Grief is such a strange and funny thing. Grief doesn’t wait for your schedule to be clear. It doesn’t wait for it to be a convenient time. It doesn’t go away just because you have responsibilities or clients to see. It is always there, and it will always be there. Grief has become part of my story, and it sits next to me in most sessions. Not as a burden, but as a quiet companion and has taught me so much. Here are some thoughts I’ve been having as a human being who is also a therapist and experiencing the loss of her mother.
The Dual Reality of Grief and Therapy
I’ve noticed a trend, where therapists are often seen as “the ones who have it all together”, but in reality, we are just as human as the people sitting on the couch across from us. We don’t necessarily “have it all together”, but rather, working each day to do the best we can, just like the clients we see. We’re not much different. When I’m sitting with a human who is grieving, I’ve noticed that their pain mirrors mine. At first, this scared the crap out of me, because in school we learned that counter transference is a big no no. Sometimes it feels like a silent nudge, and sometimes it feels like an entire wave swallowing me up, and yet, there is something so special about this shared experience. How honored I feel, that I get to sit with you in some of your hardest moments, and witness not only your life, but also your strength, resiliency and growth. I’ve noticed that with experiencing a tremendous loss, comes a greater sense of empathy for others. Instead of quickly accommodating a solution focused model, I shift to a more silent approach. Sometimes the most healing thing I can do for my clients is simply acknowledge the pain, and internally recognize that I feel the pain too. How special it is, that we get to sit in the pain together.
What I’ve Learned
Losing my mother has taught me more than any textbook or class could have ever taught me. It taught me that grief is certainly not linear but an ongoing experience. It constantly reminds you that it’s still there with every birthday, every anniversary, every life moment, every time the wind blows, and the sun rises. Grief doesn’t respect timelines and when someone says to you “oh, you’re still not over that?”, honestly fuck that and fuck them because NO I’m not over it and I will never be over it, because, there is no right way to grieve. There is no timeline. We don’t overcome the grief, or move on from it, instead, we learn to live with it and move with it. Grief was once described to me as keeping a stone or a rock in your pocket. It is always there and heavy at first, but becomes lighter each day we carry it. You adapt to its heavy weight, and in that adaptation, comes healing. Grief has taught me that healing does not mean forgetting, and that love and loss can exist at the same time.
Setting Boundaries with compassion
Part of navigating grief as a human who is a therapist has meant setting firmer boundaries, and maybe, this means the same for you. For me, these boundaries may look like rescheduling a client, giving myself the space to feel every emotion, taking a day off when that rock feels a little heavier to carry around, saying “no”, or asking for support from others more than I ever have. Let’s not get this confused with weakness, because it’s not, it’s honest and raw self care and self compassion. I’ve also learned to trust that clients benefit much more from having an honest therapist, rather than a perfectly composed one. I don’t need to perform well, I just need to show up, be present, of course be ethical, but most importantly, real.
Closing Thoughts
Therapists are not exempt from the very struggles we help others navigate. We are not outside the human experience, we are deeply and so intensely in it. And if you are my client reading this, know that I am still here with you. My grief does not take away from your space and time, it reminds me, just how sacred this space is. I show up for you because I care, not because I am unaffected. I show up because I believe so deeply about the power of human connection, especially in times of pain.