Thirteen years ago, I saw my first client as a therapist.

Nauseous and excited. 

Terrified and eager. 

Anxious and hopeful. 

(⬆️This was me; not my client.😉) 

A combination of thoughts, emotions, and sensations that I now associate with being on the right path. 

I was at the trailhead of a dream career for me. It would be a windy path through community mental health, adoption work, a rape crisis center (a couple times), and an inpatient treatment program. 

Ultimately, the trail led me to private practice. A destination that was never the goal. But still, that’s where I landed in 2019. 

If I could’ve given Emily from 2018 a glimpse into my “work” life now, she would’ve been SO fucking excited, while still a bit skeptical if it was really real. And there’s no way I could’ve even convinced 2010-Emily it was a possibility. Her deep insecurities kept dreams small. 

But the reality is, “work” has been really fucking great lately. After the initial “start-up” phase of private practice (involving more networking and marketing than suits my introverted self 🙃), things got really good. 

I had a full practice, working with people I REALLY enjoyed. I got to create my own schedule and had the freedom to travel - a lot. Curiosity Rising supported me through major losses and big transitions in my personal life. I’m eternally grateful for the stability offered during such hard times. And the people I got to work with on a daily basis. 

And then… I felt it. 

The cute leather jacket I’ve been wearing for four and a half years started to get tight. The jacket I splurged on because I finally felt like myself in it and it “went with everything”, is now too small. 

At first, I tried to rationalize this reality away. The leather is so buttery soft, it shouldn’t matter that the sleeves only reach my elbows now. Who cares about a jacket zipping anyways?

But then I looked in the mirror. 

And now.  I can’t unsee it.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve got two choices: 

• Keep wearing the too small cute jacket, pretending it’s fine. Lying to myself that it still fits and it’s still what I want to be wearing. 

• Be honest that this jacket is really fucking cute. AND it doesn’t fit me anymore. It’s time to let someone else enjoy the buttery leather. To see how they style it differently than I did. To allow someone else to breathe life into it again. 

I’ve got enough experience with transitions now to know what happens when I “overstay” my welcome. At a job, in a relationship, in a city. I know what happens when I choose to ignore my intuition. 

But that doesn’t keep away the old familiar voices…

• “You’re so UNGRATEFUL for even considering leaving your practice.”

• “Don’t you know how LUCKY you have it?”

• “How can you even think about leaving your clients?”

• “Don’t you CARE anymore?”

The voices trying to keep me safe. Trying to keep me in the familiar boxes. Trying to “logic” away what I know is true. 

So what is it that I now know is true?

It’s time for me to stop being a therapist. It’s time for me to stop following the script of how to be a “good” mental health practitioner. It’s time for me to reject the idea that working under a therapy license is the only way to “help” people. I’ve always had a visceral reaction to that “helping” phrase anyways. 

It’s time for me to trust myself to take the next right step. Even when it’s scary and doesn’t make logical sense. This knowing (and subsequent decision) has been simultaneously terrifying and overwhelmingly obvious. That’s one way I know it’s right. 

I care deeply about the people I work with. I’m humbled by their vulnerability. I don’t take it lightly that they share parts of themselves with me that maybe no one else in their world sees. That’s a bit fucking deal. 

I also trust that each and every one of them is going to be okay without me as their therapist. I am not the one holding them together or allowing them to thrive. I actually wonder what might be possible for them when they get to navigate this transition. What possibilities are waiting for them on the other side? What would I be holding them back from by overstaying?

I don’t know exactly what the future holds for me in terms of “work” and what I offer to the world. It’s really terrifying from a financial + stability standpoint to end my therapy practice. And, I’m clear now that until I create space in my day and life, I won’t get to see what’s possible. I have to let go of the identity of “therapist” to make space for the next version of me. 

I hope that by sharing some of this process with you and taking the steps to pivot when it’s clear I need to, it also gives YOU permission to pivot in your own life when you know you need to.

With Curiosity, 

Emily