Much To My Delight

Much To My Delight


What It’s Like to Be a Therapist

These days i seem to blog only when something significant–good or bad– has happened in my life. A trip, a special moment, a funny or sweet observation. I basically write when I’m moved to do so. I write only when I think I might have something interesting to say. But sometimes I write because I literally don’t know what else to do with my thoughts.

One of my clients died. I found out Friday afternoon, in between appointments. I’d mailed an outreach letter to her home after several missed sessions and the envelope was returned back to me– the word “Deceased” scribbled quickly on the front. I found myself wondering who wrote it. Was it the post office? Her mother? Her super?

what it's like to be a therapist

This isn’t the first of my clients to die. It’s my fourth, that I know of. In nine years, I’ve seen literally hundreds of people. It’s a safe assumption that several have died and word never got back to me. The first three died in their 50s and 60s, from medical reasons. I see several clients in pretty poor health right now, and I worry about them all the time.

This one is weighing on me heavier because she was young. She was only 36. I don’t know how she died but there are possibilities looping through my brain. What I do know is that three kids lost their mom, and every time I think about that, I get a little teary.

My job is so strange. People come to us at their most fragile, and sometimes they stay with us for a very long time. I’d been seeing this client for three years, but a lot of my clients have been seeing me over 5 or 6. Some came with me when I changed agencies. I’ve been seeing one of my clients since I was an intern, when his son was 9. He just graduated high school.

We spend more time with our clients than we do the majority of our friends. How many friends do I see once a week? None! I see my clients more frequently than I see my parents or talk to my brother. We root for them to succeed and we support them if they stumble. We’re genuinely concerned for their health and well-being, and we grieve them when they’re gone. I didn’t know about my client’s funeral. If I had, I would have gone. I’m writing this blog post to process my feelings. I don’t know where else to put my grief, so I’m putting it here.

 

I’m a pretty fortunate person in that my brain is wired for gratitude. I look for it everyday, but if I’m being honest, I actually don’t have to look very hard. I’m literally overwhelmed by it sometimes. Sometimes it makes me cry a little. Vin makes fun of me, but I think he actually likes that about me.

My job reminds me that this beautiful world is punctuated with tremendous sadness. It reminds me that life is short and fragile, and sometimes cruel. Even so, my work doesn’t diminish my optimism or gratitude. It reinforces it. The happy moments shine a little brighter and I have greater appreciation for them.

I love my job so much. It humbles me every single day. But sometimes, I wonder if it isn’t pressing a little too hard on my heart.

 

Jenn P.

30-something psychotherapist. Loves cooking, hosting parties, exploring new places. Texan by birth. New Yorker by choice. Likes to tell little stories. Pull up a chair; I'll tell you one.

Add a comment