The therapist-in-therapy phenomenon — one of psychology’s open secrets, though “secret” might be overstating it. The simplest answer is that therapists are human beings, not omniscient wisdom machines in cardigans. They get caught in the same messy whirlpools of anxiety, heartbreak, family drama, existential dread, and late-night doomscrolling as the rest of us. But there are deeper, more systemic reasons they often need therapy themselves: like a mirror gazing into another mirror, reflecting infinity. The healer who heals must themselves be in a perpetual state of healing. It is not a flaw; it is the nature of the work.
You see, therapy is not a sterile transaction where one “healthy” person fixes another “broken” one. No, no. Therapy is an energetic exchange, a co-creation of a sacred space where the rawest aspects of human suffering are brought to light. In this dynamic, the therapist becomes a vessel for another’s pain, bearing witness, holding space, sometimes absorbing—consciously or not—the psychic turbulence of their clients.
This is why therapists are often drawn to the profession in the first place. Many are wounded healers, alchemists of their own pain, seeking to transmute personal suffering into compassionate service. But the shadow of this is that their own unresolved wounds can be reactivated, in subtle or dramatic ways, by the stories and emotions they engage with daily. The therapeutic encounter is not a one-way street—it is a mirror, and every mirror reflects back to the gazer.
If a therapist does not engage in their own ongoing self-reflection, their own therapy, they the boundaries between client and therapist blur, and the therapist’s own unconscious material can contaminate the space. This is known as countertransference—when the therapist projects their unresolved issues onto the client. Without rigorous inner work, the healer can become trapped in a cycle of unconscious reenactment, playing out their own dramas through the therapeutic relationship.
Moreover, therapists are constantly immersed in the landscape of human suffering— grief, trauma, anxiety, existential dread, and even frankly their patient's despair and suicidal tendencies. To navigate this without becoming numb or overwhelmed requires not only professional skill but deep inner resilience.
And then there’s the simple human truth: no one is beyond the need for guidance, reflection, or emotional support. To be a therapist is not to transcend the human condition, but to dive more deeply into it. The best therapists are not those who have conquered their inner demons, but those who have learned to dance with them, who remain humble in the face of their own complexity.
Since one cannot do physical or mental brain surgery on themselves, nor can one initiate themselves, one could even argue that the best therapists are the ones who get therapy, because it keeps them humble, self-aware, and less likely to start believing their own press releases.
So therapists who engage in their own therapy are not hypocrites—they are practitioners of integrity. They recognize that the journey inward is infinite and endless, that the labyrinth of the psyche has no final exit. They model what they teach: vulnerability, self-awareness, the courage to seek help. Therapy, for the therapist, becomes a sanctuary where they can unload, process, and renew their own psychic equilibrium.
So therapists often need therapy, not as a sign of weakness, but as a profound commitment to authenticity. Because you can only guide others through territories you are willing to walk yourself. The healer must continually return to the well to remember why they chose to be a healer in the first place. It's almost a job requirement.