Why I Don’t Write About My Therapy Clients — Even With Redactions
Every so often, once in a very blue moon, I might reference a theme that came up in a therapy session. If I do, it’s only because it feels so universal that I know it will resonate. And even then, I speak in broad strokes, vague outlines, never with specifics. The details are never mine to share.
The truth is, every single week, I’m deeply moved by the women I work with — mostly college students through millennials — in my 1:1 practice. I witness their insights, their resilience, their humor, their heartache. They show up with so much depth and honesty. And yet, I choose not to share their stories — even if I could “safely” strip away identifying details.
In this era of content creation, AI, and a wave of therapists online who are navigating murkier boundaries than ever before, I find myself drawn to the opposite direction: toward more privacy, more protection, more reverence.
The work I do feels sacred.
And sacred things deserve a container… not a post.
Ironically, I do share a lot about my own life. My writing is personal, reflective, sometimes raw. I do this not to center myself, but because the responses I get the day a letter goes out, or months later, remind me that my own lived experience creates space for connection and resonance. I also know where the line is. My life is mine to share. My clients’ are not.
Separate from my clinical work as a therapist — when I lead We All Feel groups, events, or retreats — the therapy “laws of protection” might not be there in the same legal sense, but the confidentiality piece still remains a value that I nurture and hold onto. If you’ve been reading here for a while, and you remember me ever saying “a participant shared,” you better believe I asked permission to write about it. Yes, even when I don’t give any identifying information about who the person is.
Safety is defined by individual experience. It’s not something I can create for anyone else (I could write a whole other story about that). But I can hold a space where people are more likely to feel safe — and I find it a deep privilege to uphold that principle. Over and over again.
The essence behind We All Feel is that I am a human first. I also happen to be a clinical therapist and trauma-informed yoga teacher, among other things. But my humanity always comes before my profession. It’s from that place that I write. From my own stories, my own reflections, and sometimes, from themes I see echoing in the collective. Not from the confidential rooms (virtual or in-person) where healing work unfolds.
The work I do with clients or program participants lives in that confidential space on purpose. It’s meant to be as safe as possible — protected, unexploited. It’s not meant to be mined for content.
So if you read my writing and wonder why I never share “therapy stories,” this is why.
You’ll find me holding space quietly, whether in individual sessions or during events. I (do my best to) practice presence in the moment, and often their experiences resonate with me beyond the session. Sometimes a new resource feels relevant, a celebrated holiday marks a difficulty, or something joyful in the world reminds me of them. This deep attunement is part of my gift… and the privilege of walking this life alongside my clients is the greatest reward.
XOXO,
Amanda
PS In case no one told you today, I love you!
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you are such a beautiful and honoring soul.