When Their Pain Stays With Me: A Therapist’s Reflection on Holding Space for Trauma
When Their Pain Stays With Me: A Therapist’s Reflection on Holding Space for Trauma
Some moments in therapy linger quietly and deeply long after the session ends. The pain my clients carry often echoes in my own body and heart. It's not always the specific details that stay with me, but the emotional weight of what trauma leaves behind: the grief of innocence lost, the heartbreak of betrayal, the ache of disconnection, and the profound loneliness that follows deep wounding.
Holding space for trauma is more than just listening—it's witnessing someone’s inner world unravel and slowly begin to take shape. It’s sitting with the aftermath of what shouldn’t have happened or what should have. It’s hearing the silence between words, deep breaths, and cracks in voices and recognizing the pain carried.
When It Lingers
As therapists, we learn to maintain our strength and not allow our clients' emotions to overwhelm us. I manage to do that most days, but I’m still human. There are moments when I genuinely feel the weight of my clients' stories. After a session, it’s not uncommon for me to cry for them, wish them well, and clear the space with sage or chimes while sending them good intentions.
I might think about them on weekends while driving or prepping dinner. Some emotions really stick with me, and I’ve realized that this connection makes our work so meaningful. It reflects how deeply I care. After specific sessions, I’m reminded of the raw, fundamental nature of being human and the courage it takes to sit with pain that has been hidden for so long.
Compartmentalizing with Care
I’ve learned to create space inside myself for what I hear—not by shutting down, but by honoring the pain and gently placing it where it belongs. I remind myself that healing doesn’t mean I have to carry someone’s pain or solve their issues; it’s about walking beside them as they learn to embrace it in new, life-affirming ways.
Reconnecting with my sense of safety and joy keeps me grounded. My breath, body, time spent with loved ones, the beauty of nature, art, and laughter all play a crucial role. These rituals aren’t just acts of self-care; they’re ways for me to return to myself to be fully present for my clients.
The Beauty in the Work
Even in tough times, there’s a kind of beauty to notice. It’s in those rare moments when someone finally opens up and speaks their truth.
Beauty in the first moment their voice doesn’t shake. In the tears that finally come. In the silence that no longer feels empty, but full of presence and possibility.
These moments stick with me, not because I’m holding onto them but because I’m thankful to have seen them. Doing this kind of work isn’t just about dealing with pain; it’s also about making room for change and growth, which is the essence of this work.
