Can therapists cry?
I’ve been thinking a lot this week about managing affect in session. (That is, my own affect, not the client’s.) I have some who remain coolly detached from their emotions, others who can show every emotion on their faces and cry openly throughout. Both are ok, both are normal and understandable and where they are at this moment in recovery.
But what happens when I’m sitting with someone, hearing stories of unfathomable pain and brutality, and my natural human instinct kicks in? I found myself fighting back tears in one session as a client recounted her childhood of constant physical, verbal, and emotional abuse. I felt my throat tighten and the tears pool in my eyes. I didn’t cry, but I know she heard my voice crack slightly the next time I spoke.
I don’t just detach from this content. At least at this point in my career, I can’t. And I’m not sure I want to. I’m not sure what that ability would mean.
My mentors and peers have shared similar stories, and some have cried outright in session. The reason I’ve been fighting that- because most of the time, I really do want to cry- is because I don’t want to shift the dynamic. I don’t want the client, who is with me to do the incredibly difficult work of telling her story in the hope of reclaiming or re-assembling certain aspects of her life, to feel the need to comfort or reassure me.
However, I do believe that being a non-reactive blank slate is equally useless. It’s important to me to show that I am moved and affected by my clients’ stories, while always making sure the focus stays on them.









