Therapists need to have a long experience in personal therapy to

Opening Scene

The dim light from the table lamp casts soft shadows across the small, quiet room. The evening air outside is still, the world seemingly paused in the deep hours of the night. Inside, the atmosphere is heavy with thoughts, like a conversation that has yet to find its form. Jack sits on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest. His gaze is distant, lost somewhere between his thoughts and the quiet of the world around him. Jeeny, standing by the window, watches the soft glow of the streetlights outside, her eyes thoughtful, like she’s waiting for the right words to come.

Host: The silence in the room feels charged, as if something profound is waiting to be discovered. Jeeny turns toward Jack, her expression soft but inquisitive, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Jeeny: “You ever think about what it’s like for someone to sit in the other chair? The one that’s not therapist, but client?”

Jack: “All the time. I mean, we always talk about therapy like it’s something for someone else, right? But what about the therapist? What do they feel when they’re on the other side?”

Jeeny: “That’s the thing. Irvin D. Yalom said that therapists need to have long experience in personal therapy themselves. They need to understand what it’s like to be on the other side of the couch. It’s not just about knowing the theory, but about understanding what’s helpful and what’s not.”

Jack: “That makes sense. It’s one thing to study it, to learn the techniques. But to really get it, you have to live it. You have to feel what it’s like to be vulnerable, to sit in a room with someone who’s trying to help you make sense of things.”

Host: The room feels almost tangible, as if the weight of their conversation fills every inch of space. The faint sound of a car passing outside reminds them that the world continues, but here, in this room, the stillness holds a deeper significance. Jeeny takes a step closer to Jack, her gaze softening, her words carrying a quiet wisdom.

Jeeny: “It’s easy to forget how important empathy is in therapy. Not just the theoretical understanding of someone’s pain, but the human experience of it. How can you guide someone through something you’ve never felt?”

Jack: “Exactly. Therapy isn’t just about the tools or the advice. It’s about how you connect with someone. And you can’t really understand that connection until you’ve been in the seat of someone who’s unsure, vulnerable, needing help.”

Jeeny: “And that’s what makes a good therapist different from a great one. The ones who have felt what their clients are going through, who have been in those uncomfortable, messy moments. They know that sometimes, it’s not about giving the right answer — it’s about just being there, being present.”

Jack: “So, you’re saying that to be a great therapist, you have to have experienced it yourself. You have to know what it feels like to be open, to let someone into your space like that, to trust someone with your truth.”

Host: The words settle between them, heavy with a truth that resonates deeper with each passing moment. Jack looks at Jeeny, his gaze softer now, his mind spinning through the implications of her words. It’s like they’ve uncovered something simple yet profound — the power of shared human experience.

Jack: “I never thought of it that way. We talk about therapy as something that helps people, but we forget that the therapist is also just another human being. They have to understand what it’s like to be vulnerable, to be unsure.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And that’s what makes their perspective so valuable. When you’ve been on the other side, you can see the moments that matter, the ones where words or silence can make all the difference. It’s like you’re no longer just guiding someone through a process — you’re walking with them.”

Jack: “It’s humbling, really. To realize that every therapist, no matter how skilled, has to constantly remind themselves of what it feels like to need help. To get past their own walls and be open to the process of healing.”

Host: The room feels lighter now, the weight of the conversation easing as they both begin to absorb the significance of the moment. The world outside is still, but inside, there’s a sense of quiet realization, a deeper understanding that both of them have begun to grasp. Jack takes a deep breath, letting the silence settle between them, his thoughts now focused on the power of empathy and experience.

Jack: “I guess, at the end of the day, therapy isn’t just about fixing someone’s problems. It’s about sharing the experience of being human. The mess, the doubts, the fears — all of it.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And in that sharing, there’s a kind of healing that happens. Not just for the client, but for the therapist too. When they allow themselves to truly understand what it feels like to be on the other side, they become more than just guides. They become companions on the journey.”

Host: The light in the room feels warmer now, the quiet hum of the world outside fading as the conversation wraps around them. It’s as if the room has taken on a new energy, a new depth. Jack and Jeeny sit quietly, the unspoken understanding lingering between them, a shared recognition that the heart of therapy — of human connection — is found in the simple act of truly being there for one another.

Jack: “I think I get it now. Therapy isn’t just about the techniques, the advice. It’s about the experience, the connection. It’s about being real with someone, about showing up, even when you’re unsure.”

Jeeny: “That’s it. When you’ve been on the other side, you understand that the most important thing isn’t what you say — it’s that you’re present, and you’re walking through it together.”

Host: The world outside continues on its steady course, but here, in the quiet stillness of the room, there’s a sense of peace that lingers, a reminder that the most meaningful connections come from shared human experiences, from walking alongside one another in the face of uncertainty.