Stepping out of graduate school and into the professional world is often described as exciting, overwhelming, and transformative—but no one really prepares you for how all of those emotions can exist at the same time. As I near the end of my year and a half as a therapy intern, I find myself sitting in the tension between what has been and what is coming next. Like many new clinicians in their twenties, I’m navigating the intersection of academic demands, early career pressures, and the everyday challenges of becoming an adult in real time. There’s no neatly mapped-out plan waiting for me after this internship ends, and while that uncertainty brings its own anxiety, it also feels like an invitation to trust myself in a way I haven’t been asked to before. Graduate school offers structure. So does internship. You always know what the next step is, even if you’re exhausted or unsure. But the transition into the post-masters world feels different. It’s less like following a recipe and more like walking into a kitchen full of ingredients and being told, “Okay—go make your own dish.” There’s freedom in that, but also fear. I’ve spent so long learning the theories, practicing the skills, and showing up for clients week after week that I almost forget I’m allowed to dream about what I want my professional life to look like. I’m learning that this stage is less about having the perfect plan and more about developing the confidence to take the next right step, even if it feels blurry at the edges.
Being in my twenties while navigating this transition adds another layer of complexity. This is a decade already filled with moves, relationship shifts, identity questions, financial stress, and an overall sense that everyone else seems to know what they’re doing. Meanwhile, I’ve often found myself balancing developmental milestones—like trying to make new friends,, figuring out a budget, or learning how to cook something besides pasta—alongside the emotional labor of being a therapist in training. There were days when I would leave a session reflecting on trauma, grief, or anxiety alongside a client, only to go home and face my own very normal twenty-something struggles. It can be humbling to hold two truths at once: that I am a source of grounding for my clients, and also a human who doesn’t always have the answers for myself.
But the beauty of this transition, and what has surprised me most, is how profoundly my clients have influenced me. We talk a lot in training about the impact therapists have on clients, but far less about how clients shape us. Over the last year and a half, I’ve had the privilege of witnessing resilience, vulnerability, humor, and honesty in ways that have shifted me personally and professionally. I’ve watched clients take risks, sit with discomfort, explore their identities, set boundaries, and show up on days when everything in them wanted to avoid. Their courage has challenged me to examine the areas in my own life where I avoid uncertainty or cling too tightly to control. Their willingness to trust me reminded me to trust myself. And their progress, even the small moments, reinforced the truth that growth is rarely linear, but always meaningful.
If I’ve learned anything through this internship, it’s that becoming a therapist is less about arriving at a destination and more about evolving over time. The early phases of this work teach you the technical pieces—assessment, interventions, documentation—but the deeper learning comes from sitting in the room week after week, building relationships that teach you patience, humility, attunement, and presence. I’ve learned how important it is to take care of myself so I can care for others. I’ve learned the value of supervision and the power of asking for help. I’ve learned that the “perfect” session isn’t what clients remember, but instead what matters is authenticity.
There are also undeniable positives to this moment of transition. With the end of internship comes a newfound sense of independence. The chance to craft a professional identity, choose the kind of work environment I want, and step into a version of myself that reflects the skills, insights, and confidence that I’ve gained. There’s pride in knowing I’ve completed something incredibly demanding. There’s excitement about building a caseload that aligns with my passions. There’s relief in the possibility of settling into a schedule that feels more consistent and sustainable after years of juggling school, sports, jobs, hours, classes, and life. Still, I’m learning to give myself grace in the uncertainty. It’s okay that I don’t have a perfectly polished plan for what comes next. It’s okay that I feel both ready and not ready at the same time. This transition is not a test I need to ace, but rather a season of becoming. And if my clients have taught me anything, it’s that clarity comes from movement, not from standing still. So as I step out of my internship and into the next chapter, I’m holding onto the gratitude, the pride, the sadness of closing a meaningful chapter, and the excitement of what might unfold. I may not know exactly where I’m going yet, but I know who I’ve become along the way, and that feels like the strongest foundation I could have ever asked for.