At this stage in my life, I find myself fully immersed in two significant roles and identities: being a parent to two young children and being a psychotherapist to (more than two) clients. Each role brings tremendous meaning and challenge, and while they certainly differ in scope and boundaries, I have been struck by the ways they parallel one another. Both roles center on care—care that is intentional, emotional, imperfect, and deeply human.
Caring So Much
I certainly care more profoundly for my children; they are my ultimate responsibility and purpose. Yet I’m often surprised by how much care and thought I carry home for my clients. In the midst of home routines—packing schoolbags, refereeing sibling squabbles—my mind will wander back to a client: “I wonder if Leah ever had that hard conversation with her mom?” I’ll feel a pang of curiosity and concern, a quiet hope for her next step.
Perhaps I didn’t fully internalize all the boundaries emphasized in graduate training, but I’ve come to see these moments of lingering care as meaningful. They reflect the connection and commitment that underlie the therapeutic relationship. Caring deeply is part of what makes this work human.
Balancing Acceptance and Challenge
A colleague once shared a quote by Dr. Russell Barkley that perfectly captures the balance I strive for in both parenting and therapy. Barkley describes parents not as engineers but as shepherds: “You don’t design the sheep… Shepherds are powerful people. They pick the pastures in which the sheep will graze and develop and grow.”
This metaphor resonates with me. As both a mother and a therapist, I’m constantly navigating when to accept where someone is and when to gently challenge them toward a new direction. For instance, a young male client recently described himself as prideful. After a significant breakup, we explored the idea of closure—not to rekindle the relationship, but to find peace. He recognized that his pride was holding him back, yet he wasn’t ready to go there. I had to accept that. As much as I wanted him to move toward openness, my role was accepting his position. And perhaps waiting for a later opportunity to push him towards greater openness and vulnerability.
The Frustrations of Caregiving
There is an inescapable frustration in being both a parent and therapist. My youngest son, after multiple warnings not to stand on his chair, inevitably fell, crashed on the floor, and burst into tears. I remember thinking, Why can’t you just listen? I’m trying to help you, to protect you!
That same inner dialogue sometimes shows up at work. One client, despite deep insight into her pattern of jumping into relationships too quickly, continues to get hurt by the same dynamic. We’ve unpacked it thoroughly, yet the cycle repeats. I catch myself sighing internally, wishing knowledge alone could spare her pain. Parenting and psychotherapy both teach a humbling truth: awareness doesn’t always equal change. Growth takes time, and sometimes pain is part of the process.
he Necessity of Self-Reflection
One of the most valuable things I did before becoming a parent was go to therapy myself. Understanding my own patterns and origins has allowed me to bring more mindfulness into parenting—and to recognize when my reactions are more about me than my child. When my son abruptly quit a sport, for example, I was furious. I told myself it was about wasted time and money, but later I realized the intensity of my reaction came from my own history of quitting things. That awareness shifted everything. As a therapist, I know this kind of reflection is essential—but in parenting, it feels downright vital. My hope is always to avoid projecting all over my clients or children.
Empathy and Listening
Graduate school taught me that true listening—the kind that seeks to understand—is a skill most people never fully learn. Once I started genuinely listening, empathy became second nature. In both therapy and parenting, listening is the foundation of connection. Nothing builds trust or healing like feeling deeply heard and understood. Whether it’s my child expressing worry over the first day of school, or a client sharing their pain around a breakup, the act of listening—without judgment, without rushing to fix—creates space for transformation.
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Both psychotherapy and parenting continually ask me to show up with patience, presence, and humility. They remind me that caretaking is not about controlling outcomes, but about guiding, witnessing, and believing in growth—sometimes even before it’s visible. And perhaps most meaningfully, they both require trust: trust that, given care and the right conditions, growth will happen in its own time.
