Coping with Grief, Burnout, and Uncertainty in 2025: A Therapist’s Reflection

by Yessenia Guglielmi | Feb 3, 2025 | article

Coping with Mental Health Challenges in 2025

It was the Facebook post that got to me. In a private group for therapists—a space for support and shared struggles—someone posed a simple yet loaded question: “How’s everyone coping?” The poster, a queer woman living in the South, shared how difficult it has been treating LGBTQ+ clients while also managing her own fears. She admitted that her usual coping skills weren’t enough lately. I sighed in recognition of the weight behind her words.

As I contemplated my response, my daughter walked in to tell me that her friend had decided to drop out of high school, just four months shy of graduation. It had been a tough time for them, and at that moment, I searched for the right thing to say.

I asked if I could speak to this friend, and my daughter agreed. She even suggested we all go out for dinner to talk. I smiled and said yes, that it would be nice. Being her mother, I encouraged her to ask them to reconsider. I talked about the importance of honoring commitments, of being accountable and responsible. She shrugged, unsure. Later, I told my husband about the conversation and how I was struggling to find the right words—for the friend, for my daughter, and even for myself.

Therapist Burnout: Recognizing the Signs and Finding Strength

Eventually, I replied to the Facebook post. I shared that I too felt like I was grappling with life and had decided to pause my transgender support group. My cup was empty. Earlier that day, after visiting my father, I even considered taking a two-year break from counseling if he passes away. My father is coping with heart failure and stage 4 kidney failure. When I saw him, he looked tired. Still, he got up and sat with me, letting his fatigue wait. On the table was his pillbox, a reminder of the relentless cycle of illness. Watching a parent near the end of their life is a grief unlike any other. And yet, I have to hold all of this while the world keeps moving. During the pandemic, my motto was “The show must go on.” I got up every morning, focused on my work, my family. I made sure the kids were logged into Zoom classes, wiped down groceries with my husband, anxiously stocked Lysol and hand sanitizer. I watched CNN’s death toll graphs, terrified of losing my parents. When they survived, I thanked God. But my grief had started before the pandemic—watching children in cages, families being separated, feeling the world unravel. That grief still sits in the center of my chest, reignited by new uncertainties and fears.

The Emotional Toll of Grief and How to Navigate It

Grief is like a strong repellant, something people avoid, as if it’s contagious. But it’s inevitable. We all carry it. In Mexico, we celebrate death to cope, to remember that our loved ones mattered. Their lives had an impact. We honor them.

At 3:30 in the morning, I finally broke. Tears streamed down my face as I asked God for more time with my father, for patience with my daughters, for safety for my loved ones here and abroad. I thought about people returning to rubble in Gaza, families reuniting with hostages, the ongoing war in Ukraine, the communities rebuilding after disasters in North Carolina and California. I prayed for them too.

And then I thought about my own commitments. The advice I gave my daughter about her friend suddenly felt heavy. I know so many of us are tired. We worked through the pandemic with so much fear. Where is that sense of resolution I once had? How do I find the strength again? During COVID, I doubled my patient load, extended my hours, poured myself into my work. I don’t know if I have that in me anymore.

I remembered my father’s kidney doctor, how exhausted she looked at his last appointment. Just before the holidays, she admitted to both of us how difficult the year had been for her. I wish I had told her how much her care meant to us. I know I thanked her, but I wish I had said more—that her work had a ripple effect, that she mattered.

Why ‘Échale Ganas’ Matters in Times of Crisis

Maybe I’m not depleted after all. The dictionary defines depletion as “empty of a principal substance, to lessen markedly in quality, content, power, or value.” But that’s not me. My soul is intact. I have not lessened in value. I refuse to use that word to define what I’m feeling. If I feel grief, it’s because I am alive. And if that is true, then so is the possibility of hope and healing.

I know hard times are ahead. My father’s illness will progress. The world will continue to break in ways that shatter us. My work will remain challenging. But I realized that my father doesn’t take his medication just for himself. He takes it for me. Every day, he chooses to keep going despite the pain. It’s the phone calls, the visits, the kindness that matter most.

As my tías and mother always say, “Échale ganas.” It means to give it your all, to push forward with determination. When I was young and complained about homework, my mother would say it. Now, at almost fifty, the words carry a deeper weight. I will give it my best effort, just as my father is doing now. Just as my tía did before she passed, holding on not for herself, but for her family.

These are the seeds we sow, the strength we pass to the next generation. Like the families rebuilding in Gaza, Ukraine, California, and North Carolina, we rebuild, too. It’s an act of love.

Let’s Keep Going: Share Your Story

Let’s share in that strength. Let’s be kinder, more patient. Let’s not give up. Échale ganas. #mentalhealthmatters #therapistthoughts #healingjourney #selfcare #therapistburnout #compassionfatigue #griefsupport #copingwithloss #healingthroughgrief #resilience #EchaleGanas #latinastrength #mexicanheritage #culturalwisdom #innerstrength #2025 #lifein2025 #personalgrowth #mindfulnessmatters #hopeandhealing #keepgoing #therapistlife #personalgrowth #lifechallenges #selfcare #burnoutprevention

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