For the New Therapists Who Need to Hear This Today

If no one has told you yet, let me be the first:
There are no coping skills in the world that can compete with unmet basic needs.

You can teach grounding, reframing, breathing, communication, and distress tolerance all day long…
but you cannot out-talk hunger.
You cannot out-process exhaustion.
You cannot out-therapize food insecurity, unsafe housing, or the crushing weight of survival mode.

That doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong.
It means your clients are human.

And so are you.

In community mental health especially, this truth hits hard.
You will meet brilliant, resilient people whose symptoms are rooted not in pathology but in scarcity.
You will write treatment plans that you know don’t stand a chance against an empty fridge, a shut-off notice, or a client who hasn’t slept safely in weeks.

This is the part of the work no one really prepares you for.
It’s also the part that leads to burnout—fast.
Because you cannot clinical-skill your way out of systemic problems.
You cannot DSM-code your way out of poverty.
You cannot care-plan your way out of food insecurity.

So in the next few weeks, or months, or however long it takes:

Be kind.
To yourself.
To your clients.
To the realities you’re both carrying.

Give yourself grace.
You are walking into rooms holding stories that would break most people.
You are doing the best you can inside systems that are not always designed to help people thrive.
You are showing up in places where survival comes before insight, safety comes before self-reflection, and a hot meal is more effective than any worksheet you could ever provide.

Let this be your reminder:
Your worth as a clinician is not measured by how quickly a client improves—
but by how consistently you show up with humanity.

Therapy does not fix hunger.
Compassion doesn’t replace shelter.
And none of that is your failure.

Keep going with gentleness.
This work needs your softness, your boundaries, your realism, and your heart.
And so do the people you serve.

You’re doing enough.
You are enough.
And we’re all in this together.

Previous
Previous

Helping Your Child Understand Celiac Disease: Our Family Story and a Gentle Storybook for Kids

Next
Next

A Letter to the Mom Crying in Her Black SUV