literally lost IQ points, my brain doesn't work anymore, and I am trying so hard to fit all this self care in but I am going to cry if I think about trying to squeeze more 'ME TIME' into my life... AND THESE KIDS! They are always there, NEEDING THINGS, and being INSANE about it!"
That was literally me to my therapist. And her response? "Maybe those two things—the stress you're feeling, and how your kids are behaving—are related."
My immediate reaction: "What. Are you kidding me. So I have to manage all THAT... AND be a perfect Zen mom so my kids don't f'ing LOSE IT on me? What kind of cruel joke is that???"
But she was right. And thank God, she stuck with me through my great burnout unwinding.
Children don't need perfect parents who never get angry, frustrated, or sad. They need real human beings who can model healthy emotional processing. When we pretend not to have "negative" emotions, we teach our children to suppress their own feelings, perpetuating the cycle of emotional disconnection.
Instead, what if you showed your children what healthy emotional expression looks like?
"I'm feeling frustrated right now and need a few minutes to calm down." "I'm sad about missing my friend's event tonight. It's okay to feel disappointed sometimes." "I'm feeling angry that my boundary wasn't respected. I'm going to take some deep breaths and then we'll talk about it."
This modeling doesn't burden your children with your emotions—it gives them permission to have their own. It shows them that emotions aren't dangerous, that they move through us naturally when we acknowledge them.
Feel to Heal: The Counterintuitive Path Through Burnout
Most burnout recovery advice focuses on reducing stress, managing time better, and practicing self-care. These strategies have their place, but they miss the most fundamental aspect of recovery: learning to feel.
Here's the counterintuitive truth: The fastest way through burnout is to feel more, not less.
This doesn't mean becoming more emotionally reactive or unleashing unprocessed emotions on those around you. It means developing a new relationship with your emotions where you:
Notice them earlier and with more nuance
Welcome them as information rather than problems to solve
Feel them physically in your body without getting caught in the mental story
Allow them to move through you completely
Respond based on the wisdom they offer rather than reacting from emotional overwhelm
The emotions we resist persist and eventually control us. The emotions we feel fully move through us and ultimately free us.
Enter therapy—which led to even better therapy (trauma therapy) for me—and a slow unwinding of the MANY beliefs and nervous system patterns that held me down like little Lilliputian threads. But it only took about three therapy sessions before I realized, "Oh my God, this... body thing... isn't... the problem. It's... something else? It's control? Okay, there's more here for me."
Even a little talk therapy helped me see that I could let other people have their own experience, I couldn't protect other people from their own feelings, I couldn't make parenting easy for my co-parent, I just had to let her feel it all, right along with me. I could notice what felt good for me and learn what the F a boundary was so I could hold on to it.
I could unwind, slowly, over years, because this was the deepest thread holding all the others in place: that I didn't only have to be the safe place for everyone. I could just be me, which isn't everyone's cup of tea, which is uncomfortable and not aligned for some of my loved ones, and that was okay. I was good, just like that, just because I exist.
Challenging the System: Creating Family Structures That Work
Part of reclaiming your wellbeing is acknowledging that the systems we parent within are fundamentally broken. Rather than blaming yourself for struggling, get angry at the structures that make parenting so much harder than it needs to be:
A work culture that expects constant availability and penalizes caregiving
An economic system that forces most parents to work full-time while also providing full-time childcare
A healthcare system that treats postpartum support as optional
A society that romanticizes maternal sacrifice while providing minimal support
Instead of accepting these broken systems, consider how you can create different structures within your own family:
Reject perfectionism in all its forms. Good enough really is good enough. Your home doesn't need to be Instagram-worthy. Your children don't need to be in five enrichment activities. You don't need to make everything from scratch.
Distribute the mental load. Use Eve Rodsky's Fair Play system to ensure that the invisible work of family life is divided fairly, not just the visible tasks.
Create your village if one doesn't exist naturally. Easier said than done if you're an introvert or too exhausted to process a new social interaction, but I promise: getting through the awkward first few times of making parent friends, when your park playdates end early because EVERYONE IS CRYING, or you're not sure how Type B this chick really is as you roll up in your french-fry-crusted-mobile, is worth it. You need each other. Form childcare co-ops with other families. Have crappy dinner parties (no prep allowed, to your face or the food—whatever is in the pantry is fine). Find ways to pool resources for mutual support.
Rethink your relationship with work. If possible, advocate for flexible schedules, remote options, or reduced hours. Consider whether a different job or career path might better support your family's wellbeing.
Limit exposure to parenting content that makes you feel inadequate. The aesthetics can shove it (if that's not your vibe, or maybe I'm projecting haha). Curate your social media feeds, the books you read, and the people you spend time with to support your confidence rather than undermining it.
Practical Steps: The Exhausted Parent's Rebellion Plan
If you're feeling too burnt out to even think about rebelling, start with these small but powerful steps:
Immediate Relief (When You're in Crisis)
Create a bare minimum plan and treat to-do lists as a MENU. What absolutely HAS to happen each day? Write it down. Give yourself full permission to drop everything else on overwhelming days. The world won't end if you serve cereal for dinner or skip bath night.
Implement the 90-second rule. When strong emotions arise, set a timer for 90 seconds. Focus on feeling the physical sensation in your body while breathing deeply, not analyzing it, not judging it, not getting into the stories, just welcoming it and tracking the sensations as they move. Most emotions will shift significantly in this time if you don't resist them. You might need a few cycles—or several, even many for the big ones like a devastating loss. But eventually, the waves ease. If you find yourself looping back with the same intensity and the feelings not leaving, start looking for ways you're buying into the anxiety, resentment, shame, guilt, or other hooks in the emotion's story.
Learn to apologize effectively. When you inevitably lose your cool (because you're human), focus on repair. A genuine apology teaches your children more about healthy relationships than perfect behavior ever could. No excuses. And, if age-appropriate, ask them what it felt like for them.
Short-Term Strategies (For the Next 30 Days)
Start an emotion tracking practice. For just 2 minutes each day, write down the emotions you experienced. Notice patterns, triggers, and how different emotions manifest in your body.
Implement one small boundary. Choose one area where you need more protection and set a clear limit. Maybe it's no phone calls during dinner, no work emails after 8 PM, or 15 minutes of transition time when your partner gets home before handling childcare.
Create a "feelings-welcome" family culture. Start naming emotions—yours and your children's—without trying to fix or change them. "You seem frustrated with that puzzle" or "I'm feeling disappointed about missing that event."
Resurrect one pre-parent passion. What used to make you lose track of time? Reading novels? Hiking? Creating art? Reintroduce it in a small, sustainable way—even 20 minutes once a week can reconnect you with your adult identity.
Long-Term Liberation (The Full Rebellion)
Share the mental load. Use systems to distribute not just the doing of tasks but the noticing and planning as well. This relieves the invisible burden that contributes heavily to burnout.
Create your identity map. List all the aspects of yourself that exist alongside "parent"—friend, artist, activist, learner, partner, etc. Commit to nurturing at least three non-parent aspects of your identity regularly.
Build your feeling fluency. Work on expanding your emotional vocabulary and awareness. Practice identifying subtler emotions and catching them earlier.
Develop a regular emotional processing practice. This might be meditation, body-based practices like yoga or dance, journaling, or working with a therapist or coach skilled in emotional processing.
Advocate for change. Join forces with other parents to push for family-friendly policies in your workplace, community, and at the political level. We need systemic change alongside personal transformation.
Reclaiming Your Adult Identity: The Rebellion Starts Now
Here's where the real rebellion comes in: What if your needs, feelings, and identity as an adult are just as important as your children's?
Our culture tells us that good parents—again, especially mothers—should submerge their own identity beneath the waves of their children's needs. But this approach doesn't just lead to burnout—it creates a model of adulthood that we don't actually want our children to inherit.
Do you want your children to grow up believing they should abandon their own needs and identity when they become parents? Or do you want them to see that parenthood can be integrated into a full, authentic adult life?
The greatest rebellion against parental burnout is refusing to let it block you from becoming you. Not exactly who you were, but who you are meant to be now, having gone through the cataclysmic event of Becoming a Parent, which is like rough grade sandpaper that strips a whole bunch of ego away from your soul. This means:
Maintaining connections to pre-parent passions, and new ones!, if you want to. Not as "self-care" but as essential components of your identity. The activities that made you feel alive before children can still be part of your life, even if they look different now. Those old hobbies may not be how you want to spend your time anymore, though. Track what's exciting now, add one small thing at a time and see how it goes.
For me, I used to row—a lot, and very early in the morning. I loved it (more than loved it; I'm still not totally sure if I was in a cult or not :), but new me loved sleep even more. So I started lifting in my basement, when I could. 15' here, 20' there, it adds up and was SO much more fun than brutal, windy, soggy, dark mornings.
Having relationships not centered on your children. Friendships and other deep connection where you talk about ideas, dreams, politics, art—anything other than parenting. Romantic connection with your partner that isn't just about co-parenting.
Creating space for adult thoughts. Reading books meant for adults. Having conversations about complex topics. Engaging with art, music, and ideas that challenge and stimulate your adult mind.
Taking up physical space. Having areas in your home that reflect your adult aesthetic, not just child-friendly functionality. Wearing clothes that express your identity, not just what's practical for childcare.
Expressing your full emotional range. Allowing yourself to feel and express the complete spectrum of human emotions, not just the "parent-appropriate" ones. This doesn't mean taking your emotions out on your children—it means acknowledging and processing them authentically.
The Truth About Recovery: It's Not Linear (And That's Okay)
Recovery from burnout isn't a straight line. You'll have days when you feel reconnected to your adult self and days when you're right back in the trenches of overwhelm. The key is not perfection but persistence—continuing to prioritize your emotional wellbeing even when it feels selfish or unnecessary.
In my work with burnt-out parents, I've found that the most sustainable recoveries include these elements:
Realistic expectations. Recovery doesn't mean never feeling exhausted or overwhelmed again. It means having the tools to process those experiences without getting stuck in them.
Regular reflection. Check in with yourself about what's working and what isn't. Burnout recovery isn't one-size-fits-all; you need to customize approaches to your unique situation.
Community support. No one recovers from burnout in isolation. You need people who understand what you're experiencing and can offer both practical and emotional support.
Professional guidance when needed. Sometimes burnout is complicated by depression, anxiety, trauma, or other mental health challenges that benefit from professional support. There's no shame in seeking help from a therapist, coach, or counselor.
Patience and self-compassion. Recovery takes time, especially when you're still actively parenting. Treating yourself with kindness during the process is not optional—it's essential.
With each little popped thread of limiting belief and old baggage, I felt lighter. The kids were still ALWAYS THERE, NEEDING THINGS, but I found myself able to be the regulated nervous system they needed to regulate themselves. I found myself able to smile, laugh at myself, genuinely roll with the punches, not through gritted teeth or obligation, but because change felt fun, challenging, a chance to use my regulation skills.
As I recognized my feelings (this was a big step), felt them through but not AT people, realized what I needed, asked for what I needed, and self-soothed through the waves of guilt that come from taking up space as a former user of the "I take up no space, thanks!" survival strategy, everything became easier.
Becoming the Parent (and Person) You Want to Be
This journey isn't just about escaping burnout. It's about becoming the parent—and the person—you genuinely want to be, not the one you think you should be in a broken system.
The greatest gift you can give your children isn't your sacrifice or your perfection. It's your authenticity. Children who grow up with parents who honor their own humanity learn that they, too, can be fully human. Children who see parents process difficult emotions learn that feelings aren't dangerous. Children who witness adults maintaining their identity within parenthood learn that growing up doesn't mean giving up what makes you come alive.
Consider this: The parent your child actually needs isn't a superhuman who never struggles or makes mistakes. They need a real human who shows them how to:
Navigate life's challenges with grace
Apologize and repair relationships when things go wrong
Honor their own needs while caring for others
Love themselves even in their imperfection
Challenge systems that don't serve them
Create boundaries that protect their wellbeing
Feel emotions fully without being controlled by them
By prioritizing your emotional wellbeing and reclaiming your adult identity, you're not taking something away from your children—you're giving them permission to value themselves too. You're modeling what healthy adulthood actually looks like, not the martyred, exhausted version our culture often glorifies.
Parental burnout recovery isn't a luxury or a selfish pursuit—it's essential preventative healthcare for your entire family. When you're operating from a place of depletion, everyone suffers. When you're flourishing, that energy ripples outward, creating the conditions for your children to thrive too.
Taking the First Step: Where to Begin Your Recovery
If you're feeling overwhelmed by all these strategies and insights, that's completely understandable. Burnout recovery doesn't happen overnight, and trying to implement everything at once would only create more stress.
Instead, start with just one small shift:
If you're in critical burnout: Focus on basic self-preservation. Dramatically reduce expectations and commitments. Ask for help—even if it feels uncomfortable. Consider professional support to create a personalized recovery plan.
If you're significantly burnt out: Choose one boundary to establish this week. Practice the 90-second emotion processing technique daily. Identify one regular task that could be delegated or eliminated.
If you're in early burnout: Implement a daily 5-minute emotional check-in practice. Have an honest conversation with your partner or co-parent about mental load. Create one system to externalize information you're currently keeping in your head.
Modern parenting isn't easy. It's almost...impossible actually. And it actually is impossible without the emotional regulation skills and secure connection to self that few of us enter parenthood—adult life!—with. Parenting is f'ing hard! Our parents didn't know what they were doing either! And maybe their best wasn't enough for you, and now you've got a whole bunch of stuff hanging on your body like armor, and you're being asked to run the 100m dash.
I'm here to tell you it doesn't have to be this hard. Your burnout is real, it is valid, and it doesn't have to be this way. The rebellion starts with a single act of emotional honesty. What emotion are you feeling right now that you haven't been allowing yourself to acknowledge? Start there, and take the first step toward liberation.
