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As a therapist, I’ve always strived for professional distance—offering empathy and understanding while keeping my personal feelings carefully guarded. The therapeutic space is for my clients, a sanctuary where they can process their pain without having to shoulder mine. But these past few months have been different.
One recent session really stands out. My client's despair was almost unbearable. As she described her family trapped in Beirut amidst the escalating Israeli attacks, I could feel the carefully constructed walls of my professional composure crumbling. Tears welled, blurring my vision, and before I could stop myself, I was crying alongside her, my professional distance dissolving in the face of her profound suffering. In that moment, I realised it was okay to be fully present, to let her see my shared humanity. To let her know she was not alone in this struggle.
The weight of the world seems so much heavier these days. I’ve been sitting with Jewish and Middle Eastern clients, sharing their grief over lives lost in Israel, Gaza, and Lebanon. With displaced Ukrainian clients fleeing the threat of revived nuclear and chemical warfare. I’ve witnessed my American clients’ increasing anxiety about Trump’s presidential comeback, and the devastation wrought by LA’s wildfires.
The fear, pain, and loneliness – the sheer, gut-wrenching helplessness – are palpable. It feels as though words fail us, as if there's a chasm of sorrow too deep for language to bridge.
But this isn't just about the latest conflict or natural disaster. The world often feels besieged, leaving us all with a gnawing sense of powerlessness. For my Muslim clients, the familiar sting of Islamophobia has returned, a chilling reminder that prejudice can strike anywhere. My Black clients carry the weight of history, the names of Damilola Taylor, George Floyd and countless others etched in their hearts, a constant reminder that hatred knows no bounds. And for many of my female, trans and gender fluid clients, there’s the destructive creep of toxic masculinity: Gisele Pelicot’s sexual abuse, Trump’s health and reproduction reforms, along with Zuckerberg and Musk’s misogynistic peacocking – all contributing to this ongoing corrosion of trust and safety in the world. It's a relentless barrage of injustice.
“Everyone is familiar with the slogan "The personal is political" – not only that what we experience on a personal level has profound political implications, but that our interior lives, our emotional lives are very much informed by ideology. We oftentimes do the work of the state in and through our interior lives. What we often assume belongs most intimately to ourselves and to our emotional life has been produced elsewhere and has been recruited to do the work of racism and repression.” - Angela Y. Davis (Freedom is a Constant Struggle)
I don’t presume to speak for everyone affected, nor for all therapists, but from recent conversations, a few themes emerge: the first being the humbling and profound sense of helplessness. There's no manual, no quick fix to end wars, or mend families destroyed by disaster. The feeling of powerlessness is a stark reminder of our limited control over global events. It's the whispered anxiety of those awaiting news from loved ones on the front lines, hoping against hope, feeling utterly helpless in the face of such immense suffering. As a Gestalt therapist I know there’s no getting around these difficult feelings, I have to stay with them and feel them as fully as I can. The only way out is through.
“As therapists, we have the tools to not rush our patients to any forced solution. That is how real solutions that take into account multiple perspectives can come into play.” – Dr Orna Guralnik
We are also navigating the nuances of grief. Many clients struggle with the complexity of their feelings. The situation is far from black and white, but the desire for simple answers is strong. Some hesitate to reach out, fearing judgment or conflict. This is certainly true of one Jewish client, who initially struggled to reach out for my help, fearing his feelings might be viewed through a politically charged lens rather than with compassionate understanding. Once he realised that he could speak without judgement or persecution for his beliefs, a visible emotional weight started to lift.
Lastly , there is the fear of personal safety. Many of my clients—Palestinian, Jewish, Black, Trans or otherwise—are experiencing new levels of personal fear. The rise of hate speech online, often masked as support for one side or another, is palpable. People feel unsafe in places that once felt secure. The silence of some—those who haven’t reached out or acknowledged the pain—is another heavy burden. If you have friends from these communities, just reach out. There's no perfect response, but an acknowledgement makes a profound difference.
“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.” – Audre Lorde
Being a therapist in the time that we are currently living through has been a challenge. But I firmly believe that I am alive in this moment for a purpose, that my experiences have shaped me for a reason, and that I have chosen this career as a calling. As a therapist, my role has evolved to encompass a deep commitment to cultural competency while navigating the overwhelming fear and hopelessness that many of my clients’ face. This profound responsibility requires not only empathy and understanding but also a robust dedication to my own self-care.
As therapists, we are constantly looking after others’ emotions. It is often underestimated how closely tied someone’s emotional, mental, and physical health can be. When a client steps into a session, it is a therapist’s job to walk the fine line of balancing all three. We must challenge someone’s preconceived notions about themselves, assist them in unlearning unhealthy behaviour patterns, and soothe their anxious minds when moving through times of uncertainty. We are trained to build a thick and expansive wall around our own personal emotions so as to create a space where people feel not only welcome, but continually safe to become a new version of themselves, one who is mentally and emotionally healthier than before.
To do this, we are trained to bracket off our own feelings and keep what doesn’t serve the client to ourselves. The results are often rewarding; seeing the way clients evolve over time is an amazing feeling. Watching a person with low self-esteem blossom into their newfound, authentically-them personality or seeing someone with family trauma process and heal from their toxic patterns of self-doubt and deprecation is at once a humbling and rewarding experience - one that takes tremendous hard work for both therapist and client. And yet, sometimes, it's crucial for therapists to reveal their humanity and emotions, allowing clients, distressed by the world's state, to see their own feelings reflected and validated through a shared, genuine connection. And yet to do this safely and supportively, I’ve discovered the following approaches are vital -
1. Cultural Competency:
I’ve learned to become aware of my own biases and actively learn about different cultures, backgrounds, and identities to provide culturally sensitive care. We often reject the unfamiliar, sometimes without knowing. It is important for my clients to know that I do not expect them to educate me about their differences and that I have done my work to better-understand their cultural backgrounds, while recognising how my own has shaped me, and how, if left unchecked, can influence my client relationships. I’ve started here to reinforce the idea that the work I do as a therapist is always client-centred. Educating myself on other clients’ backgrounds has offered me a deeper and clearer understanding of their needs, helping me to narrow any perceived distance between us, and meet them more fully where they are. It also fights back against the helplessness many clients feel in uncertain situations.
2. Self-Care:
This work is incredibly demanding. We’re trained to compartmentalise and set aside our feelings, but we’re human, too. We carry the weight of our clients' pain. It’s okay to grieve, to feel anxious, to disconnect when needed. It's okay to struggle. We can't give to others unless we first care for ourselves. If you're a therapist feeling overwhelmed, please reach out to your colleagues or find support. Take care of yourselves, so you can continue caring for others.
3. Don’t fight your own human nature:
To be clear, I’m not saying we as therapists should blubber our way through sessions with clients. There are and will always be emotional boundaries that we should not cross with the people we are treating. But it is to say that therapists are not robots, we feel the same pain as the people who walk into our rooms. It feels a little ironic at times that we must be so clinical and professional in highly emotional situations. We know that we have the same doubts, worries, and fears as everyone else. By showing a little humanity here and there, it can go a long way in validating emotions both for us and for our clients.
In a world increasingly marred by the very atrocities we once relegated to history books, navigating the weight of trauma, fear, and daily triggers can feel overwhelming. As therapists, we not only confront these challenges personally but also guide others through their darkest moments. To truly support my clients, I must not only remain grounded, resilient, and present, but also be prepared to show up authentically, in all my humanity, even if this means clients seeing me in the fullness of my emotions. Healing is not a solitary journey—it is a shared commitment to transformation, strength, and hope. Armed with this understanding, I step forward with purpose, ready to meet the next challenge head-on and help build a future defined not by suffering, but by resilience and possibility.
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