By Ross Hendrickson

Not long ago I had one of those parenting moments that could have easily been turned into a sitcom scene. I was driving with my kids in the backseat when a full-scale argument broke out over something very important: who got the blue water bottle and who got stuck with the green one. By the time we were two blocks from home, voices had risen to Broadway levels, and I was gripping the steering wheel like I was piloting an airplane through a thunderstorm. I opened my mouth to deliver a calm, wise lecture, but what came out was more like, “For the love of all that is holy, stop fighting about water bottles!” As soon as the words left my mouth, I could hear myself sounding like every frazzled parent who swore they would never lose it over the little stuff.

The car got quiet for about seven seconds before someone muttered, “But I like blue better.” At that moment I realized something important: my kids were not melting down because of the water bottles. They were melting down because the emotional temperature in the car was already hot, and I was not exactly modeling Olympic-level composure. They were feeding off of me. And as much as I wanted to believe their bickering was the whole problem, the truth was that I was not okay either.

That is the reality for most parents. Children are mirrors of the emotional world around them. When parents are anxious, kids act out. When parents are stressed, kids often become clingy or withdrawn. When parents are emotionally disconnected from each other, children sense it even if no one says a word. You might not think your child notices the sighs at dinner or the way you and your spouse avoid eye contact after an argument, but they do. And they carry it.

The statement “your kids aren’t okay because you’re not okay” can sound harsh, almost like a parental report card with a big red F on it. But I want you to hear it differently. This is not about judgment. It is about connection. Children do not need perfect parents. They need parents who are willing to admit when they are struggling and take steps toward health.

Growing up in the 1980s, therapy was something only “other” people did. If you knew a kid in counseling, the whispers started immediately. As a child dealing with anxiety and probably some ADHD, I learned quickly that the acceptable strategy was to keep quiet, tough it out, and hope nobody noticed how overwhelmed I felt. My parents did their best with what they knew, but the cultural message was clear: therapy was for people who were broken beyond repair. Fast forward to today, and we know better. Therapy is not about being broken; it is about maintenance. Just as you take your car in for oil changes and your teeth in for cleanings, you take your emotions in for a tune-up.

That is why I tell parents that when they get help for themselves, they are not being selfish. They are setting the tone for the entire family. Children watch everything. When they see you pause to breathe instead of blow up, they learn calm is possible. When they see you apologize after snapping, they learn humility. When they see you seek therapy, they learn that asking for help is strength, not weakness.

I often meet parents who walk into therapy burdened with shame. They are convinced they have already ruined their children. They imagine their child’s future therapist taking notes about “the mom who never had it together” or “the dad who yelled too much.” What usually happens, however, is that once parents begin to acknowledge their own struggles and take steps toward health, the entire home environment begins to shift.

One couple I worked with had a daughter whose anxiety seemed unmanageable. She was missing school, having stomachaches every morning, and refusing to sleep in her own bed. The parents came to therapy thinking their daughter was the problem. What they discovered is that their constant conflict with each other was fueling her anxiety. Once they began to repair their own relationship and create more peace at home, her symptoms decreased dramatically. She did not need her parents to be perfect. She needed them to be present with each other.

Another mom came in for therapy because her teenage son was angry all the time. Every interaction seemed to end in yelling. Through our work together, she realized that she was battling her own depression, which left her emotionally unavailable. As she began individual counseling and slowly found her footing again, her son’s anger outbursts lessened. He was not simply a difficult teen. He was reflecting the emptiness he felt from his mom’s absence. Once she became more emotionally available, his heart softened.

This is the ripple effect of parental health. When parents are emotionally regulated, kids feel safe. When couples learn to repair conflict, kids breathe easier. When families learn to admit struggles, kids learn that imperfection is not the enemy. The family becomes a place of safety rather than stress.

The danger of the perfection myth is that it convinces parents they have to get everything right. The reality is kids do not need flawless homes. They need homes where mistakes are admitted, apologies are given, and growth is modeled. Children are resilient, but they are also deeply intuitive. They notice when you are hiding your stress. They notice when your laughter feels forced. And they notice when you finally decide to face your struggles head-on. That is when they exhale.

So what does it look like to take care of yourself for your kids’ sake? Sometimes it is as simple as admitting you are not okay and taking one small step. It might be starting therapy, joining a support group, or even scheduling a regular walk where you can clear your head. It might be having that difficult conversation with your spouse instead of sweeping it under the rug. It might be asking a friend to watch your kids so you can take a nap without guilt. These small steps create large shifts in the home.

I cannot promise that your kids will never argue over water bottles again. Mine still do. But what I can promise is that when you are calmer, more connected, and more intentional, the battles will not define the household. Your kids will begin to see that even in stress, their parents can handle emotions with honesty and care. That gives them permission to do the same.

Here is the bottom line: your kids are not okay because you are not okay, but that is not a condemnation. It is a call to courage. It is an invitation to take care of yourself so your children can thrive. It is a reminder that the best gift you can give your kids is not perfection but presence.

So give yourself permission to seek help. Take the counseling appointment. Read the book. Pray. Journal. Rest. Do whatever helps you breathe again. Your kids do not need a flawless version of you. They need the real you, willing to grow and heal. They need to know that being human is enough. And yes, sometimes they need you to let them eat cereal for dinner while you put your feet up and laugh at the absurdity of it all. That is not failure. That is family.