When I ask people who want therapy what they hope to get out of it, most of them say they want tools. Tools to cope better. Tools to manage anxiety. Tools to communicate. And yeah, I get it. I do teach skills. I give language. I help people understand what is happening inside of them. But one of the most powerful and least talked about parts of therapy is the relationship itself. And honestly, this is where the real work tends to happen.

When you work with a therapist, you are not just talking about relationships (to yourself or to others, depending on your goal). You are actively participating in one. Therapy is a relationship. And like any relationship, it needs to be rooted in honesty, boundaries, and authenticity for it to actually go somewhere.

Now, therapy is also a weird relationship. It is one sided in a lot of ways. We are in the room to talk about your life, not to make it about mine. And while many theoretical orientations will emphasize neutrality and minimal involvement so that whatever needs to show up for the client can show up, I do not believe relational healing comes from someone who performs neutrality, hides behind techniques, or sits there emotionally untouched by what is happening in the room.

I prefer a different approach.

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Therapy as a Model and Dress Rehearsal

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If we have a lunch session and I am hungry, I will eat.
If it is mid-afternoon and I need a snack, I will take a moment and grab one.
I will name what I am doing, and I will not pretend like I do not have needs.And I will remain open, or even invite, your reactions to it.

That part is very intentional.

Many of the individuals and couples I work with in the Houston area are highly capable, responsible, and deeply used to pushing through hunger, exhaustion, and overwhelm because that is what has always been required of them. Think doctors and health care providers, lawyers, C-suite peeps, high-achieving individuals who are used to keeping everything tight (hello, my fellow Type A moms), creatives, business owners, numbers people, and tech peeps.

Different roles, same pattern.

They skip meals.
They ignore their bodies.
They push past exhaustion.
They prioritize productivity and other people’s needs over their own.

And often, they do not even realize they are doing it because it has been normalized for so long.

So when I take care of myself in the room, something interesting happens. People notice. Sometimes it brings relief. Sometimes discomfort. Sometimes irritation. Sometimes a quiet “wait, am I allowed to do that too?” reaction.

Here comes the magic of therapy... drum roll

I am modeling being a high-achieving individual who also takes care of herself. But more importantly, we suddenly have real material to work with. We get to explore the relational space that is created between two people and figure out what actually works for everyone involved. (If you have been working with me for a while on relationship stuff, you already know my most repeated phrase is, “did you talk to them about it?”)

These moments open the door to conversations that actually change things. Not because I am trying to push buttons on purpose, but because therapy needs to stay real. These are the exact dynamics that show up in real relationships. Finding the balance between taking care of me, of you, and of us without anyone having to disappear or over-function.

What comes up for you when someone takes space?
Do you feel pressure to minimize yourself?
Do you feel annoyed but unsure if you are allowed to say anything?
Do you go quiet?
Do you over-accommodate?
Do you feel relief but also guilt for it?

One of the things I care most about in therapy is creating a relationship where you can speak up. Where you can say, “Hey, that felt weird,” or “That brought something up for me,” or “I wasn’t sure how to take that.” If something I do lands a certain way, we talk about it. If something does not sit right, we explore it together.

Over time, my clients get to practice naming discomfort instead of swallowing it. They get to see the impact they have on another person. They learn how to let others have their reactions without rushing to fix or manage them. They practice negotiating needs so there is space for everyone, not just the loudest or most convenient one. They say the uncomfortable thing and stay in the relationship anyway.

That is the damn work.

And no, this does not mean therapy becomes casual or unprofessional. Professional does not mean distant. It means congruent. What I say, what I model, and how I show up are aligned.

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Does it make a difference?

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Clients often tell me this feels different from past therapy experiences. Not because there are no boundaries, but because the relationship feels real while still very much being therapy.

People often come in looking for clarity or relief. And over time, what many discover is that experiencing a healthy, honest relationship quietly shifts how they show up everywhere else. When you are seen, respected, and invited into honest dialogue, something internally reorganizes.

One of my favorite parts of therapy is talking about the relationship we are building together. Because how you show up here is often how you show up everywhere.

So let’s do some real work together.

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