Why I Allow Myself to Be Human as a Therapist

Let me say something that might surprise you:

I’m a therapist. And I don’t have it all together.

I don’t float through life in a calm, Buddha-like state.

I don’t always say the perfect thing.

And sometimes, my own life is hard, too.

I allow myself to be human—because pretending otherwise would be dishonest.

Therapy Doesn’t Require Perfection—It Requires Presence

People often assume that therapists must be emotionally bulletproof. That we’re immune to stress, conflict, self-doubt, or messy relationships.

Let me lovingly shatter that myth: we’re not.

We have inner critics.

We’ve cried in our own therapy sessions.

We’ve fumbled through healing.

And we still do the work—daily.

But what makes us effective isn’t being flawless.

It’s being deeply human, deeply trained, and deeply committed to sitting with you in your story without making it about us.

Why This Matters in the Therapy Room

When I allow myself to be human:

• I don’t pretend to “know everything”—I stay curious and open.

• I don’t hide behind clinical walls—I show up with warmth and honesty.

• I don’t distance myself from your pain—I meet it with compassion, because I’ve been in mine, too.

Being human allows me to model self-awareness, emotional regulation, humility, and repair.

It also means that if something I say misses the mark, I’ll own it.

I’ll reflect. I’ll repair. I’ll show you that being imperfect doesn’t mean being unsafe.

That’s not weakness. That’s relational strength.

Boundaries Still Matter (A Lot)

Being human doesn’t mean being unfiltered.

It doesn’t mean venting about my life, trauma-dumping, or turning therapy into my own personal confessional.

It means I stay grounded in my role—but I do so as a real person, not a persona.

I might smile when something’s funny.

I might say “me too” if something deeply resonates.

I might get emotional when something hits close to home—but I never lose sight of the fact that this space is about you.

You Deserve a Therapist Who’s Real

You don’t need a therapist who floats above you.

You need one who can sit beside you and say:

“I get it. Not because I’ve lived your exact story—but because I, too, know what it means to be human.”

Being human allows me to:

• Be honest without being harsh

• Be compassionate without rescuing

• Be present without pretending to have all the answers

It allows me to meet you—not from a pedestal, but from the heart.

 

I’m not a flawless guide—I’m a trained human who’s done (and doing) my own work.

That’s not a liability. That’s what keeps therapy honest, safe, and alive.