🛑🧠 You Were Never Safe

We’ve heard this a lot lately. From clients. From colleagues. From other therapists who are quietly wondering if it’s time to leave the field altogether.

A therapist was killed by a client. Late at night. In an office. And suddenly people are reviewing safety policies, rethinking career choices, and asking questions that should probably have been asked a long time ago.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth.

You were never safe.

We do not say that to be edgy or alarmist. We say it because pretending otherwise is part of the trance.

Leaving an office late at night alone was never safe. Assuming policies would protect you was never safe. Believing someone else could carry responsibility for your safety was always an illusion.

And here’s the part that really matters clinically. The distress many people are feeling right now is not coming from increased danger. It’s coming from the collapse of a false sense of safety.

That is a very different problem.

One of the core themes that came up in our conversation is something you see every day in therapy, whether you name it or not.

People substitute confidence in systems for confidence in themselves.

It shows up everywhere.

Confidence in the political system.
Confidence in the profession.
Confidence in institutions.
Confidence that someone else has it handled.

And when those systems wobble, people panic. Not because danger is new, but because responsibility comes rushing back.

From a trauma perspective, this makes perfect sense. Attaching identity to something external feels safer in the short term. It reduces anxiety. It provides structure. It tells us who we are without requiring us to discover it ourselves.

But it creates a long-term problem. You cannot control a system. And when your identity is attached to something you cannot control, you become psychologically codependent.

That is not resilience. That is borrowed stability.

This came up in the podcast and it is worth repeating here because it is such a clean metaphor.

Buying on credit feels good now.
Paying in cash hurts now.

But the interest compounds quietly.

Offloading responsibility feels good in the moment. Let someone else handle safety. Let someone else handle the system. Let someone else carry the weight.

But the interest shows up later as anxiety, resentment, fear, and identity collapse.

Responsibility hurts more up front. It requires awareness. It requires effort. It requires accepting uncomfortable realities.

But it is vastly safer in the long run.

This applies to safety.
This applies to parenting.
This applies to clinical work.
This applies to identity.

Let’s name something plainly.

This profession is dangerous.

Not just physically, although sometimes that too. But psychologically, emotionally, existentially.

We go places most professions never touch. We sit with material that does not belong in polite conversation. We witness despair, rage, grief, shame, and terror on a daily basis.

And then we are expected to go have a normal conversation at a dinner party.

If you have ever tried to explain your job to someone outside this field, you already know how absurd that is.

This work requires an internal stability that cannot be outsourced.

Policies help.
Procedures help.
Boundaries help.

But none of them replace personal responsibility, situational awareness, and an honest appraisal of reality.

If this profession teaches you anything, it should be this.

No one is coming to save you.
And that is not bad news.

One of the most meaningful metaphors we discussed was the Buddhist practice of sand mandalas.

Monks spend days, sometimes weeks, creating something intricate and beautiful. They are not allowed to photograph it.

They are encouraged to become attached to it.

And then, when it is complete, they sweep it away.

Not as punishment.
Not as loss.
But as practice.

The lesson is not that nothing matters.
The lesson is that identity is not in the thing.

The mandala that matters is the one that changes who you are while you create it.

This is what healthy endings look like.

Not denial.
Not clinging.
Not pretending something should last forever.

Integrity.

Being able to say,

“I handled that with awareness, responsibility, and presence.”

That is true in parenting.
That is true in therapy.
That is true in careers.
That is true in life.

Here is the grounding truth we want you to hold onto.

Your identity cannot be taken from you.

Your responsibilities cannot be outsourced, but they also cannot be stolen.

Your values, your integrity, your capacity to love, your ability to think critically and act courageously, those things remain yours even when everything else changes.

That is the only real safety.

And when you live from that place, fear loses much of its grip.

Not because danger disappears.
But because you are no longer pretending it was someone else’s job to manage it.

We know some of you are questioning whether to stay in this profession.We know some of you are exhausted.We know some of you feel shaken.

That makes sense.

But do not confuse awareness with hopelessness.

Choosing to stay.
Choosing to raise children.
Choosing to do deep work.
Choosing responsibility in uncertain times.

That is not reckless.That is hopeful.

Never apologize for raising dragon slayers in a time of dragons.

And never forget to examine your trances.

What assumptions are you living inside?
Who are you expecting to keep you safe?
What would change if you accepted that responsibility belongs to you?

We would love to hear your thoughts. This is nuanced work and it deserves conversation.

Write back. Tell us what stirred. Tell us what challenged you. Tell us where you disagree.

We are grateful to walk this road with you.