By: A Slightly Unraveled, Occasionally Wise Therapist
Every week, my inbox fills with sunshine.
Photos of glowing faces. Updates from weddings, new careers, babies, books published, yoga teacher certifications, retreats to Bali (jealous, but proud).
Messages like:
“I wouldn’t be here without your help.”
“You changed my life.”
“I finally feel free.”
I read them with pride, a full heart… and, occasionally, a slightly twitching eyelid.
Because while my clients are out there manifesting joy, building empires, finding peace, I’m in my kitchen wondering why my inner child insists on eating biscuits at 2 a.m. and crying at dog commercials.
I’m so proud of them.
Truly. Deeply. Fully.
They put in the work. They sat in the mess, screamed into pillows, wrote the letters they’d never send, cried into tissues I paid for, and learned to love the reflection in the mirror.
I was the catalyst. The midwife of their emotional rebirth. The one who held the torch while they trudged through their inner wilderness.
And now?
Well… now it’s my turn.
Therapist, Heal Thyself
Let me be honest.
Healing others? Rewarding. Fulfilling. Dare I say, satisfying.
Healing yourself?
A bit like trying to perform open-heart surgery on yourself with a butter knife and a YouTube tutorial.
Suddenly all those compassionate, wise words you so lovingly offered others sound suspiciously… annoying.
- “Go gently with yourself.”
Yes, well, gently went out the window when I look at the lawyers letters he has sent. - “You’re allowed to rest.”
But how can I rest when my brain insists on giving a TED Talk at 3am on every bad decision I’ve ever made? - “Boundaries are love.”
Cool. Tell that to my guilt complex who thinks saying “no” is a crime against humanity.
The Irony Is Delicious
It’s ironic, isn’t it?
We spend years becoming nervous system whisperers, learning to regulate, co-regulate, polyvagal-this and trauma-informed-that — and yet when we spiral, we forget our own grounding techniques.
I once had to Google “breathing exercises for panic attacks” during… a panic attack.
I teach breathwork.
But Here’s the Beautiful Bit
As a therapist, I’ve learned something sacred:
Healing is a circle.
I was there to walk beside my clients until they could walk alone. And now, they remind me — without even knowing — that I, too, am worthy of that same gentle walk.
Their stories of survival and joy whisper back to me,
“It’s your turn now.”
“You helped us — now let life help you.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time I sit on the other side of the proverbial couch.
Because even therapists need a therapist.
Even healers need healing.
Even the strongest of trees need watering.
So, Here’s to the Work We’re All Still Doing
To the moments when I celebrate a client’s graduation from therapy with a metaphorical glass of champagne (okay, sometimes literal)… and then stare into the existential abyss of my own healing with a face mask and a biscuit.
To the messy, beautiful paradox of being both guide and wanderer.
To the wild, wonderful truth that helping others doesn’t exempt us from our own work — but it does mean we believe in the power of transformation.
Because I’ve seen it.
Week after week.
Photo after photo.
Testimony after testimony.
And if healing is possible for them…
Then it’s possible for me, too.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a therapy session scheduled.
Client name: Me.
Diagnosis: Burnout, biscuit addiction, and chronic over-giving.
Treatment plan: Laughter. Rest. Self-kindness. And maybe Bali.
