When the Healer Hurts: Chronic Pain and the Therapist's Humanity

As therapists, we hold space for others—week after week, session after session—offering insight, empathy, and tools for healing. We witness grief, anxiety, trauma, hope, and resilience. But what happens when we, the helpers, find ourselves hurting?

Lately, I’ve been navigating a persistent case of chronic lower back pain that has drastically impacted my ability to sit or stand for long stretches. As someone who has built a life and a career on presence—physical, emotional, and energetic, this pain has been humbling, frustrating, and at times disorienting.

This experience has reminded me of something we don’t talk about enough in the mental health field: therapists are human too. We have bodies that break down, nervous systems that get overloaded, and emotional landscapes that shift with the seasons of our lives.

The Myth of the Always-Steady Therapist

There’s an unspoken expectation in our profession to be steady, grounded, and endlessly available. Many of us internalize the belief that our own needs should be managed quietly, efficiently, and—if possible—outside of the therapy room. Chronic illness, injury, or personal hardship can feel like a betrayal of the role we’re “supposed” to play.

But this illusion of invincibility is not only unrealistic—it’s harmful. It isolates us from our own humanity and from each other.

Sitting with Discomfort: A Lesson in Self-Compassion

Chronic pain, like chronic emotional overwhelm, asks us to slow down. It demands presence. It refuses to be pushed aside. And in that way, it has offered me a surprising invitation: to practice the very things I ask of my clients.

I’ve had to reassess boundaries, adjust my schedule, experiment with new supports, and—most challenging of all—give myself permission to not have it all together. I’ve had to ask for help. I've had to rest. I've had to honor my limits without shame.

And what I’ve found is this: our vulnerability is not a liability—it’s a portal to deeper empathy, authenticity, and connection.

Therapists and Chronic Pain: The Silent Struggle

Many therapists live with invisible illnesses, chronic pain, mental health diagnoses, caregiving responsibilities, or grief of their own. Yet we rarely share these truths publicly, often out of fear that it will compromise our professionalism.

But I believe that normalizing these conversations is a vital part of modeling wholeness. We can be deeply skilled, ethical, and boundaried and still be on our own healing journeys.

In fact, our lived experiences often deepen our capacity to attune, empathize, and sit with the hard stuff.

What Helps: Three Grounding Practices for Therapists in Pain

If you're navigating your own pain or fatigue, here are a few practices that have helped me stay connected to my purpose while honoring my body’s limits:

1. Micro-adjustments in the therapy space
   Invest in a supportive chair, cushions, use a standing desk for part of the day, or offer walk-and-talk sessions if that’s available to you. Small environmental shifts can reduce strain and help you stay present with clients without worsening symptoms.
   

2. Build your personal resourcing toolkit
   Just as we help clients build coping tools, we need our own. This might include breathwork, gentle somatic practices, short breaks between sessions, or even a moment of grounding with your hand on your heart. Regulation isn't optional—it’s essential.
   

3. Create a circle of care
   Whether it’s peer consultation, supervision, therapy, or trusted friends, we need spaces where we can show up as humans first, therapists second. Chronic pain and emotional labor are easier to bear when we’re not carrying them alone.
   

Holding Space for Ourselves, Too

If you’re a therapist reading this who is quietly struggling—whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually—this is your reminder that you are not alone. It’s okay to take up space. It’s okay to pause. It’s okay to care for yourself with the same tenderness you offer your clients.

We can honor our pain without being defined by it. We can lead with transparency, compassion, and professionalism. And we can support one another in doing the work and being human at the same time.