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The Burnout of Millennial Mothers
Do you think, you don’t deserve to be burnt out?
“To be honest, it sounds like you’re burnt out.”
“I don’t work enough hours to be burnt out.”
If one conversation could sum up the cause of burnout in millennial mothers, it is this. It was my friend Lizzie who pointed out, during one of our weekly phone calls, that I sounded burnout out—and the fragile part of my self-esteem couldn’t wait to push against it.
“I don’t work enough hours to be burnt out.”
“I only work three days a week.”
What I didn’t add was: “I don’t earn enough to be burnt out!”
But I had to admit, this feeling *did* feel familiar. The tearfulness for no reason; the anger in my belly that felt closer to grief than rage; the urge to retreat from the world and “give up my career” because an all-or-nothing approach feels less exhausting than finding a compromise. Personally, I know I’m not in full-blown burnout but I also know when I’m dancing on the precipice—and it has little to do with my ‘work’ load.
Millennial parents have been called the ‘burnout generation’. One report found, 66 per cent of parents are burnt out—and identifying as female is a predominant risk factor. This isn’t news to me, and it probably isn’t news to you. I’ve had episodes of burn out whilst juggling my work and motherhood. The difference is, previously, I could always anchor it to a glorious career milestone.
Of course, I was burnt out when I launched a book after giving birth to baby #2.
Of course, I was burnt out when I joined the Government’s COVID-19 Taskforce when I was 8-months pregnant with baby #3.
That’s a kind of burnout, I can attach my ego to.
Hey look, I’m burnout because I’m ACHIEVING! I did it!
But the idea of being burnt out “just” from being a mother (and don’t worry, I’m going to argue back with this later), in a period of my work that is steady but not monumental, feels… dare I say, pathetic. And, certainly, not the kind of warrior attitude that women born between 1981 and 1996 were raised for.
And, this is entirely our problem…
As with all progress, the way we accept, and address, mental health challenges doesn’t happen all at once. When I started my career as a journalist, nobody was really writing/talking about anxiety or depression. Now it’s a hot button topic but we still tend to talk about it in ways that are ‘socially acceptable’ (e.g women can be sad but still can’t be angry. Men can be angry but still can’t be sad. Choosing sobriety is a socially-acceptable topic, but have you ever raised the subject of going cold turkey from pornography?). It’s progress—but not entirely.
The same is true with our attitude to burnout. Burnout is a privilege afforded to corporate parents; entrepreneurial parents; full-time working parents; parents who crack a seven-figure salary and have ‘earned’ the right to use the term ‘burnout’. For the rest of us, the System has done such a good job on our ‘not enoughness’, that we don’t think we even deserve owning an emotional disorder.
The same is true with our attitude to burnout. Burnout is a privilege afforded to corporate parents; entrepreneurial parents; full-time working parents; parents who crack a seven-figure salary and have ‘earned’ the right to use the term ‘burnout’. For the rest of us, the System has done such a good job on our ‘not enoughness’, that we don’t think we even deserve owning an emotional disorder.
On the Working Parent Burnout Scale — a scale that can be used to assess if you’re vulnerable to burnout — one of the statements you have to rate is: ‘I am doing a good job being a parent.’ Which, of course, is why women are more susceptible than men —because we tend to undervalue our own qualifications, whilst men overvalue theirs. It’s the same in the board room, and it’s the same around the dinner table…
So, what can we do? The first step is to keep calling out The System that has set women up to fail; to realise, the voice in your head saying “you’re not enough” is wrong. VERY WRONG. VERY, VERY WRONG.
This is where it helps to have friends who are not in the trenches of parenting around you; someone to say ‘do you know how amazing you’re doing?’ ‘Of course, you’re tired. Let’s talk about your boundaries and how you can be kind to yourself.’
Someone to remind you that even HAM’s (Highly Achieving Mothers) have seasons of life where they choose to rest, recover and be creative in ways that can’t be measured on a Profit and Loss spread sheet. Someone to remind you of the incredible job you do by just showing up and being you.*
*Thankyou Lizzie—I couldn’t do this without you!
The truth is, I AM tired … and you may be too. It’s not because I’ve launched a new product or rebooted my business; it’s not because I’ve launched a book or tripled my income this year. It’s because I love hard; I play hard and, in the last year, I’ve kept my business beautifully steady, whilst supporting and nurturing my family and my friendships.
It’s not my schedule that drives me to burn out (I work part-time and I’m lucky to have a high hourly salary). It’s the expectation that we (the collective ‘we’) place on ourselves, and the comparisons we make between what we do and our perception of everyone else achieving around us. It’s also the parts of our life that we grossly devalue—being the Managing Director of our home; the Chief Operations Officer of our children; the Chief Culture Officer of our Relationship.
There is a saying: our parent’s ceiling becomes our floor. In other words, the resources and knowledge our parents had when they were raising us, becomes the starting point from which we can parent. Do I want my daughters to try to ‘one up’ my achievements, if they become working mothers? Not really…
In fact, I hope they become the generation who rebel against the need to prove they can do it all; the women writing papers about what they learnt from 'the ‘burnout generation’ before them, and why they’re choosing to do things differently.
There is a saying: our parent’s ceiling becomes our floor. In other words, the resources and knowledge our parents had when they were raising us, becomes the starting point from which we can parent. Do I want my daughters to try to ‘one up’ my achievements, if they become working mothers? Not really…
The truth is, I COULD be doing more. I could be on my laptop, pitching, once my kids are sleeping. I know I could—I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again—but right now I just don’t want to. Because, my life is pretty, damn lovely… when I let it be!
So I’ll continue to pour my heart into the work I do with my book writing clients. I’ll write words that I believe move the world forward. I’ll expand my business in way that feel expansive, not exhausting. I’ll keep dreaming of Big Ideas and future plans for my business but I probably won’t action them (not yet, anyway).
Instead of hustling once my kids hit the hay, I think, I’ll learn to play the ukulele instead. Because I cant erase the millennial itch to be more and do more. But I can make it a ‘more’ that soothes my nervous system and feeds my soul.
I’d love to hear what you think about this piece. Share it with a mama who is doing so well, and needs to hear it!
Amy x