How to Be a Therapist When the World Is a Dumpster Fire
Let’s be real.
Being a therapist in 2025 feels a little like trying to meditate in the middle of a fireworks show.
Every week, something new explodes - politically, socially, environmentally, emotionally.
You’re doing your best to help clients find calm in the chaos… while secretly wondering,
“Cool, but where’s MY calm supposed to come from?”
Same.
Here’s the thing - the world is kind of a dumpster fire right now.
But that doesn’t mean you can’t show up as a solid, grounded therapist (and human).
It just means you need a different playbook.
So, let’s talk about how to be a therapist when everything feels like it’s on fire (and not in a fun, “hot girl summer” way).
1. Stop pretending you’re not affected
There are so many messed-up beliefs about what it means to be a therapist.
Like you have to have it all together and be the strong one all the time.
And don’t even get me started on the whole “blank slate” thing.
I get the idea… but also, do you really want to ugly cry in front of someone who’s just staring at you with an emotionless zombie face?
Yeah. Didn’t think so.
You’re not a robot, and trying to act like one doesn’t help your clients. It just hides your humanity (which, by the way, is your actual superpower).
It’s okay to not only say, “Yeah, things are hard right now” but to also show a little emotion when you do it.
Your clients don’t need a shiny, unbothered version of you. They need to see what it looks like to be real and resilient at the same time.
But here’s the flip side.
Being real in the therapy room doesn’t mean carrying the whole world home with you.
You can’t pour into your clients if you’re running on caffeine, cortisol, and vibes.
So, feel the hard stuff. And then take a break.
Stretch. Breathe. Laugh. Touch some grass (literally).
You deserve the same care and space you give everyone else.
Don’t be this guy:
2. Shrink your circle of control
You can’t fix the world. (I know, rude.)
You can’t single-handedly end systemic injustice, stop the climate crisis, or repair every relationship your client is venting about.
You can’t even guarantee your own Wi-Fi will hold during a telehealth session.
But you can control a few small things. And that’s where your sanity lives.
Like:
How you start and end your day.
How often you actually eat lunch away from your laptop.
The kind of energy you bring into the room (even when that energy is, “I’m here, and I’m tired, but I care”).
When the world feels like it’s spinning out, focusing on what you can do keeps you grounded.
You can help one person regulate their nervous system.
You can offer a moment of calm.
You can model what it looks like to have boundaries and still show up.
That’s not small. That’s the whole point.
Therapists tend to underestimate how much those “small” things matter because they don’t look flashy.
But you don’t need to solve global despair to make an impact.
You just need to show one human what safety feels like. And sometimes that human is you.
So before you try to fix everything, pause and ask,
“What’s actually mine to carry right now?”
The answer will almost always be smaller than your stress level thinks it is.
3. Keep your own nervous system off the edge
You can’t co-regulate anyone if your own nervous system is hanging on by a thread.
And yet…So many therapists are running on caffeine, panic, and vibes.
You’re listening to other people’s pain all day, fielding crises, managing a business, paying bills, trying to parent, partner, or at least eat something green once in a while… and then wondering why you’re completely cooked by Thursday.
Newsflash: You’re running a system designed to melt down under that much input.
So do the things you’re always telling your clients to do (yes, I’m talking to you):
Take real breaks
Move your body
Drink something that isn’t coffee (or alcohol)
Go outside on purpose
Say no, even when you could technically squeeze it in
You don’t need a week-long retreat in Bali.
You need to build micro-moments of regulation into your day. Like 5 minutes of quiet, a slow breath, or a real meal.
Because you can’t hold space for anyone if you’re white-knuckling your way through your own burnout.
4. Turn off the news (seriously)
A few years ago the world was going through some…stuff.
I was struggling with my own mental health and had just started an SSRI.
The nurse called to check in to see how I was doing and the convo went something like this:
Nurse: Are you experiencing feelings of hopelessness?
Me: Yes, I watch the news
Nurse: Are you having trouble sleeping?
Me: Yes, I watch the news
Nurse: Maybe you need to stop watching the news…
Let’s just admit it: doomscrolling feels productive.
It tricks your brain into thinking, “I’m staying informed! I’m being a responsible citizen!”
But you’re not actually helping democracy by reading the comments section at midnight.
You’re just spiking your cortisol and guaranteeing another night of restless, stressy sleep.
Here’s the truth: you can be informed without being immersed.
Check the headlines once a day, from a source you trust, then close the tab.
If something major happens, someone will tell you. (Probably five people, actually.)
Your job isn’t to absorb every global crisis in real time. Your job is to stay grounded enough to help the people in front of you survive it.
You can’t hold the whole world.
You can barely hold your inbox.
And that’s okay.
The world doesn’t need more exhausted, heartbroken therapists glued to the headlines.
It needs more calm, regulated ones who can remind people that safety and sanity still exist somewhere.
By the way, I stopped watching the news all the time and my mental health improved…a lot.
Maybe it was placebo or the meds.
Or maybe it was not exposing myself to non-stop heartbreak and trauma.
All I know is…that shit did wonders for my mood.
5. Remember you’re part of the antidote
Therapists tend to minimize what they do because it’s not flashy.
You’re not marching in protests every day or writing policy (though sometimes you probably wish you could fix things that way).
You’re sitting in a room, day after day, helping people make sense of their pain, their patterns, their lives.
And that might not look like world-changing work from the outside.
But it is.
Because every time you help someone feel safe and empowered, you’re creating a ripple of calm in a world that’s losing its grip.
Every time you help someone regulate, you’re quietly teaching them how to show up differently for their kids, their partners, their coworkers.
Every time you help someone stop blaming themselves for being human, you’re lowering the collective temperature just a little.
That’s not “small.”
That’s the antidote to chaos.
What you do is revolutionary.
It’s just the slow, invisible kind that happens one nervous system at a time.
So if you’re feeling tired, discouraged, or like what you do doesn’t matter, please hear this:
You’re holding a line most people can’t see.
You’re doing sacred work in an absurd world.
And we need you (tired, imperfect, real you) now more than ever.
How to keep showing up (even when the world feels like too much)
The truth is, the world will probably stay messy for a while.
But that doesn’t mean you’re powerless in it.
You’re part of a quiet revolution.
The kind that doesn’t make headlines but changes lives every single day.
You’re proof that empathy, humor, and presence still matter.
So take the walk. Eat the snack. Send the invoice. Call your therapist.
Laugh with your clients when it’s appropriate (and maybe sometimes when it’s not).
Keep bringing your humanness into every room you walk into.
Because that’s the antidote.
And if you’ve been wondering how to keep doing this work without running yourself into the ground, we’ve got you.
We’re creating something to help you build a business that feels good (even when the world doesn’t).
More on that soon.
For now, just know this: you’re doing sacred work in an absurd world… and that’s no small thing.
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