A Dose of Cynthia: Therapists Aren’t Immune
Here’s the thing nobody really says out loud: therapists are not immune to the world falling apart. October 2025? Absolute chaos. Politics are a mess, the environment’s screaming, money feels like sand slipping through your fingers, and social issues are coming at us like dodgeballs. And I don’t get to stand on the sidelines with a clipboard, analyzing it all in perfect calm. Nope. I’m in it too.
I know there’s this myth floating around that therapists live in some Zen bubble, sipping chamomile tea, immune to stress because we “know all the skills.” Ha. If only. You think I’m not rage-scrolling the headlines sometimes? You think I don’t lose sleep over the state of the world? You think my grocery bill magically doesn’t stress me out because I know grounding exercises? I wish.
The difference isn’t that I don’t feel it. The difference is that I try — emphasis on try — to practice the same stuff I hand to you. Sometimes well, sometimes badly, sometimes with a lot of sarcasm in between. Because skills are not a magic wand. They’re tools. And like any tools, you have to actually pick them up and use them, even when you’d rather just throw the whole toolbox out the window.
Here’s me being real: when someone asks, “How are you?” I don’t always sugarcoat it. Sometimes I say, “I’m tired.” Sometimes it’s, “Honestly? Heavy.” Sometimes it’s, “I’m okay, but it’s an okay that comes with footnotes.” I’ve had to reframe the question for myself. Not just, “How are you?” but, “How am I managing today? What feels steady? What’s weighing me down?” It’s not about putting a shiny bow on it. It’s about being honest enough to not gaslight myself into pretending it’s fine when it’s not.
And boundaries? Oh, I live and die by them. Do I succeed every day? Absolutely not. But I practice. For example, I don’t need to read every single article about every single crisis. That’s not being informed — that’s being marinated in anxiety. I pick a couple solid sources, I catch the big picture, and then I shut it off. Because my nervous system doesn’t need to be a 24/7 newsroom.
Self-care for me isn’t bubble baths and spa days (though hey, if that’s your thing, go for it). It’s structure. It’s writing little letters from my future self that say, “You’re going to make it through this week, stop catastrophizing.” It’s planning something — even something small — that reminds me life is not just work and chaos. It’s routines that ground me when the rest of the world feels like quicksand.
And let’s talk about flexible thinking, because my brain, like yours, loves the extremes. It loves, “We’re doomed!” or, “Everything’s fine!” Neither is true. So I map it out. I draw the line from all-or-nothing, and I force myself to ask, “Okay, what’s in between?” Spoiler: almost everything lives in between.
And maybe the hardest part: I tell people my limits out loud. I say to clients, to friends, “I’ll show up, but not endlessly.” Because I’ve learned the hard way that endless is a fantasy that ends in resentment and exhaustion. Boundaries don’t make me less connected. They make me sustainably connected.
Now, here’s where I’ll be honest again — sometimes I blow it. I doomscroll way too long. I take on more than I should. I push past my own exhaustion like I’m superhuman. I let my routines slide. And then? I start over. I try again. Because the point was never perfection. The point is practice. The point is showing up human — not some Instagram-worthy caricature of the Perfect Therapist™.
So yeah, if you’ve been wondering whether therapists also feel the weight of everything happening right now, the answer is: hell yes. We just try to hold it with a little more intention, because that’s the only way we survive it. And if you’re also tired, angry, heartbroken, or just plain over it? You’re not alone. You’re not behind. You’re not broken. You’re human.
We breathe through the wreckage together. Sometimes with tears, sometimes with dark humor, sometimes with sarcasm. But we breathe. And then we keep practicing.
✅ Little Challenge for You (Yes, You): Pick one thing you’re over-carrying this week. Name it. Then set one boundary that gives you even a sliver of breathing room. That’s it. Doesn’t have to be big. Just enough to remind yourself: you’re not here to carry it all.
Comments
Post a Comment