Burnout Is Real: From One Parent to Another
The aftermath of Christmas morning
I want to start this differently than most blog posts.
I’m not just a clinician.
I’m not just a BCBA.
And I’m not just someone who studies burnout from the outside.
I’m also a parent of an autistic 8-year-old boy.
So when I talk about burnout, I’m not talking at you.
I’m talking with you—from the same boat.
By profession, I’ve spent years working in applied behavior analysis. I even wrote my doctoral dissertation on burnout in behavior technicians: why it happens, how it impacts care, and what systems do (and don’t) do to prevent it.
And here’s what becoming a parent taught me very quickly:
Burnout doesn’t stop at the technician level.
It doesn’t stop at clinicians, teachers, or therapists.
Burnout is endemic among parents, too.
We just don’t talk about it enough.
Parent burnout isn’t always dramatic. Often it’s quiet.
It looks like:
Loving your child deeply but feeling emotionally exhausted
Holding it together all day and falling apart at night
Feeling guilty for needing space from the person you’re advocating for nonstop
Being “the expert” in meetings while feeling completely depleted inside
Wondering how you can be so strong and so tired at the same time
As both a clinician and a parent, I’ve learned this truth the hard way:
Burnout isn’t a personal failure. It’s a nervous system under chronic demand.
Why Parents of Neurodivergent Kids Are Especially Vulnerable
Parenting any child is demanding. Parenting a neurodivergent child often means:
More appointments, emails, and decisions than most people see
Constant advocacy. Often in systems that weren’t built with your child in mind
Advocacy
Carrying the emotional load for your child and for everyone around them
Advocacy
Living with uncertainty about the future while trying to stay present today
Avocacy
Clinically, we call this sustained emotional labor.
As a parent, it feels like never fully exhaling.
What My Clinical Training Didn’t Teach Me—But Parenting Did
I studied burnout academically. I can explain it neurologically. I can describe the research, the risk factors, and the systemic contributors.
But parenting my son taught me something research alone never could:
You can love your child with everything you have
and still feel burned out.
Those two things can exist at the same time.
And one does not cancel out the other.
Practical Tips for Surviving, and even enjoying, this journey
Parenting a neurodivergent child is hard, but it can also be full of joy and wonder if we give ourselves space to notice it. Here are some strategies I’ve found helpful, both personally and professionally:
Prioritize micro-breaks. Even 5–10 minutes of deep breathing, a walk, or listening to music can reset your nervous system.
Celebrate the small wins. Did your child use a new word? Try a new activity? Transition without a meltdown? Notice it. Take a picture. Tell someone. Tell everyone.
Create shared rituals of joy. Even a short daily activity that is just for fun (silly songs, art, sensory play) can help you see your child’s personality shine.
Set boundaries without guilt. It’s okay to say no to something that doesn’t serve you or your family today.
Ask for help—and accept it. From spouses, friends, family, or professionals. You don’t have to do this alone.
Reframe hard days as data. Both clinically and personally, challenging moments tell us about needs, triggers, and strengths. Use them to guide growth, not self-criticism.
Document joy. Keep a “small victories” notebook or photos. It reminds you why the journey, even with its challenges, can be beautiful. I can’t explain the absolute wonder I feel when an old video of my son pops up on my memories from the early days of his ABA therapy sessions. His first time whispering “go” after his BT said “ready…set!”, or the very cute way he used to say “yes!” In a high-pitched squeal once he finally learned what that word meant. Now that he’s arguing with me on the regular, it’s such a wonderful reminder of the hard work we have all put in to his development, and just how far he has come.
Burnout Is a Systems Problem, Not a You Problem
In my professional work, I’ve seen how systems contribute to burnout in technicians: productivity demands, lack of support, emotional labor without recovery.
Parents experience something similar, but often with less support and more judgment.
That’s why it’s so important to name this:
Burnout isn’t about weakness.
It’s about exposure.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “This feels uncomfortably familiar,” I want you to know:
You’re not alone.
You’re not broken.
And you’re not doing this wrong.
You are parenting in a way that requires resilience, advocacy, patience, and love, every single day.
And that takes a toll.
Acknowledging that doesn’t make you less devoted.
It makes you honest.
And honesty is where real support begins.
How We Support Families, Not Just Children
At our clinic, we recognize that supporting your child’s growth also means supporting you as a parent. We do this by:
Coaching parents on practical strategies for everyday routines
Offering guidance on managing stress, burnout, and emotional regulation
Providing transparent communication and consistent updates, so you feel informed rather than overwhelmed
Creating a community of support among families, so you know you are not alone in this journey
Because thriving doesn’t just happen in therapy sessions. It happens when the whole family is supported, seen, and empowered.