Behind The Wizards Curtain: Navigating Emotional Distress as a Therapist During Personal Struggles

Being a therapist means holding emotional space for clients, offering them a place where they can feel heard, understood, and supported. It’s a unique role—one that requires empathy, active listening, and the ability to remain present with someone else’s distress. But what happens when your own life becomes a source of emotional upheaval? How do you continue to be that solid, dependable presence for clients when you’re going through your own deeply personal struggles?

This is something I’ve been grappling with recently, and it’s a delicate balancing act. There’s a part of me that worries: Can I really hold someone else’s distress when I’m barely holding my own? I reflect often on the ethical implications of this. As a therapist, I am professionally and morally bound to ensure that my personal life does not interfere with the care I provide to my clients. Yet, I’m human, too. Life’s challenges don’t pause just because I have a responsibility to others.

The key concept I lean into during these times is bracketing. It’s something I was taught early in my training, and it’s a skill I’ve come to rely on heavily. Bracketing involves consciously setting aside your own personal feelings and experiences so that they don’t interfere with the therapeutic process. It’s like flipping a switch—when I step into a session, I shift my focus away from myself and onto my client. It’s not about ignoring what’s happening in my life, but rather about compartmentalising it for the time being, allowing me to be fully present for someone else.

That switch is often seamless for me. The moment I sit down with a client, I feel myself stepping into a different mode—one that is centred around them, their pain, their story. It’s almost automatic at this point. However, there are moments where my own struggles float into my awareness. I’ve learned to acknowledge these thoughts and feelings, to notice them without judgment, and let them pass. It’s not always easy, but my mindfulness training plays a crucial role here. Mindfulness has taught me how to observe my thoughts without becoming consumed by them, allowing me to stay grounded in the present moment.

In a way, it feels like a paradox—being able to hold both my own distress and my client’s simultaneously, without letting the former spill into the latter. It’s a practice in duality, one where I can acknowledge my own vulnerability while still offering strength and stability to those who need it. My personal difficulties do not vanish, but they exist in the background, carefully bracketed so they don’t cloud the therapeutic space.

Mindfulness has become one of my most valuable tools in this process. By staying connected to the present moment, I can remain aware of my own inner landscape without letting it dominate my interactions with clients. It’s a skill I continue to cultivate, reminding myself that it’s okay to have my own emotional experience, but that it doesn’t need to impact my ability to show up for others.

At times, I wonder whether I am doing the right thing. Am I being truly authentic if I’m struggling behind the scenes? But the reality is that part of the human experience—both as a therapist and as a person—is navigating these complex, layered emotions. There’s an ethical responsibility to be aware of how my own state might affect my work, but there’s also a recognition that part of what makes therapy effective is the therapist’s humanity. We’re not immune to life’s challenges, but we can navigate them in a way that maintains the integrity of the therapeutic space.

Ultimately, these experiences have deepened my understanding of the therapeutic relationship. I’ve come to see that being a therapist during difficult personal times isn’t about shutting down my own feelings, but about trusting in my training, my mindfulness practice, and my ability to be present in the moment. The switch happens, the bracketing works, and I can be there for my clients, even when my own world feels a little shaky.