When Dad Burns Out: How Christian Rebuilt His Life

Hi, friends. Surveys by health insurers and research institutes suggest that roughly 37 to 42 percent of people in Germany, across genders, say they've experienced burnout symptoms or a full burnout phase at some point. Christian is one of them. For years he wore himself down trying to balance work and family, until he got sick.

Here he talks about what kind of father he was then and is now, and why he thinks so many men still find it hard not to be strong all the time…

Dear Christian, you used to be a manager with a lot of responsibility at work. What exactly did you do, and what did your workdays look like?

All told, I was a manager for about eight years, in three different positions at three different companies. I started out as a marketing assistant and eventually worked my way up to head of marketing. I was responsible for a team of more than twenty people, some of whom worked weekends, which meant I regularly worked weekends too, during time that should have belonged to my family… I was ambitious and hardworking. Four years ago, the burnout hit.

You were already a dad back then, too. How would you describe yourself as a father during that time?

Sadly, we lived the “traditional” setup. I had the full-time job and carried most of the financial load. My wife worked part-time and carried most of the care work. Because I worked so much, I missed a lot of our family's daily life. Some weekdays I was away from home for twelve hours.

On weekends I tried to make up for it, but looking back, it was mostly overcompensating. My ex-wife had expectations of me for everyday life, like cooking dinner and doing homework with the kids, that I couldn't meet. So on weekends I tried to calm my guilty conscience.

So your marriage suffered under your workload, too. When did you first realize it couldn't go on like this?

It was gradual. We'd never said a lot of our expectations of each other out loud, and we were bad at coordinating our everyday life. Our parenting was very “needs-based,” with few boundaries, and we got caught in a kind of reactive spiral: the kids' needs always came before our own.

We lost each other as a couple. Hugs, even quick kisses, became rarer and rarer. For a long time I thought it was just a phase and would pass on its own. Of course, it didn't.

You ended up in burnout. Can you tell us how you were doing back then, physically and mentally?

I described it this way in my book: I was burning the candle at both ends. At work, I'd just spent three years settling into sales, and I had set myself the goal of doing it really well. At home, I held myself to the same standard as a father.

I tried to be more present at home because I felt guilty toward my wife and kids. Then, when I took over at home from 4 p.m. on, I felt guilty toward my employer, even if I'd already put in eight hours. That guilt and my own expectations turned into constant exhaustion, which I refused to admit for a long time.

The separation followed. Why was it important and right for you?

For a long time I thought this kind of stress and constant pressure was normal, because all our friends with kids were struggling with parenting and juggling work and family, too. Then one evening I got vision problems. I saw everything double, and it didn't go away on its own. What followed was an odyssey through hospitals and finally the diagnosis: multiple sclerosis.

When you get a diagnosis like that and you know it can't be cured, you suddenly realize you only have this one life, and your time is limited. Something clicked, and I knew I didn't want to keep going like this.

We did couples therapy, which brought back some normalcy but missed the real issue. The therapy focused on getting through everyday life, not on what we were actually missing. My wife herself asked twice in therapy whether a separation might be better, but we badly wanted to stay together for the kids and keep functioning. So we slid right back into our old rut…

A year later, on a family vacation, I realized it just couldn't go on like this, and I said so out loud.

How are things now?

After the separation, we lived in a “nest model” for a year and a half, where the kids stay in the family home and the parents take turns living there. It was very challenging. Meanwhile I'd met my current partner, whom I deliberately didn't involve in the kids' daily life at first. Only once I found my own apartment, one with enough room for the kids to really feel at home, did she become part of this life… Today we co-parent with the kids splitting their time between our two homes, and it's going much better than before.

How would you describe yourself as a father today? And compared to back then?

I've become calmer and more relaxed. In the past, I would probably have bent over backwards to give my kids whatever they wanted. Today I tell them there's a limit, and that they have to learn to deal with it. I've also told my kids openly that I have multiple sclerosis and that it comes with an exhaustion I hadn't put into words before.

They accepted it quickly and completely, and since then they actually support me a bit more. That gives me the feeling of being the calm, clear father they need. I set more boundaries now and communicate more clearly. I pay less attention to what my kids want in the moment and more to what's good for them in the long run.

You've also reinvented yourself professionally. What do you do today, and how is it going?

The company changed owners, and I left my old job by choice because it just didn't feel right anymore. This fall I'll start a new position in sales at a new company. I used the time in between to write a book, to slow down, and to focus completely on my kids and how I raise them. That's been really good for me, and for us.

Do you feel like men today still want to be “strong” and pay less attention to their limits?

Yes, absolutely. A lot of men want to prove themselves, especially through their jobs. I think many only take their work seriously when it feels hard and heavy, the way I used to. But it's really about figuring out which job actually fits you.

Many men still define themselves strongly through status and career, and often live out an image that hardly matches how they really feel inside. Keeping up that gap between the image and the inner life costs energy, and eventually it runs out. Some talk themselves into believing the exhaustion is no big deal. Others end up in burnout.

On top of that, men on average still earn more than women, which pushes many families almost automatically into that “traditional” split: he works full-time because it makes financial sense. That's a long-standing pattern, and I have a problem with it, because the working world still tends to see men as the more valuable employees. That change is happening far too slowly for my taste.

What's your biggest takeaway from the past few years?

That I don't get ahead by getting stronger, but by quitting the fight against myself.

Christian wrote down his story and what he's learned in a book. You can get it here.