Reflections of a Therapist in Making

I had a romanticised idea when I came into this profession, thinking that I would be holding space for others, supporting them through their journey of pain, and finding meaning in their experiences. I would imagine myself sitting across from my client,  listening intently to their story and offering a presence in a world that often feels like it’s spinning. In reality, it is so much more than I had anticipated. Holding space is not just about being present but also about sitting in silence, even when it feels heavy, keeping our emotions in check while being attuned with someone else’s story, and sometimes feeling helpless for not having immediate answers. 

As I chose this path, I pictured quiet aesthetic rooms, meaningful conversations and the privilege of being a part of someone’s healing journey, and while this image was not wrong, it did not capture the full story, and that is when I realised that no one really prepares us for what it is like being in that chair. Especially in the early stages, it feels like learning to dance without stepping on someone else’s toes. 

I remember one of my very first clients. Our session had just ended, and I sat there replaying every moment in my head. As I enter the room, there is a quiet voice that accompanies me in the background. A voice that sounds like self-doubt but is also a voice of learning, “Is it okay to interrupt the client here? Should I probe deeper? Was that interpretation premature?” These thoughts run parallel to the session, and it makes me wonder, how present am I while monitoring myself? Although it is essential to find a balance between reflecting and being a self-critique. Early in the field, the pressure to perform well, say the correct thing, or appear confident can overshadow the quiet strength of simply being human in the room.

Along with internal challenges, there are relational ones too. A common occurrence for therapists is the revelations that come in five minutes before the session, the no-shows, the cancellations, or the heaviness that sits with you after a heavy confession in the session. These moments have made me realise that boundaries are not barriers but scaffolding that makes the real connection possible. A firm no or a compassionate confrontation does not come naturally to me. I understand that it is part of the work, but there is hesitation thinking, “What if I get it wrong? What if they shut down?” I would not want to rupture the relationship that we are building with care and patience. 

In this process, supervision has become an anchor for me. A space where I am held with curiosity and no expectations to have it all together. Here I bring in silent questions that stay with me: “Was I enough?” “What else can be done?” “Did I handle it well?”. Supervision helps in turning this uncertainty into reflection. It offers a mirror to moments that may otherwise have gone unnoticed and is a constant reminder that growth comes from exploring these questions. 

Alongside this comes knowledge, which I thought would be an armour, protecting me from making mistakes. The initial days of a therapist are filled with reading, observing, and attending. There is a desire to be fully prepared and master all skills, but it is not knowledge alone that makes one a therapist. People are not textbooks; they are layered and filled with nuances, which made me recognise that the resources we carry come alive when they are used with presence. It is not just about collecting information but knowing when to listen, to pause, and let silence allow something deeper to surface. 

In all this uncertainty, learning and subtle shifts that do not always announce themselves, I have started to see that this work is not about reaching a destination but a process of becoming, and this process is rarely linear. The beginning of any meaningful work can be overwhelming. In therapy, there might not be instant feedback, but there are a few tangible signs of progress. We sit together to notice the intentional moments that have the potential to create change. Maybe the goal is not to be certain but to be curious, not know everything but to be open, and not get it perfect but to be honest.