Lessons I Learned in My First Five Years as a Therapist: A Journey from Naive to Mostly Competent

1. The First Year Is Basically an Impostor Syndrome Marathon

My first year as a therapist was an exercise in surviving imposter syndrome. I walked into each session thinking, “Oh, I totally know how to fix all of this!” and then immediately realized I had no idea how to fix anything other than brewing a really good cup of coffee. Clients would say things like, “I feel like no one understands me,” and I’d be 100% certain I had no idea what was going on in their brain, but hey, I’d fake it with my “active listening” skills and a lot of nodding.

The first year was also when I became deeply acquainted with my calendar. I’d check it every five minutes, wondering, "Can I really do this? Am I even qualified for this? Will I ever feel competent?" Spoiler alert: I will. Eventually.

2. Not All Clients Will Like You—And That’s Totally Okay

I used to think that therapy was supposed to be this magical experience where I’d bond with every client over shared experiences and feelings. But sometimes? Sometimes, a client will look at me like I’ve just insulted their entire family. And you know what? That’s okay. There are clients who will leave my office looking at me like I’m the worst therapist in the history of mental health professionals, and I’ll leave thinking, "What did I say wrong? Did I offend them? Should I have worn my ‘Please Like Me’ shirt?"

But here’s the thing I’ve learned: it’s not about me. Some people just won’t vibe with my style. And that’s fine. It’s not personal. They’ll leave, and I’ll keep moving forward. As long as they don’t throw anything, I’m good.

Once I learned that, it became a lot easier to accept that I can’t please everyone. And that’s actually a relief. Now, I just focus on doing my best with the clients who do connect with me. Phew.

3. Emotions Are Weird, and People Are Weirder

When I started out, I thought I had a solid understanding of how feelings work. “Hey, I’ve studied psychology, I get it,” I thought. Then, in real life therapy, I’d sit across from someone and listen to their really complicated situation, and I’d suddenly realize that everything I’d learned in textbooks was totally irrelevant. Emotions don’t follow the rules. People don’t follow the rules. I’d hear stories that made me think, “Wait, that can’t be real,” and then I’d nod and respond like it made perfect sense.

I also learned that therapy is as much about helping people understand their emotions as it is about teaching them that it’s okay to be completely confused by them. One minute a client is crying, and the next, they’re eating a sandwich and discussing it like it’s the pinnacle of human achievement. And you know what? I just go with it. You get used to the weirdness. Sort of.

4. You’ll Start Overthinking Every Word You Say (And That’s Also Normal)

In the beginning, I was obsessed with saying the “right” thing. I spent way too much time worrying, “Did I say ‘I understand’ too much? Did I sound patronizing? Do they think I’m secretly judging them for their choice of snack?” It’s like a never-ending anxiety dream, except it’s happening in real life. I’d replay sessions in my head and think, “Did I miss an opportunity to offer deep insight? Should I have challenged them more on that statement?”

The good news is: it gets better. Eventually, I realized that a genuine response is much better than a perfectly scripted one. Clients actually prefer that I sound like a real person instead of a walking psychology textbook. Thank God for that.

5. Boundaries Are Key, But Also, You Will Probably Need to Get Better at Them

When I started, everyone told me, “Set boundaries!” and I was like, “Sure, no problem!” But somehow, I kept getting sucked into these emotional whirlpools where clients would start to treat me like I was their best friend—or worse, like I was their personal emotional punching bag. There were days I’d leave the office thinking, “Wow, I just spent 45 minutes talking about someone’s cat’s digestive problems. Am I even qualified for this?”

Eventually, I realized that setting boundaries wasn’t just a good idea—it was a survival skill. At first, enforcing those boundaries was awkward. I’d feel guilty for not texting back at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday (pro tip: I shouldn’t feel guilty). But over time, I learned that maintaining boundaries doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my clients. It means I’m taking care of myself, so I can be more present for them.

6. Supervision is Actually Really, Really Important

When I first started, I thought I was a fully trained professional ready to conquer the world. But then I got my first piece of feedback from my supervisor and thought, “Wait, what? I thought I totally nailed that intervention!” Turns out, supervision isn’t just a bureaucratic requirement—it’s a lifeline. Having someone to help me untangle the mess that is a client’s situation, or better yet, untangle my own emotional response to a situation, has been absolutely crucial.

Supervision has become this magical place where I can unload, vent, laugh, and sometimes cry about the absurdities of my job. It’s also where I get better at what I do. And that’s probably the most important lesson I’ve learned.

7. You Will Have Days When You Just Want to Hide Under Your Desk and Pretend You’re a Potted Plant

Yep, there will be days when I question every decision that led me to this point. Clients will talk and talk, and I’ll feel like I’m emotionally drowning. I’ll leave work thinking, “I have aged 10 years today. How is that even possible?” I’ll wonder, “Can I really handle this? Is therapy something I should be doing? Maybe I should start selling lemonade by the side of the road instead…”

But here’s the thing I’ve learned: it’s okay to have those days. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. In fact, it’s normal. Therapy is hard. But I’ve also learned that after a deep breath, a little self-care, and maybe a snack (okay, definitely a snack), I can keep going. I can handle this. And I will.

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So, in conclusion, my first five years as a therapist have been chaotic, beautiful, and deeply transformative. I’ve learned that perfection is a myth, boundaries are hard but necessary, and at the end of the day, I’m never as "fine" as I think I am—and that’s okay. Because neither are my clients.

And as for me? I’m just here, doing my best, trying to offer support while simultaneously Googling “How to Unburnout as a Therapist” and questioning my life choices. You know, like every good therapist does.