The Bad Therapist
Choosing authenticity over my profession...oops?
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There’s something I’ve been wanting to write about for a long time but I’ve kept putting it off. Ignoring the hints and signs that told me that I need to get this out into the world.
I think it’s time to practice what I preach.
Move towards the things you’re resisting, Eliza. Let it happen.
How many times have I said that to my clients?
So here it is.
Sometimes I hate being a therapist.
Let me be more specific. I love my job. So much. I love my clients. Truly. Deeply.
What I sometimes hate is not my job. What I sometimes hate is being a therapist and what being a therapist means in today’s world.
Last September I sat next to a stranger at my high school friend’s wedding reception. We were getting along swimmingly, filling up each other’s glasses of wine and sharing funny memories of the newlyweds. Then the inevitable question came.
“So, what do you do for work?”
His entire body dropped as I stated my occupation. An ever so subtle look of terror swept across his face.
“Oh no, so you’ve been like, totally psychoanalyzing me this whole time, haven’t you?” His tone was the shade of sarcasm meant to hide the dire seriousness of the inquiry.
I could almost hear his internal dialogue. She thinks I’m an alcoholic. She thinks I’m a bad husband. She’s judging how I’m interacting with my toddler right now. She has special therapist glasses that can see into my soul and pull out all my deepest darkest secrets.
I assured him that I left my therapist “hat” at home, but we were never able to fully recover.
What I sometimes hate is not my job. What I sometimes hate is being a therapist, and what being a therapist means in today’s world.
Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis and one of the grandfathers of therapy, spoke in depth about the need for the therapist to remain a “blank slate” to their clients. His belief was that in order to provide effective treatment, the experiences of the therapist and client should be kept completely separate. In other words, it was the therapist’s responsibility to build an opaque wall between themselves and their clients to stay objective and impartial.
More modern frameworks advise therapists to use self-disclosure sparingly and judiciously to avoid potential risks, in which there are several. Perhaps the most important risk to consider is how a personal share might shift the inherent power dynamics in a therapeutic relationship; too much self-disclosure might make the client feel obligated to or dependent on the therapist. These risks should be taken very seriously to minimize the chance of harm or ineffective treatment. I believe that wholeheartedly, and I adhere to these ethical standards to the best of my ability.
On the flip side, there are some benefits of self-disclosure when used tactfully. These include building trust and rapport with a client, normalizing an experience if a therapist can relate to what the client is sharing, and deepening the connection to ultimately facilitate a more effective therapeutic process.
We can all agree that therapists need to be discerning about self-disclosure while working within a therapeutic relationship.
What I did not anticipate when I began as a therapist, though, is how these ethical standards and more archaic (not to mention unrealistic) beliefs around therapists needing to be separate from others would dictate how I’m able to interact with others outside of the therapeutic room.
Freud’s emphasis on pure “analytic neutrality” has transcended into the zeitgeist in a way that has kept helping professionals siloed and scared to express an identity beyond that of therapist. This has caused many therapists to shy away from self-expression, at least in any public sort of way.
This is problematic on many levels, but the one that frustrates me the most is when showing up authentically as a therapist is in direct conflict with showing up authentically as a human being. What’s more, it’s interesting when I try to show up as a human being but get put back into the therapist box by others.
When talking to other therapists, the questions that comes up most often is, how much can I publicly share of myself without scaring away current or potential clients? Am I breaking any ethical boundaries by sharing more personal things on social media, substack, or any other platform?
Fellow substack writer and author of the book Already Enough
has shared her journey through these murky waters. She worked as a therapist for years before giving it up completely to feel more free in her artistic and creative endeavors. I don’t want to speak for her, but it seemed that the role of therapist began to get in the way of the truest expression of herself. She no longer wanted to sacrifice her authenticity for any perceived authoritative knowledge of the human experience that often comes with the title of therapist.I get it, and I’ve spoken to dozens of other therapists who feel the same internal struggle.
There are things I’d love to write about and share with you all. Things that I want to share as a human being who has suffered and moved through traumas that felt unsurmountable. Things that I want to share from the parts of myself that identify as artist, daughter, friend, sister, wife. I try my hardest to invite all these parts into this newsletter, but I’d be lying if I said that Freud’s imaginary wall doesn’t get in the way sometimes.
A few months ago I was in an online writing class hosted by another big-name writer with a weekly newsletter on Substack. In a zoom room of nearly 200 people (with dozens of other therapists present), I asked the writer for any advice on how to write personally and honestly as a therapist, and shared that I often struggle with showing up truly authentically in my writing because of my job title.
Instead of encouraging me to show up as, first and foremost, a human being , they dismissively said that they would “never” read a newsletter from their therapist, and that they liked “not knowing anything about their therapist,” despite working with them for “over 5 years.”
Although their response made me feel shitty, it also confirmed my intuitive sense that there is something seriously wrong with our cultural beliefs around therapists. There’s a part of our collective consciousness that doesn’t want our therapists to show up in the world as fully human. We don’t want to see our therapists as whole, vulnerable, and complex human beings who, just like us, are trying to navigate the messiness of the human condition. There’s a pressure for therapists to identify themselves as their job title, all the time.
We live in a culture that prefers, dare I say encourages, the therapist to stay behind the opaque wall so that we can ignore the truth that is often too uncomfortable to accept: when it comes to the human condition, there are no experts. No person who is perfect. No gurus with all the answers. No such thing as objectivity between two people with a whole lifetime of experiences held in their bodies and minds.
Maybe it’s this collective avoidance of our inherent complexities and imperfections that makes authentic creative expression and being a therapist seem in opposition to each other. Maybe it’s what makes all of us feel like our identities need to be packaged into neat little boxes instead of marveling in all the multitudes we contain.
I know I could start another substack or some other creative endeavor where I take my therapist hat off completely and create more freely. I know there are people who see me as more than just a therapist. I also champion the importance of ethical boundaries and standards within a therapeutic relationship that I agreed to uphold when I pursued this profession.
And also…
I have to believe there is a world where every single one of us can show up authentically and wholly at all times, no matter what roles we play. I fight for the world where we can all embody Ram Dass’ wise words, “we’re all just walking each other home,” without the need for any one person to hold authoritative knowledge on the human condition.
I’m hopeful seeing other therapists writing and sharing vulnerably and creatively. Surely they’re grappling with some of these same questions that I am, but they’re choosing to pick away at the opaque wall one word at a time, anyway.
May this be an invitation for everyone to get curious about which hats might be keeping you from your most authentic expression of your Self. Can you invite in more of yourself even when wearing those hats?
I’ll see you in the comments,
The human first, therapist second part
Extra Tidbits and resources
Earlier in the week I asked this question on my notes to fellow therapists: Do you sometimes feel like your “creative hat” and your “therapist hat” are in opposition to each other? I’m so grateful to everyone who answered thoughtfully.
- ’s supervisor gave the advice “go wild instead of tame.” I think that’s probably good advice for anyone starting on their creative journey, don’t you think?
- shared that her creative self has “come through in [her] therapeutic work” with the practice of leaving any sort of agenda at the door. I agree, there is a trust in the process that is required for effective therapeutic work to be done that can be compared to the creative process. Maybe the healing process and the creative process are actually one in the same?
- compared these two parts as “really close siblings.” Sometimes they fight, and sometimes they get along. When we can parent these parts of our Selves, we can find out what they need to help them work together.
- shared that she’s feeling herself shifting away from wearing the “therapist hat” because she’s wanting to be more honest in what she shares.
Journal Prompts
Which “hats” or roles do you wear that get in the way of your creativity or truest expression of yourself?
Why do these two things feel in opposition to each other?
Do the roles you play or identify with feel more like containers in which you can move in and out of, or more like boxes that feel confining? How so?
- ’s piece on What People Need
I loved the thorough breakdown of the ego and all it’s meanings from
in her piece “Understanding The Ego's states, roles and stages in Psychology. Self-Ego Spiritual Axis: Transcending to a Higher Self.”
Agreed Sean, the more experiential models invite in more authenticity and connection, which is promising ☺️
Thank you for tagging me in this -- so resonant in many ways, and interestingly enough, I'm near ready to step back into therapy work soon after taking full permission to step away. The fluidity of our identities and tethering to our full humanity is so, so necessary. I appreciate this share! xx