Dear New Therapist, THE FOREWARD

THE FOREWARD

At the time of writing this series of letters, I am in between 3 and 4 years post-graduation. (By the time you are reading it, five.) While I have had truly incredible mentors and supervisors in my career who deserve much credit for my successes (shout out to Laura, Mary, Jason, Katie, and Sarah), I always found myself searching for the therapist who wasn’t yet accomplished-the onejustahead of me-to ask:

“”Is this normal? Is this okay? Should I refer out? Is this my own stuff coming up? Are we allowed to post that on TikTok? What are you wearing? Are we taking insurance? How much can I charge? How do I choose a supervisor? How many weeks is it socially/clinically acceptable to be late on notes-actually- I don’t want to know that one.”

I wanted to document my experiences and stories while they were still fresh, despite

lacking the wisdom of a decade in the field. Because I am writing this as I am now, I’m intimately familiar with the nuanced and often overwhelmed headspace of the new therapist. This doesn’t come without fear. I’m certain people will ask, “Who does she think she is, giving therapist advice when she just got here?” Sure. The thing is though, I do have experience in a special, specific corner of our field. It’s the corner titled “I Just Got Here,” which indeed reflects my “lack of experience.” But this corner isn’t a lonely one, and it certainly reflects more than that. There are many of us here, with many more to come. This corner brims with richness and, I’d argue, houses some of the best, most special, most important parts of our work.

When I first started writing, I grappled with the format. Initially, I planned an interactive workbook. I even toyed with a fictional version, following a new therapist through their first year in the field. Though it broke my heart to let that one go, I ultimately simplified everything into letters. And then simplified again, dropping (for now) the book, and instead offering an accessible, sharable, classic, millennial girl blog. This unexpected development perfectly aligns with the title and now allows me to blend those previous elements with a different sort of intimacy.

I’d like to speak more on the last point, intimacy. I have a note from my first boyfriend in the 4th grade. I have letters my parents sent me when I was on a two week trip to Brazil- they are worn and soft from years of rereading and loving on. I have the cards from great-grandparents no longer with me. These letters are my treasures, the first thing I would grab if my house was on fire. They are intimate, written with the intention to let me know more about the inner thoughts and feelings of those who penned them- an experience I feel is less and less common in my own life. Each day that I sat down and wrote to you, it was with that same intention- to let you in to the ugly, true, imperfect, humorous, loving parts of me and this field, in hopes that when you sat down to read, you would feel “normal”.

While some of these entries were written through the lens of a heartfelt letter, other chapters felt a bit like scribbling a note to a friend in class. When I was young, I was an avid note writer. I wrote at least one note per class period, folding them and slipping them into the Victoria Secret and Bath and Body Works filled Coach purses of my friends as we passed in the hallway. Note writing is exciting, the note itself spanning from weekend plans to latest crush, to last class period’s gossip. More than anything, note writing is honest, and therefore one of the many reasons you do not want your note to get picked up by anyone but it’s intended reader. It felt a bit like that writing this book- I would type away with an ever present tinge of fear of getting caught being too honest. Luckily for us both, the fear never won out.

While these letters are for the new therapist, it is my hope that anyone interested in starting something new could benefit from spending time here. I firmly maintain that beginners are the most impressive people, and it is seems to be becoming my life’s work to have them feel supported in their endeavors. If you are feeling scared about starting this new journey of yours, please hear me when I say loudly and emphatically, I GET IT. Starting something new feels scary because more often than not, it means that some thing else is being left behind. When I decided to go into the counseling field I was 27 years old and felt immense fear that I was leaving behind my dreams to be an actor. More than that, I was worried that the identity I had carefully crafted for myself over the past 15 years had all been for nothing. I do not know what you might be leaving behind, but I do know that all of the parts of me that had existed before I became a therapist have not only not left me, but have truly enhanced my work in this field.

Before we get too far in, I want to acknowledge my inherent biases and privileges. One of the most crucial aspects of our field is recognizing and understanding these factors. I am a white woman. I’ve always had family support as a safety net. Society accepts and accommodates my body, believes my pain, and has placed few obstacles in my path. While I strive to learn and unlearn, some parts of my story may not resonate with your lived experience, I try to address this throughout the text. I also want to recognize that our field, particularly “trauma work,” has roots in ancient practices from cultures and communities that existed long before the world commodified them. My lens and training aim to dismantle the white supremacy that constrains us all.

Finally, this series of letters aims to address the many facets of being a new therapist. I am writing this in 2024 and 2025, where therapists are creating social media, asking for fair wages, paying off insane student loans, navigating global crisis and national uncertainty, and ultimately, breaking the old model of how therapy and therapist should look. I do have one ask: by the end of the letters, I hope you will have give yourself permission to take whatever I have provided and put your own unique spin on it. I hope that these letters remind you of all that you do know and have experienced. I do not want you to leave here and say “well Emily said”- I want you to take what you need as a starting place FOR YOU. Your unique experiences and lens is what makes you excellent at what you do. Go let that part of you shine.

Until next week,

EPF