Treating the Healer: Combating Psychologist Burnout After Years of Crisis Work

After years of bushfires, a pandemic, and mounting demand for mental health support, many Australian psychologists find themselves running on empty. We have been the helpers on the frontlines of unprecedented crises – and now the helpers need healing. Burnout and vicarious trauma have become common professional hazards, with one survey showing about three in four mental health workers reporting high burnout in recent years. As a fellow psychologist, you might recognise the signs in yourself: exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix, a creeping cynicism or “compassion fatigue,” and that dread in the morning when facing another day of clients in pain. It’s clear that we must take active steps to care for ourselves with the same urgency and compassion that we offer to others.

Vignette: Dr. A, a trauma psychologist in a public hospital, realised one day that she couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t dream about her clients. During the peak of COVID-19, her life began to mirror her patients’ stories of fear and exhaustion. She found herself wishing clients would cancel and feeling guilty about it. Finally, after nearly falling asleep during a late telehealth session, Dr. A knew she had hit a wall. She reduced her hours and sought out a trusted colleague to talk to. This was the start of rebuilding her resilience.

In this practice-oriented article, we will explore peer-to-peer strategies to reduce the load of vicarious trauma and combat professional burnout. From reflective practice tools and smarter roster design to everyday self-care and boundary-setting, these techniques are aimed at helping “the healer” heal themselves. The tone here is collegial – think of it as one psychologist sharing hard-won tips with another – with an emphasis on practical changes you can implement right away. Let’s delve into how you can recharge your passion and safeguard your wellbeing for the long haul of your career.

Recognising the Toll of Crisis Work

Years of crisis-driven work can take a silent toll on even the most seasoned psychologist. Burnout isn’t a personal failing or a sign of weakness – it’s often a cumulative response to chronic stress and emotional exhaustion in our line of work. Vicarious trauma (also called secondary trauma) is one contributor: absorbing our clients’ traumatic stories day after day can subtly shift our own cognitive and emotional world. Over time, we might notice changes in ourselves such as hypervigilance, numbness, or persistent sadness that mirror the trauma we witness. Research confirms that repeated exposure to distressing material puts helping professionals at risk of vicarious trauma and burnout, even if we believed our training would “inoculate” us against it. In fact, psychologists may be more at risk than the general public because of this continuous exposure.

Common signs of professional burnout in psychologists include feeling drained and ineffective, losing empathy for clients, and a drop in job satisfaction. You might catch yourself thinking “What’s the point? I’m not even making a difference,” or finding that tasks which used to energise you (like engaging in professional development or reading new research) now feel like burdens. One Australian clinician described an early warning sign for him was losing interest in continuous learning, as his fatigue drove his brain to “conserve energy” and withdraw from anything beyond just getting through the day. Another red flag is the sense of meaninglessness – the haunting belief that your work doesn’t matter anymore. Physically, burnout can manifest as headaches, insomnia, or an ever-present tension in your body. Emotionally, it can lead to irritability, anxiety, or a kind of empathic numbness where you just can’t summon the same compassion you once did.

Recognising these signs in ourselves is crucial. Burnout often creeps in gradually. We adapt to higher stress levels without realising how far our baseline has shifted. Dr. Ahona Guha, a trauma specialist, noted that she simply got used to an “intense, crushing fatigue” for three years before it dawned on her that it wasn’t normal. As colleagues, we need to remind each other (and ourselves) that feeling this way is a signal, not a shameful secret. Acknowledging burnout is the first step to addressing it. In the sections below, we focus on concrete ways to lighten the emotional load and rekindle our sense of efficacy and meaning in work.

Reflective Practice: Learning from Our Experiences

One powerful antidote to vicarious trauma and burnout is reflective practice – deliberately processing our professional experiences to glean insights and maintain self-awareness. Instead of just moving from one harrowing session to the next, we take time to reflect on what we’re feeling and why. This can prevent the buildup of unprocessed emotions that lead to compassion fatigue.

Personal reflective tools are simple but effective. For instance, consider keeping a reflective journal for sessions that stick with you. After a particularly tough therapy session – maybe one that left you feeling anxious, frustrated, or just unsettled – jot down what affected you and ask yourself a few key questions: “Why did I react this way? What was triggered in me? How did the client respond, and what might I do differently next time?”. Writing down these thoughts serves two purposes: it helps unload the emotional residue from your mind onto paper, and it offers you a mirror to observe your own reactions over time. You might start noticing patterns, like certain client stories that resonate with your own history or values. Those insights are gold – they tell you where you might need extra support or supervision, and they highlight the personal areas to nurture for your own healing.

Vignette: Maria is a clinical psychologist in community mental health who often sees survivors of natural disasters. After one client recounted escaping a bushfire, Maria found herself unusually anxious and on edge. Instead of brushing it aside, she took 15 minutes after the session to write in her reflective journal. She noted that her heart was racing and she felt a lump in her throat during the session. In her journal she asked: “What about this story hit me so hard?” She realised the client’s story reminded her of her own family’s experience with a house fire years ago – a connection she hadn’t been conscious of in the moment. By acknowledging this, Maria was able to be kinder to herself (it’s human to be affected) and flagged this topic for her next supervision. In supervision, she and her supervisor processed Maria’s feelings, and together they strategised ways for Maria to ground herself when future sessions hit close to home.

Reflective practice doesn’t always have to be solitary. Peer discussion groups or reflective practice groupscan be a safe space to talk through cases that got under your skin. Some psychologists form monthly meet-ups (in person or online) where each person brings a de-identified case that was emotionally challenging. Together, the group reflects not just on the clinical aspects but on the therapist’s emotional experience. This normalises the fact that we are human too, and it transforms what might feel like personal weakness into shared professional growth. In Australia, there’s growing interest in such reflective groups as a burnout prevention tool, as they encourage regular emotional processing and collective problem-solving in a supportive atmosphere.

Another useful habit is to create rituals for reflection at the beginning or end of your work week. For example, you might start Monday morning with a short meditation or intention-setting, reviewing your upcoming week and mentally preparing for any challenging appointments. At week’s end, engage in a closing ritual: perhaps spend 10 minutes journaling about the week’s highs and lows, or even write a brief note to yourself about things you did well. These rituals act as emotional bookends, helping you transition out of “therapist mode” and preventing rumination about work over the weekend. They also reinforce a practice of continuous self-awareness – you’re regularly checking in with yourself, which makes it more likely you’ll catch the early whispers of burnout before they become roars.

In summary, reflective practice is about carving out space to learn from our own emotional responses. It can be as formal as writing in a reflective journal or as quick as a mental note between sessions. The key is to not sweep our reactions under the rug. By facing them with curiosity rather than judgment, we maintain our emotional hygiene as clinicians and reaffirm that our feelings, too, deserve attention. As one psychologist put it, engaging in mindfulness, daily reflections and self-assessments is an “actionable step toward reducing psychologist burnout and continuing high-quality client care.” We owe it to ourselves – and ultimately to our clients – to keep that reflective mirror polished.

Quality Supervision and Peer Support

Psychology can be a surprisingly isolating profession, especially in private practice or small teams. Yet, we know that healing happens in connection – and that applies to therapists as much as clients. One of the most effective shields against burnout is regular, high-quality supervision and peer support. None of us should have to carry the toughest cases or ethical dilemmas alone. As the Australian Psychological Society (APS) has emphasised, supervision isn’t just a early-career checkbox; it should be an ongoing practice throughout a psychologist’s life, continually used to enhance skills, reflect on cases, and safeguard wellbeing.

If you haven’t already, consider finding a supervisor or peer consultant who is a great fit for you. This might be someone outside your workplace to allow full openness (since fear of judgment by colleagues can sometimes hold us back ), or it could be an experienced colleague within your organisation with whom you have a rapport. The crucial element is trust and a sense of safety – you need to feel you can bring up anything, from “I think I mishandled that session” to “I’m having nightmares about a client’s story.” In a healthy supervisory relationship, these admissions are met not with judgment but with support and guidance. In fact, good supervision can directly improve your wellbeing and resilience. It’s a space to offload the emotional burden, gain perspective, and get feedback on managing challenging situations. Many psychologists say their long-term supervisor becomes like “a therapist for the therapist,” someone who helps them process professional and personal stressors in tandem.

Peer support can take many forms. Aside from formal supervision, peer consultation groups or even casual check-ins with colleagues serve as a reminder that we’re not alone in this work. For example, a small group in a community clinic might institute a weekly 30-minute huddle where team members share one success and one challenge of the week. This might involve venting about a hard case or brainstorming how to handle a tricky situation, all within a confidential, collegial environment. These interactions build a sense of solidarity – a “we’re in this together” mindset – which itself is antidote to the isolation that fuels burnout.

If you work in private practice, peer support requires a bit more initiative, but it’s well worth the effort. You could join an existing professional network or create your own informal support circle. For instance, some private practitioners arrange a monthly coffee or Zoom call with a few psychologist friends to talk about how everyone’s really doing (not just case strategies, but personal wellbeing). It’s a chance to normalise experiences like, “I find I’m getting more anxious clients than I can handle this month – how are you all coping with the post-disaster influx?” Often, you’ll discover your peers are feeling the same pinch, and you can share solutions or simply commiserate and feel heard.

Importantly, Australian psychologists have an ethical obligation to take steps if we notice ourselves or a colleague struggling to the point it might impact client care. That’s why building a culture of openness about burnout is vital. If you’re a senior clinician or in a supervisory role, model vulnerability: mention in team meetings that you, too, sometimes seek support or have your own psychologist to talk to. This can reduce the “fear of being judged” that stops many from admitting they’re not OK.

Also, don’t overlook formal debriefing opportunities if you’re working in crisis contexts. After critical incidents (like a client suicide or a particularly traumatic event), participating in a structured debrief session can help all involved staff process the incident together. Many organisations have protocols for this; if yours doesn’t, you can advocate for starting one or at least ensure you debrief with someone on your own.

Remember, seeking support is not a sign of incompetence – it’s a sign of professionalism. As peers, we should encourage each other to use the safety nets available. That might mean reminding a colleague about their entitlement to external supervision funding (if provided in public health settings), or simply asking a fellow therapist, “How are you holding up?” after a tough week. Normalising help-seeking among psychologists creates a ripple effect: it helps individuals recover and prevents future burnout, and it ultimately leads to better care for our clients. We all do better when we’re connected.

Smart Roster Design and Work-Life Boundaries

One often overlooked factor in therapist burnout is the structure of our work life. How we design our schedules, caseloads, and time off can make a significant difference in our stress levels. After years of crisis work, it’s crucial to work smarter, not just harder. Let’s talk about roster design – whether you’re in a public clinic setting or managing your own private practice calendar – and how to create a sustainable rhythm of work.

1. Balance Your Caseload: All clients are important, but not all sessions are equal in emotional intensity. It’s unwise to stack your week with back-to-back high-trauma or high-risk cases. Try to spread out the most challenging cases across the week so you’re not hitting an emotional wall on any given day. Some therapists use a simple color-coding system on their calendar: e.g. red for trauma/intense sessions, yellow for moderate, green for lighter check-in sessions or long-term clients who are stable. Visually scanning your week, you can immediately see if all the “reds” are piled on one day – and if so, rearrange if possible. Also, schedule challenging clients at times when you personally have the most energy. If you’re a morning person, maybe see trauma clients in the morning and leave lower-intensity work for late afternoon, or vice versa. By aligning with your natural energy peaks, you’ll be more present and resilient with those clients who need it most.

2. Allow Recovery Time: We counsel our clients to take breaks and breathe, yet how often do we sprint from session to session without a pause? Building buffer breaks into your daily schedule is a small change that yields big benefits. Consider blocking 10–30 minutes after particularly intense sessions as “emotional recovery time.” Research suggests that using these short breaks for grounding or self-care exercises can prevent emotional carry-over into the next session. During a buffer break, you might do a quick grounding technique – for example, deep breathing and a few stretches, or stepping outside to feel some fresh air on your face. Some therapists use this time to jot down a few personal reflections (as mentioned earlier) or simply to hydrate and have a snack. These practices literally help your nervous system reset after being in “high-empathy, high-alert” mode with a difficult case. The payoff is that when you greet your next client, you’re not still mentally and emotionally stuck in the last client’s trauma; you’ve reset to a calmer baseline. This protects you from accumulating stress throughout the day and also protects your clients by ensuring you can be fully present for each of them.

3. Use “Anchor” Appointments: A clever scheduling idea that some clinicians use is the concept of “anchor clients.” These are sessions that are reliably less intense or even uplifting – perhaps a long-term client who’s doing well, a therapy group you enjoy running, or any appointment that you know tends to leave you feeling steady rather than drained. Intentionally scatter these anchor sessions between the harder ones. For example, if you have two heavy trauma cases in a day, you might schedule a more straightforward session or a supervision meeting in between. The anchor acts like an emotional pit stop, giving your system a chance to recalibrate and catch its breath. One caution: using anchor clients doesn’t mean you check out or coast during those sessions – they still deserve your full presence. It’s more about diversifying the emotional intensity of your day. That way, you’re not hitting consecutive hours of peak stress without relief.

4. Protect Time for Admin and Consultation: A well-designed roster isn’t 100% filled with clients. Build in blocks for administrative tasks, case notes, peer consultation, and yes, self-care activities. In private practice, this might mean intentionally leaving a half-day each week with no clients to catch up on reports or attend a webinar – and not feel guilty about it. In public settings, if you have control or input on rosters, advocate for reasonable admin time or use your accrued time in lieu to do these tasks in batches rather than after hours. By scheduling admin and non-clinical duties, you prevent the common creep of paperwork into your personal time. It also stops you from seeing too many clients just because there were empty slots on your calendar. Remember: more clients does not always equal more therapeutic impact (or more income, for that matter). If you overextend, the quality of your work can suffer due to fatigue. Running beyond capacity can lead to missed clinical cues and a kind of “therapy autopilot” that is ethically concerning. On the other hand, setting a reasonable caseload cap and giving yourself sanctioned time to recharge or handle admin will help you stay effective and enthusiastic. As a bonus, when you’re working within your limits, you’re likely to retain clients and sustain your practice better in the long run – burnout and turnover are a lose-lose for everyone.

5. Plan Regular Time Off and “Breather” Days: After intense periods of work, we all need longer recharge times. Psychologists in crisis roles (disaster response, emergency counselling, etc.) often benefit from rotational time off – for example, not being on crisis call for more than a few weeks without a break, or taking a mental health day after a particularly rough stretch. Even in a normal therapy practice, consider scheduling “lighter” days after you know a heavy day is coming. For instance, if you’re delivering a critical incident debrief on Wednesday night, maybe keep your Thursday schedule lighter or focused on routine follow-ups. Some clinicians go as far as keeping one day completely free of client contact (like no clients on Fridays) to allow for catching up on notes, doing personal study, or simply resting. These “breather days”act as a pressure release valve. Use them to recharge your emotional reserves – whether that’s through professional development (if that energises you), or by taking a proper day off to disconnect from being a psychologist for a while. Remember, rest is a form of productivity in a profession that relies on your mental and emotional presence.

6. Set Clear Boundaries Between Work and Home: In the era of telehealth and constant digital connectivity, it’s easy for work to spill into our personal time. Combat this by creating rituals or signals that work is over. This could be as simple as shutting down your computer and literally closing the office door at a set time, or taking a walk around the block at the end of the workday to simulate a “commute” and clear your head. Avoid the temptation to check emails at 10pm or to squeeze in one more report on a Saturday. Most non-urgent work can wait, and your personal time is sacrosanct. Some psychologists use separate work phones or apps that can be silenced after hours so clients or colleagues don’t intrude on downtime. The Lifeline organisation even encourages its crisis supporters (many of whom are psychologists or counsellors) not to come in for a shift if they’re feeling too emotionally depleted, arguing it’s better to reschedule clients than risk providing subpar care when you’re running on empty. In the same vein, give yourself permission to take mental health days when needed. If you wake up dreading work to the point of tears or feeling physically ill from stress, it’s time to pause and recharge – exactly what we’d advise our clients to do. By building humane schedules and firm work-home boundaries, we reduce chronic stress and create a more sustainable career. In essence, we design our rosters to protect the healer within us.

Prioritising Self-Care and Self-Compassion

We’ve all heard the airline analogy: put on your own oxygen mask before assisting others. In psychology practice, self-care and self-compassion are our oxygen masks. Yet, therapists are sometimes the worst at following the advice we give out daily. It’s time to prioritise caring for ourselves with the same determination that we care for our clients.

Self-Care Basics – Practice What We Preach: Think of the lifestyle pillars we so often discuss in therapy – sleep, exercise, nutrition, social connection, relaxation. Are we attending to those in our own lives? Often during crisis periods, these fundamentals slip. You might notice you’ve been working late and cutting into sleep, skipping exercise because you’re too tired, eating whatever is quick (or forgetting to eat lunch at all), and saying “no” to social invitations because you feel you have nothing left to give. Over time, neglecting these basics erodes our resilience. As one psychologist reflected, the “three tenets of wellbeing” – sleep, exercise, and diet – form the basis of sustainable self-care, and when one is out of alignment the others suffer. The good news is that even small changes can have a positive domino effect. For instance, committing to leaving the office by 6pm twice a week to go to that yoga class or walk the dog can start to restore your sense of balance. Or making a rule to actually take your lunch break (away from the desk, with real food and perhaps sunshine) can prevent the late-afternoon energy crash and mood slump.

Don’t underestimate the power of micro self-care throughout the day. A short mindfulness exercise between sessions, a cup of herbal tea, or a 5-minute stretching routine are not trivial – they are maintenance for your body and mind. And beyond the workday, make time for hobbies and relationships that nourish you. It might feel indulgent when the waiting list is long and the need out there is so great, but remember that sacrificing yourself helps no one in the end. If needed, literally schedule personal activities into your calendar the way you would schedule a client, to ensure they happen. Want to go to that art class on Wednesday nights or have a lazy Sunday morning with family? Book it in and consider it non-negotiable. Your future self (and your clients) will thank you for returning each week a little more replenished.

Self-Compassion – Kindness for the Caregiver: Equally important is how we talk to ourselves and manage the internal pressures we place on our own shoulders. Psychologists are often high achievers and givers who set unrealistically high standards for their work. When things go wrong or when we feel ineffective with a client, the inner critic can be brutal: “You’re a fraud,” “You should be handling this better,”etc. This self-criticism pours gasoline on the fire of burnout. It adds shame and a sense of failure to an already heavy load. Practicing self-compassion means deliberately countering that critical voice with a kinder, more understanding one – essentially treating ourselves as we would treat a dear friend or even a client in the same situation.

Emerging research in Australia has highlighted self-compassion as a powerful protective factor against burnout for therapists. In one study, psychologists who actively cultivated self-compassion showed significantly lower levels of emotional exhaustion. By being gentle with yourself over perceived mistakes or limitations, you reduce the additional stress that comes from perfectionism and self-blame. For example, if you notice you’re feeling ineffective because a patient isn’t improving, instead of berating yourself, a self-compassionate response might be: “I’m doing the best I can in a tough situation; it’s understandable to feel discouraged. What support do I need right now?” This approach doesn’t let you off the hook of responsibility – it simply means acknowledging you’re human and fallible, which paradoxically helps you rebound and problem-solve better. You might realise, from that stance, that perhaps consulting with a colleague or taking a day off to recharge is the kindest and most effective next step.

Practical ways to build self-compassion include mindfulness exercises (to notice when you’re being hard on yourself), writing yourself a compassionate letter or note, and simply allowing “good enough” to replace “perfect” in your vocabulary. Some psychologists put visual reminders in their office, like a small sign that says “You are enough” or a photo that evokes warmth, to cue a self-compassionate mindset during stressful days. The bottom line is that caring for others starts with caring for ourselves without guilt. As the APS puts it, we must remember we are human beings too, with our own vulnerabilities and limits. Embracing that humanity through self-care and self-compassion is not selfish – it’s professional self-maintenance.

Finding Meaning and Sustaining Resilience

Burnout doesn’t just drain our energy; it can drain the meaning and joy we once found in our work. Reigniting that sense of purpose is a potent strategy to combat burnout’s nihilism. Why did you become a psychologist in the first place? What moments in therapy light you up? Reconnecting with these questions can guide you back to “compassion satisfaction,” the term for the fulfillment that comes from helping others.

One way to cultivate this is to reflect on positive outcomes and success stories. Therapists tend to ruminate on the clients who are struggling or the ones we worry we haven’t helped enough, while discounting the many small victories. Make it a practice to occasionally savour the wins: the trauma client who slept through the night for the first time in years, the anxious teenager who found the courage to attend school, or the couple who left your office communicating better. Some psychologists keep a folder of thank-you notes or a journal of positive feedback and breakthroughs, and on tough days, they read through it to remind themselves that their work does matter. This isn’t about ego stroking; it’s about maintaining a balanced perspective and remembering that real healing does happen, often against great odds, and you were a catalyst for it.

Engaging in continuing professional development (CPD) strategically can also rejuvenate your sense of mission. Instead of doing CPD out of obligation, choose trainings or conferences that excite you or spark your curiosity. Learning a new therapeutic approach or skill can bring back the feeling of growth and mastery that counteracts stagnation. It can also make your work feel fresh again. For instance, diving into a workshop on trauma-informed yoga or a new PTSD treatment might give you tools not just to help clients, but also to enrich your own interest and investment in the field. Staying updated with emerging evidence-based practices can reduce the stress of feeling outdated, and it offers new ways to handle tough cases, which can ease the burden on you. Moreover, conferences and courses are opportunities to mingle with peers – a reminder that you’re part of a larger community working toward common goals.

Another emerging concept is fostering vicarious resilience or post-traumatic growth as a therapist. Just as we can absorb trauma from clients, we can also be inspired by their resilience and growth. Make it a point to notice and internally celebrate the strengths and coping that clients demonstrate. Perhaps a client’s perseverance through adversity reminds you of the strength of the human spirit – let that into yourself as much as you guard against letting the trauma in. Some practitioners even engage in a little reflection after a session on “What did I learn from this client today?” – often clients teach us about hope, courage, and recovery. Holding onto these lessons can refill our empathy wells and counterbalance the weight of the suffering we witness.

Finally, consider diversifying your professional roles if possible. If you’re feeling burnt out on therapy sessions, is there a way to incorporate other meaningful activities into your week? This could be supervising a junior psychologist, doing a day of research, teaching a workshop, or working on a community project. A change of pace can provide relief from the intensity of one-on-one client work and remind you of the broader impact of psychology. For example, mentoring new graduates (as in the case of the psychologist from Victoria who took on a role supporting early-career colleagues ) can be energising – their enthusiasm can rub off on you, and guiding others can reignite your own passion. Similarly, engaging in advocacy or systemic work (like contributing to improving services or policy) can give you a sense of contributing to bigger picture solutions, which combats the helplessness that sometimes accompanies burnout.

Vignette: Take the story of “Rob,” a psychologist in private practice who, after 15 years, felt he was just churning through the daily grind of clients with increasing detachment. Rob decided to shake things up: he reduced his client hours from five days a week to four, and on the fifth day he started a side project running mental health workshops at local schools. This change did mean seeing a few fewer clients per week, but in return he found a new spark. Interacting with students in a preventative context reminded him why he entered the field – to make a difference early and share knowledge. The variety and the sense of purpose from his workshops spilled over into his clinical work. He found himself more present and patient with his clients again. By aligning his work with his values (education and prevention), Rob effectively realigned with his purpose, which proved to be a buffer against burnout.

In sustaining resilience, flexibility and self-honesty are key. Our careers are long, and our interests and capacities evolve. Give yourself permission to make adjustments that keep you professionally andpersonally healthy. That might mean saying “no” to taking on an extra client when your caseload is full, or it could mean exploring a niche or format of work that excites you. When you prioritise self-prioritisation (to borrow the term from a recent article ), you’re not abandoning your clients – you’re ensuring you remain in a condition to serve them well. Remember the phrase often attributed to ethical guidelines: “You are the instrument of your work – take care of the instrument.” In fact, maintaining our wellbeing is part of our ethical duty to do no harm, because a burnt-out psychologist is at risk of providing suboptimal care. By keeping ourselves resilient, we uphold our responsibility to our clients and our profession.

Conclusion: Caring for Ourselves as We Care for Others

As psychologists, we spend our days caring for people in distress, helping them heal and build better lives. We give so much of our empathy and expertise to others that it’s all too easy to forget to care for the caregiver. Treating the healer is not a luxury or an afterthought – it’s a necessity. Burnout and vicarious trauma are real, but they are manageable adversaries when we respond with proactive, compassionate strategies.

In this article, we’ve discussed the importance of reflective practice, from journaling about tough sessions to creating rituals that help separate work from home. We’ve highlighted leaning on supervision and peer support as vital lifelines – reminding each other that we’re not alone and that it’s okay to ask for help. Smart roster design and boundary-setting emerged as practical tools to pace ourselves, prevent overload, and inject breathing room into our work lives. Embracing self-care in our personal lives and practicing self-compassion in our inner dialogue form the bedrock of sustaining our mental health. And finally, reconnecting with meaning, diversifying our roles, and celebrating the good in our work can keep the flame of passion burning even after long stints in the darkness of crisis and trauma work.

If there is one message to take away, it is that your wellbeing is not ancillary to the job – it is integral to being effective at the job. By taking care of yourself, you are not only preventing harm to you, but also ensuring better outcomes for your clients in the long run. We must dispel the martyr myth in psychology that says we must always put ourselves last. Instead, let’s model the balance we encourage in our clients: seeking support, setting limits, and honouring our own humanity.

To all my colleagues in public mental health and private practice: you have weathered immense challenges in recent years. Take a moment to acknowledge that. It’s okay if you’re tired; it’s understandable if you’ve felt overwhelmed. Now, give yourself permission to prioritise your healing. As we treat the healer within, we not only enrich our own lives but also renew our capacity to be the skilled, compassionate professionals our communities need. In caring for ourselves, we ensure that we can continue the work we love – sustainably, ethically, and joyfully – for many years to come.

Remember, you are not just a provider of healing, you deserve healing too. Let’s commit to making that a professional priority moving forward. Together, supporting each other, we can turn the tide on psychologist burnout and keep our workforce healthy, inspired, and ready for whatever challenges come next.

Sources

1. Australian Psychological Society – Self-care for psychology professionals during the pandemic

2. Australian Psychological Society – Self-care for psychologists: Lifeline’s learnings

3. Blueprint (Vivian Chung Easton, LMFT) – Caseload Structuring and Emotional Energy Planning for Therapists

4. Global Health Education (Elise Cowley) – What’s causing burnout in psychologists?

5. The Guardian–Inside the burnout among Australia’s psychologists