When Burnout Looks Like Illness
It happened again. Just days before the end of term, my six-year-old broke. His little body and mind, utterly exhausted from weeks of masking and trying to keep up with school demands, gave out. The result? A high temperature and vomiting.
Now, logic might say this sounds like a bug. But experience tells me otherwise—this is burnout. I know it because I live it, too. When life overwhelms me, my body reacts the same way: fever, nausea, shutdown. This isn’t illness in the traditional sense. It’s what happens when the world asks too much, for too long.
The Guilt That Comes With Burnout
The days that followed were hard. My six-year-old cried constantly and refused to speak. Watching him like that—locked inside himself, unable to communicate or process the world—broke my heart. The guilt hit hard. Had I failed to protect him?
But I remind myself: he’s autistic. Burnout isn’t necessarily a result of doing something wrong. Sometimes, just existing is exhausting. Even with all the accommodations in place, life can still be too much.
No Plans? No Problem (Sort Of)
While other families were buzzing with Easter plans—camping, beach days, soft play—we had nothing lined up. Not because we forgot, but because we knew burnout was likely.
We’d hoped to go on our first family camping trip, but we never booked it. And I’m glad we didn’t. Our reality was quiet, slow, and indoors. It didn’t feel exciting, but it was necessary.
Even though I know this is what my kids need, the guilt still creeps in. Social media doesn’t exactly celebrate “staying in and surviving.” I feel the pull of that picture-perfect childhood we’re told we should be providing. But I’ve learned that pushing for that version only ends in meltdown.
The Chaos of Week One
The first week of the holidays was rough. Really rough.
My six-year-old was dysregulated. My three-year-old was overtired. I was wildly overstimulated. We didn’t leave the house.
Meltdowns. Endless screen time. Volcanic tempers. Even the suggestion of going into the garden sparked stress. A trip to the park? Screaming rage.
I needed naps just to function. It wasn’t relaxing—it was survival.
Then Something Shifted
After seven days of emotional carnage, something changed. The boys sat on the floor and played Monopoly. Together. Voluntarily. No fighting. No tears. Just calm.
Sensing a shift, I suggested a walk in the woods. They nodded. Smiled…. and I burst into tears.
They were back.
Our Version of a “Fun Holiday”
Now, our holidays don’t look like most people’s and that’s okay. We choose calm, quiet and predictable activities. Woodland walks, empty beaches or charity shop treasure hunts.
Sometimes we just stroll to the post office, chatting about the flowers. That might sound boring to others—but for us, it’s joy without overwhelm.
To Other Parents Dealing With Burnout
If you’re deep in the burnout trenches with your child, you’re not alone.
It’s not easy. It’s really not easy. But if you give your child time and space to rest, they will likely come back to themselves. It might take a week, it might take longer—but when it happens, the fun (the real kind of fun) can begin.
You’re doing enough. Even if your holidays look nothing like the ones in your Instagram feed.
Survival is love. Recovery is the goal.
And joy—your kind of joy—will follow.
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