Sometimes, I lose count of how many times I hear the word “sorry” in a session.
“Sorry for crying.”
“Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“Sorry, this probably doesn’t make sense.”
“Sorry, I cursed.”
“Sorry I’m a mess today.”
“Sorry, I know we’ve spoken about this before a million times.”
Recently, a client told me they’d recommended Kare Counselling to a friend. And then, almost instantly, asked if it was okay to request that I not take that friend on as a client.
“I don’t know if that’s selfish,” they said. “I’m sorry. I just… this space feels really important to me. I don’t want to share it.”
And I want to say something now that I often say in the therapy room, too:
You don’t have to apologise for that.
You are allowed to have boundaries.
You’re allowed to have needs.
You’re allowed to care about what this space means to you.
In therapy, you’re allowed to cry. Whether it’s a single tear or full on flood gates.
You’re allowed to not know what to say, to sit in silence, to tell the same story a hundred different ways until it starts to make sense.
You’re allowed to swear when something hurts, or when you’re angry, or when there just isn’t another word big enough for the feeling.
You’re allowed to ask your therapist not to take your friend on as a client. Or to take a break from something that feels too hard. Or to stay a little longer with something that matters to you.
You’re allowed to ask for what you need, even if it’s messy, even if it’s selfish, even if you’re not sure how your therapist might respond.
Therapy isn’t a place where you have to be perfect, or polite, or put-together.
It’s a space where you get to be you.
And if you’re a fellow therapist reading this:
I wonder how we help clients feel that permission more clearly. Not just in what we say, but in how we show up.
Can we offer more than reassurance? Can we model it?
Can we hold space for their true real selves by bringing more of our own?
So much of our training teaches us to stay back. To be boundaried. To be careful. To not self-disclose. To stay in the role.
But I sometimes wonder: what’s the message in that?
When we filter ourselves in the room, are we unintentionally creating a filtered space?
What might shift if clients met a therapist who was fully, visibly, human too?
It’s something I’ve been sitting with lately, the ongoing battle between staying in role, and showing up as a real messy human. And maybe that’s something we’ll explore together next time.
But for now maybe this is the invitation:
To be a little less sorry.
To take up a little more space.
To trust that you’re allowed to bring all of you here.
