Self-awareness, Self-care and just self-love!
The Mirror I Hold: A Therapist’s Reflection on Self-Awareness, Self-Care, and Self-Love
People often assume that being a psychotherapist means I have it all figured out—that I sit in a chair each day dispensing wisdom like a calm, all-knowing oracle. The truth is far messier, far more human. Sitting across from my clients, I am constantly reminded of the deep work that we all must do, including myself.
Self-awareness is the first cornerstone. It is both my compass and my burden. I listen for subtle shifts in tone, hidden grief beneath smiles, and the anxious tap of a foot. Yet when I go home, I must learn to turn that same attentiveness inward. Some days, I catch myself dissociating from my own body, neglecting to ask, “How are you really feeling?” I’ve learned that being good at reading others doesn’t mean I’m immune to my own blind spots. Therapy has taught me not only to see others more clearly, but to recognize the shadows I cast on my own internal walls.
But awareness without self-care becomes a cruel kind of clarity. There have been times I’ve heard my clients speak of burnout, of exhaustion from tending to others, and felt a deep, aching resonance. I used to believe that caring more meant doing more. I now know that boundaries are a form of care—not just for my clients, but for myself. Turning off the phone, saying no, crying when I need to cry, taking days off without guilt—these acts aren’t indulgences; they’re oxygen.
Then there is self-love, the hardest and most sacred task of all. It’s easy to fall into the trap of defining my worth by how much I help, how insightful I am, or how appreciated I feel. But real self-love isn’t earned. It’s a steady, tender regard for myself even when I feel empty, flawed, or uncertain. I’ve learned to speak to myself in the voice I use with my most vulnerable clients—patient, warm, and nonjudgmental. On my best days, I can say, “You are enough, just as you are,” and actually believe it.
Being a psychotherapist is a paradox: I help others find themselves, all while continuously rediscovering who I am. My work demands that I stay present with pain, but also that I hold hope, for others and for myself. It’s not a profession that allows for much pretending. And honestly, that’s the gift. The more I grow in self-awareness, tend to my needs with care, and cultivate love for myself, the more I can show up fully—for my clients, and for the quiet, complex human I am when no one is watching.
Therapistly Admin- Anon