We’re Not Robots in Cardigans: A Therapist’s Reflection on Burnout, Balance & Being Human

There’s a common misconception that therapists have it all figured out. That because we’ve been trained to support others through the messiness of life, we somehow float above it ourselves — always grounded, always calm, always regulated. I want to gently (and firmly) push back on that.

I’m a therapist. I love the work I do. I deeply care about my clients. I believe in therapy. And I have also felt completely burned out.

Not in a “rough day” kind of way — in the “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep doing this” kind of way. In the “how do I hold space for others when I’m barely holding it together myself?” kind of way. And I know I’m not alone.

Therapists are human. We are not immune to the pressures of life, to the weight of the world, or to the cracks in a deeply flawed mental health system. We have families, bills, heartbreaks, medical issues, neurodivergence, anxiety, trauma, and rough childhoods of our own. We don’t magically bypass these just because we’ve read the textbooks and learned the interventions.

I’ve struggled with burnout — and I’m still working on what balance looks like for me. Some days I feel on top of things, and other days I question everything. That doesn’t make me a bad therapist. It makes me real.

My Life Fell Apart — And I’m Still Rebuilding

There was a time — not all that long ago — when my life completely fell apart. I won’t pretend it was just a quiet drift or a slow burnout I didn’t notice. The truth is, I lost myself. I took the wrong road — overcommitted, under-attuned to my own needs, ignoring all the warning signs — and it cost me. Big.

I kept pushing through exhaustion. I abandoned my own limits in the name of helping others. I dismissed the growing internal chaos because I thought I “should be fine.” I wasn’t. And eventually, everything crashed.

That experience forced me to stop and re-evaluate everything. I had to rebuild — my mental health, my boundaries, my sense of self. And I continue to rebuild. Slowly, imperfectly, but intentionally. I still fall into old patterns. I still catch myself over-functioning. I still need reminders that I’m allowed to be human. But I’m showing up differently now — with more awareness, more boundaries, and more gentleness toward myself.

Self-Disclosure, When Done Right, Builds Bridges

I want to be clear: I don’t unload my personal life in the therapy room. My work isn’t about me. I’m always thoughtful and intentional when I share anything personal — and only do so when it’s in the service of the client’s growth and healing. But I’ve found that a well-placed moment of transparency can be profoundly normalizing.

When I say “I hear you” about the struggles in the mental health and healthcare systems, I mean it. There have been times when I couldn’t afford the very therapy I recommend to clients. Times I’ve felt discouraged, dismissed, or just misunderstood by providers. Times I’ve struggled to find a therapist who truly got me. And when I tell clients, “Please keep advocating for yourself — your health depends on it,” it’s not just theory. It’s lived experience.

These kinds of disclosures — rare, brief, and offered only when they support the client’s process — have helped build stronger alliances. I’ve watched clients’ shoulders relax. I’ve seen the relief in their eyes — “Wait, you too?” There’s power in that. Not because they need to know about me, but because it reminds them they’re not broken. They’re not alone.

Balance Is Not a Destination — It’s a Daily Practice

Some days, I feel balanced. I move through my sessions with presence and clarity. I log off and still have enough left in me to play with my daughter with real energy and attention — not distracted, not just going through the motions, but there with her. Other days, I feel depleted. I question if I’m making a difference. I cancel plans because I need quiet. I cry in my own therapy session.

That’s real life. That’s balance in motion. It’s not a destination we arrive at and stay forever — it’s a practice we return to again and again.

As a therapist, I don’t want to present a curated version of myself that seems untouchable. That kind of perfectionism helps no one. My job is to be present, ethical, and effective — not perfect.

For Anyone Reading This…

If you’re a fellow therapist, I hope you remember you don’t have to martyr yourself to be good at what you do. Your humanity is not a liability — it’s your strength. Take care of yourself. Seek support. Say no when you need to. Burnout doesn’t make you broken — it makes you someone in need of care, too.

If you’re a client (past, present, or future), I want you to know I don’t sit across from you with judgment. I sit with empathy and with a deep understanding of how hard life can be. Your honesty is safe with me. Your struggle is seen. And when I say, “Keep going — keep looking for the right provider, the right support,” I say it from lived experience.

I hope this helps reiterate something that might be easy to forget: I’m a flawed human. I’m imperfect. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve burned out. I’ve broken down. And I’ve also done the hard work of showing back up — for myself and for you — in the best way I can, each and every day.

Therapists don’t have it all figured out. But many of us are doing the work — internally and externally — to keep showing up with integrity, honesty, and care.

And sometimes, that’s enough.