Therapists hold space for others all day long. We listen deeply, regulate our nervous systems while co-regulating others’, and offer empathy, insight, and presence—sometimes back to back for eight hours straight. We are trained to support our clients through pain, resistance, growth, and breakthroughs. But even with all the knowledge and skill in the world, therapists are still human. And humans need reminders.
Not everything has to be a new skill or tool. Sometimes, what we need most is a gentle reminder—one that reconnects us to why we do this work and how we take care of ourselves while doing it. Whether you’re fresh out of grad school or a seasoned clinician who’s seen a thing or two, these reminders are here to ground you.
You are not your client’s progress.
It’s easy to tie your worth as a therapist to how “well” your clients are doing. When a client is thriving, you might feel proud. When one is stuck or disengaged, you might feel discouraged or even question your competence. But healing is not linear, and it’s not a direct reflection of you. Your job is to show up, attune, and offer the best care you can—not to control outcomes.
You don’t need to have the perfect response.
Therapists are sometimes expected to say The Exact Right Thing at The Exact Right Time. But in real life? Sometimes the most healing thing we can do is pause, reflect, or even say, “I don’t know, but I’d like to think through that with you.” Therapy isn’t about perfect scripts—it’s about presence, repair, and connection.
Your nervous system matters, too.
Compassion fatigue, vicarious trauma, and burnout don’t always knock loudly when they arrive. Sometimes they whisper through body aches, reduced patience, or that creeping Sunday dread. Your regulated nervous system is a tool in the room—just as important as your training or theoretical orientation. It’s not indulgent to rest. It’s necessary.
Not every session has to be profound.
Some sessions feel like breakthroughs. Others feel like a long walk on a treadmill. Both are valid. Holding space consistently—even when it feels mundane—is a profound act in and of itself. Clients may not always articulate it, but the quiet consistency of your presence can be a game changer.
Therapeutic alliance is powerful, but boundaries are sacred.
The connection you build with clients is meaningful. But so is the boundary that holds the work. You are not their friend, and that’s not a bad thing. The therapeutic frame offers safety, clarity, and containment—and it’s what allows clients to take you off the pedestal and do the real work.
You’re allowed to have favorite modalities—and still be flexible.
It’s okay if EMDR lights you up or DBT makes your brain feel organized. But part of being an effective therapist is knowing when to pivot. Clients aren’t worksheets, and therapy isn’t one-size-fits-all. The art is in knowing when to lean in and when to let go of the plan.
Supervision (or consultation) isn’t just for interns.
Even experienced therapists benefit from thoughtful feedback and collaborative problem-solving. Sometimes just saying something out loud to another clinician can unstick a situation or shift your perspective. Community is part of ethical care.
You don’t have to know it all.
This work asks a lot of us, and no one can hold every theory, diagnosis, and niche issue in their heads all the time. It’s okay to Google. It’s okay to ask colleagues. It’s okay to say, “I’ll look into that and follow up next session.” Staying curious is part of staying competent.
These reminders don’t mean you’re doing something wrong—they mean you’re human. They’re here to support you in the in-between moments, the sessions that don’t go as planned, the seasons where you’re feeling disconnected from your purpose. We’re not just clinicians. We’re whole people doing deeply human work. And that deserves care, too.
