There are rare moments when a client realizes they are not alone. (My favorite)
Therapy is supposed to be about the client.
In fact, most good therapists work hard to keep their own lives from becoming the focus of the session. My frustration from traffic, my toddler's latest challenge, my relationship with my parents, my childhood experiences—those things do not belong in your therapy session.
That doesn't mean therapists are blank slates.
I bring every lesson I have learned from the life I have lived. When we're discussing a job application, I might suggest asking the HR representative what type of drug test they're ordering because I used to work as an HR Generalist. My experiences shape my knowledge and perspective.
But my emotions get checked at the door.
There have been a few moments, though, when sharing a small piece of myself created a connection that would not have happened otherwise.
Two moments immediately come to mind.
The first happened sometime in 2022.
I had been seeing this client for a while. We were discussing how other people who had experienced something similar often reacted. I was trying to normalize what she was going through.
Honestly, the disclosure slipped out before I even realized I had said it.
The following week, she came in and asked me a question.
"Last week you said we..."
Then she paused.
"Does that mean you experienced this too?"
I froze.
I had disclosed things before, but never anything on that level. Things like what TV show I am obsessively watching, my dogs name, the fact that I have a niece, etc. Surface level disclosers!
After a moment, I confirmed that yes, I had.
The response is something I can still hear in my mind.
She sighed.
Not a normal sigh.
It was the sigh of someone who had been carrying something alone for a very long time.
The sigh said, "I knew other people must have experienced this, but I never thought someone I knew had. I never thought someone like you would understand."
She seemed to melt into the couch.
Later, I processed the disclosure with my board-approved supervisor.
Did I cross a line?
The answer was no.
I hadn't shifted the session to my story, my feelings, or my healing. I briefly disclosed something relevant, then immediately returned the focus to her experience and what it meant for her.
The disclosure helped.
And that is what matters.
The second moment happened much more recently, in 2026.
This time, the disclosure was intentional.
I got to share with a client that I had also experienced a miscarriage.
I say I got to share because I believe we need to talk about miscarriage more openly.
Miscarriage is common, especially in the first trimester, and yet so many people experience it feeling completely alone.
Miscarriages before 12 weeks is about 80%
& drop after 12 weeks (second trimester) are much less common,
occurring in roughly 1-5% of confirmed pregnancies.
When I miscarried, I did what many grieving people do: I picked a random thing to blame.
Despite medical professionals telling me it was most likely a chromosomal issue, part of me still wanted an explanation. I wanted a reason. I wanted something I could point to. I wanted to think if I didn’t do that again I wouldn’t have another miscarraige.
My client was doing something similar.
I wanted her to know that she wasn't crazy.
I wanted her to know that many people search for a cause when there isn't one to find.
I also wanted her to know what I eventually learned: that most early miscarriages are not caused by something the mother did or failed to do.
Years ago, a friend told me something that stuck with me:
"Even people struggling with serious addiction give birth to healthy babies. There isn't much you can do to make your body completely uninhabitable."
Crude? Maybe.
But it helped me.
When I shared my experience, my client teared up.
I could feel the relief.
Not because I had the perfect words.
Not because I fixed her grief.
But because, for a moment, she wasn't carrying it by herself.
Those moments are rare.
Most therapy sessions should not involve therapist self-disclosure.
But every now and then, there is a moment when a client realizes they are not the only person in the world who has felt what they are feeling.
You can feel the loneliness leave the room.
And when it happens, it is one of the most beautiful parts of this work.
To my beautiful January baby we never met.