For a lot of families, the idea of a regular family dinner feels unrealistic. Between work, school, sport, homework, activities, and general fatigue at the end of the day, eating together can feel like just another thing to organise. And sometimes eating separately is simply what works.

But there is something clinically meaningful about families sitting down together, even if it’s not frequent, long, or particularly calm.

Over the past few years, many of the people who come into my clinic for help with anxiety and OCD arrive with a diagnosis they have given themselves. They have watched dozens of short videos online. They have saved posts. They have followed creators who speak about mental health. They have taken quizzes. They have recognised parts of themselves in what they have seen.

Most of us don’t need to be told that technology plays a big role in our lives. It helps us work, connect, learn, unwind, and stay organised. For many people, it’s genuinely supportive and often essential. But there’s a growing awareness, both clinically and culturally, that being constantly connected can come with costs that aren’t always obvious until we slow down enough to notice them.

Summer has a way of being sold to us as the season where everything should feel easier. The days are longer, the weather is kinder, routines loosen, and there’s this unspoken assumption that we should feel lighter, happier, more social, and more alive simply because the sun is out a bit longer.

There’s pressure to “make the most of it”. Pressure to fill calendars, to travel, to catch up with everyone you didn’t see during the year, to enjoy yourself properly before life ramps up again. For many people, summer quietly becomes another performance, another thing to get right, another season where you can feel as though you’re falling short if your energy, mood, or capacity doesn’t match the expectation.

You show up to work. You answer emails. You remember birthdays, make jokes in the group chat, and smile when the barista hands you your coffee. You seem “fine.” You seem “together.” You even tell yourself that you’re doing okay—after all, you’re still functioning.

As the calendar edges toward December, many of us start feeling the weight of the year. You’re not imagining it—the end of the year can genuinely be tough to manage, emotionally and mentally. Despite all the festive marketing and holiday cheer, it’s also a time when burnout, overwhelm, and emotional fatigue quietly set in.

So, why is this time of year particularly draining?