Some of what makes you a great therapist will quietly sabotage your business.
The year was 2013 and I still remember how the fluorescent lights accosted my eyes as I slid into my desk on the right side of the room, near the back wall.
I can’t remember the exact name of the class — maybe Ethics of Therapy — but I remember my professor vividly.
Auburn hair swept to the side, thick glasses, maybe forty-something, and a stare that could silence every questioning part of me and summon my Good Girl parts in an instant.
We were learning about what was “ethical” to have in our offices versus what was “best practice,” and I had questions.
His voice bellowed:
“It is best practice to be a blank slate for your client. Do not have any photos of your family on your desk. Do not have anything indicating if you are married or not, what your political or religious affiliations might be.”
Basically — be a boring beige wall for your client to stare at.
Why? I immediately asked inside.
But then the staring started. I was less self-assured and in my 20s, so I swallowed it down and dreamed of my beige-wall office where I would be the best blank slate for my clients to stare at.
I thought this was what being a good therapist meant……
Graduate school taught me how to be ethical and competent. It taught me how to be a great therapist.
It did not teach me how to build a business I actually loved.
If you’re a therapist trying to run a business, chances are these resonate for you too.
Here is a list of every single thing I’ve had to unlearn from graduate school in order to LOVE my work and make it profitable, sustainable, and creative.
1. Be a Blank Slate (aka Professionalism = Neutrality)
Neutrality muted my professional voice.
The blank slate idea had me gobsmacked even when I was just a baby therapist and my only dream was to be a graduated grown-up therapist serving clients.
The blank slate — or tabula rasa — has its roots in the philosophical work of John Locke. It has its psychotherapy roots in Freud and well… he wasn’t exactly the picture of ethical therapy.
The idea makes sense as the intention is in service of the client.
Therapy should not be about the therapist.
Self-disclosure should be limited.
Avoid influencing client stories or outcomes.
Stay client-centered.
So how do you stay ethical and human?
Attuned presence is better than neutrality every time.
Go to supervision. Take care of yourself. Do your own work. That’s what helps you show up fully for your clients.
But if you run a private practice — and yes, that means you run a business — you need a perspective and a point of view.
Your humanity is what pays your bills.
My reframe: Business requires a point of view.
2. Good Helpers Don’t Care About Money
I still feel heated writing this one.
In therapy school — that’s what we’re calling it from here on out — there were endless messages about altruism and almost zero messages about running a sustainable business, P&L sheets, or equal energetic exchanges.
Helping professions are often female-dominated — which means legacy burdens around low pay and moral pressure about money.
We hear this confirmed all the time:
“You should do this because you love people, not for the money.”
I resonate with this.
I was doing some of my own money-parts work and I literally said:
“I would do this work for free, I love it so much.”
And I meant it.
Running a business costs money.
Sustaining your survival costs money.
Unless you live in the woods and grow your own food, you are a participant in capitalism.
You rarely hear people call doctors or dentists greedy.
But therapists? Somehow we’re supposed to transcend economics entirely.
My reframe: Money is what makes your work sustainable.
Money is infrastructure.
Money is capacity.
Money is what allows you to keep showing up.
3. If I’m Really Skilled, Clients Will Just Find Me
I clung to this idea like Rose on the wooden door in the freezing water — “If I’m really skilled, clients will just find me” was Jack, and I was not letting go.
In other words, friends, this one has been hard to unlearn.
Even in the corporate world I had a part that would say:
“My work should speak for itself. I don’t want to beg for promotions.”
Sometimes that worked.
But I also missed opportunities by staying silent. Waiting for my ship — money, promotions, recognition — to come in.
THE TRUTH:
The way people find therapists is constantly changing and evolving.
By staying hidden, you lose clients, money, and the opportunity to share your gifts with the people who need them.
My reframe: People need to know who you are and how you help — or they can’t work with you.
4. I Should Be Able to Help Everyone
“You need to be able to help everyone who comes into your office.”
Direct quote from my very esteemed former Johns Hopkins professor teaching Counseling Theories.
This was the class where you learn a little bit about every psychological theory under the sun:
CBT, DBT, Gestalt, Person-Centered, and on and on and on.
The message was clear:
HELP EVERYONE.
And part two of that message — at least the way my brain interpreted it — was:
“And you are a failure if you don’t.”
Imagine my surprise when it’s 2021, I’m in a coaching program for therapists, and we’re asked to pick a niche — and I panic. Red face, overthinking loop activated, talk wayyyyy too fast kind of panic.
No no no no no no no.
This wasn’t what I was taught.
And honestly, there were parts of me that truly did want to help everyone. Savior complex and all that jazz.
I struggled. I stomped my feet. I pivoted 10,000 times. I hated it.
The person teaching that program was right though.
My reframe: Specificity creates impact.
People need to understand why YOU can specifically help THEM.
That’s how real impact happens.
5. Burnout Is Part of Being a Therapist
I’m carrying blocks, play-dough, and a pile of Family Centered Therapy worksheets into a home somewhere on the outskirts of Dayton, Ohio.
This is my seventh client of the day.
I’m splitting my time between seeing kids in schools for school-based therapy and working with court-appointed families who are at risk of losing their children in the evenings.
I’m exhausted.
Bone-tired, but digging deep because the little ones in this family helped me find a third gear in my soul.
This scene could have been any post-graduate, not-yet-licensed therapist in Anywhere, USA because that is the drill.
Therapy school → take the tests → graduate → put in your time at XYZ agency where they extract every ounce of your energy → leave after your hours are done and vow never to work like that again.
I remember being in group supervision when someone said with tears in their eyes that their caseload was unsustainable.
My supervisor responded: “Everyone is dealing with this. This field may not be for you.”
The message:
Burnout is normal, so get over it.
My reframe: Being a well-rested therapist is a clinical skill and a business skill.
Well-rested you does the best work.
Your best work creates impact and allows you to keep doing this work longer.
6. If It Comes Naturally, I Didn’t Earn It
Hard Work Badge-of-Honor wearer reporting for duty. (salutes)
I’d love to blame this one on my competitive sports background and the “no pain no gain” ideology of the 90s, but therapy training added fuel to the fire.
Clinical training rewards endurance:
Apply → get in → complete the program → unpaid practicum → unpaid internship → 2,000+ clinical hours → license.
I’m not suggesting therapist training should be easier.
We deal with people’s mental health. Rigor matters.
But I did absorb the idea that everything from that point forward needed to be hard or I wasn’t doing it right.
So we recreate “hard” in our businesses because it feels familiar.
We want to earn every client. Every dollar.
We design pricing structures that look like bingo balls got thrown at a wall.
But hard doesn’t always equal growth.
Sometimes it’s just… harder.
My reframe: Business rewards discernment, not suffering.
Work smarter is not a cliché — it should literally be your motto.
Lean into what you’re naturally good at.
Otherwise what is the point of running your own business?
7. My Worth Is Measured By How Much I Give
Last but definitely not least: My worth is measured by how much I give.
Great for altruism. Terrible for boundaries and business.
If I let that client reschedule so I can give so I can be worthy → bad for business.
(And honestly, bad for that client too.)
If I price sessions at $30/hour so I can give so I can be worthy → bad for business and bad for my bank account.
There is pride in being a therapist.
But don’t let your identity get so entrenched that you sacrifice yourself at every corner.
That leads to burnout and a business that barely survives. Your business is not the place to be “needed” by clients. Be inspiring. Be a role model. Hold the space. Facilitate change. Teach them how to fish. Don’t give them the fish.
My reframe: Define worth & success on your terms & unhook it from your title as a therapist.
Yes, worthiness is your birthright & look at the parts who learned something about worthiness being connected to giving.
Therapy school taught me how to be a good therapist.
The rest — building work that feels alive, sustainable, and creative — I had to figure out on my own.
Most of what I’ve learned came from unlearning.
And I have a feeling I’m not done yet.
Want support in the quest of unlearning & creating a sustainable & creative business?
My books are now open for Power Move.