The best advice I ever received as an early‑career clinician didn’t come from a supervisor or a professor. It came from my first mentor: a woman who wasn’t formally a therapist, but somehow embodied the roles of counselor, nurse, teacher, and grandmother all at once.
Growing up, I watched my grandmother pour endlessly into others when I visited. Whether she was busy sewing tiny outfits for newborns or baking meals for families who needed a hand up, it never felt like it was at the expense of our time together.
When I commented in awe, telling her how special she was, she always received it graciously, but she made sure I understood something deeper: caring for yourself and caring for your own family is also a beautiful act of service.
She would say, “Remember, charity and love start at home.”
Not instead of caring for others, but as a steady place to begin. When I reflect on it now, I realize she was teaching the importance of self‑care long before it became a buzzword.
Years later, early in my professional career, a mentor often reminded me (honestly, it felt like all the time) that I might benefit from learning not to take things personally. She explained that if I carried every emotion and reaction home with me, it would wear me down, leaving little room to show up fully for myself or for others. Her words made me tear up more than once; they were hard to hear at first, even a little cold. I remember feeling resentful, thinking maybe she didn’t care deeply enough.
I was wrong.
Over time, I began to understand what she meant. We work with people in pain. Sometimes that pain spills over, and when it lands on us, it isn’t a sign we’ve done something wrong; it’s a sign we’re safe enough to hold their reality. But if you carry every reaction home, you wear yourself down until there is nothing left for your own life.
Self‑care in our field can sound cliché and hard to implement for sure. Honestly, I actually have to schedule it: stepping outside for a few minutes, making hot tea, taking Georgie the pup for a walk, or taking a breath between sessions.
It doesn’t have to be big. It just has to be intentional.
Care for yourself first. It’s what makes all other care possible.
