When The Door Won’t Open, it May Not be Meant For You
In times of crisis, great stress, and disappointment, my mom has often told me, "Bren, that door was not meant for you." For many years, I was resistant to this idea—at times, it even felt dismissive. I mean, how can this possibly be right? I fought so hard, only to be passed over or experience a devastating loss. Of course that door was meant for me! And with the slam of the door, there went my dream. I would feel scared and lost—and sometimes, angry over a perceived injustice. It can feel paralyzing, demoralizing, and difficult to move forward—particularly when the loss is connected to your identity and how you experience yourself in this world.
Building Resilience Through Therapy
I'm incredibly passionate about my work, making it a vital part of how I understand myself within the context of the world. This passion is a strength in that it allows me to give one hundred percent to my clients and show up fully in the therapy room, even at times when I may be struggling with something in my own life, and it serves as a powerful buffer against burnout. My identity as a psychotherapist with expertise in trauma grounds me and gives me an understanding of the core pillars in my life. This is not to say I believe my work is above that of my colleagues or that I never make a mistake. Clinical work is not a precision science—nor is it intended to be practiced in such a way.
It is imperative that clinicians engage in their own therapy, explore the experience of transference, and process their own history of trauma. Those who do their own vulnerable work are then able to work at a depth with their own clients that can't otherwise be replaced by training or education alone. When we sit in the client's chair ourselves, we develop a visceral understanding of what vulnerability truly requires—the courage it takes to name our pain, the discomfort of being truly seen, and the transformative potential of a therapeutic relationship. This lived experience fundamentally changes how we show up for our clients. We become less likely to rush past difficult emotions, more attuned to the subtle ways defenses manifest, and more patient with the non-linear nature of healing.
Learning to Embrace the Unexpected
Over the years, with a number of highs and a few very significant lows, I have learned to embrace the belief that life has this intuitive way of course-correcting when we veer too far off path. It's a funny paradigm shift—and yet, there's an unusual peace that washes over you in the moment. It doesn't allow you to avert the difficult feelings; it doesn't take away the loss and grief. It does, however, shift you into a state of mobilization which allows you to channel your energy into an option available to you—it gives you access to forward movement. It moves you out of self-preservation and into a space where you can envision, create, and connect to new possibilities.
Let me share a personal example with you: A number of years ago, I found myself newly licensed, working full-time in a community mental health setting, and beginning to build my private practice at the same time. This is a common experience for newly licensed clinicians, but it is certainly demanding!
The commitment to building a private practice means very long days, an authentic and consistent devotion to networking, and often, limited time for family, friends, and self-care, which can result in burnout. It's not for the weak of heart—and it's not something you can successfully achieve with half-hearted effort. But I believe in playing an infinite game, so there's no room for a finite game mentality!
Although exhausted and spread thin, I was aware of the importance in paying my dues in the field, and I knew the demands of a full-time job on top of private practice clients was not the endpoint for me. It simply wasn't sustainable long-term, nor intended to be so, and it wasn't aligned with my long-term career goals. Nevertheless, the security of a full-time agency job, with a health care plan and benefits, can be incredibly seductive when the decision to leap into full-time private practice came with no promises and no guarantees. I took the leap anyway.
