Sometimes My Clients Get Angry at Me, and Why That’s Such a Good Thing
- 3 hours ago
- 5 min read
For nearly 14 years, I've helped individuals navigate the complex landscape of addiction in order to achieve recovery. Nicknamed "The Casual Counselor", my approach is unconventional but undeniably effective.
Ahhhhh, “therapy”, what does that word make you think and feel? For most of us, it conjures a peaceful sanctuary in which a beautiful, plush velvet couch sits, a box of tissues on the side table, and a soft-spoken, gentle, kind helper asking, "How does that make you feel?"
And that tracks. It does. But is the therapeutic sanctuary always and exclusively empathetic, sympathetic, and perpetually warm? While those elements are the building blocks, or bricks, of the foundation of the therapeutic alliance, the answer is, “Hell no! Not on your life!”
Sanctuary is great. Our own cozy respite, a place where we feel lovingly heard, seen, known, and, well, loved. Those cannot serve as the all the time catalysts for change. If you’re in the business of helping people heal within the wholeness of themselves, you need to honor all of it. And “all of it” can be some pretty gritty shit sometimes.
It’s because we helpers are human looking glasses. “I’ll be your mirror,” Nico, may she rest in peace, reminding us that real therapy is a vivid reflection of the real world, which can get real serious sometimes. Worlds. The world out there, and the world within. Real therapy is getting a really good look at it, and sometimes we’re going to get really pissed off at what the mirror is reflecting back.
Mirrors don’t lie to make a client feel better, especially when that client is in need of a nudge, challenged to examine forever-held beliefs and coping strategies, patterns that, objectively, we would definitely describe as toxic and unhealthy, or inconsistent patterns of practicing “dos”, new action steps they’ve never tried before. The list is too long to list, but you always lead these efforts with love if you want a shot at being a good enough helper.
I’ve been on the receiving end of anger, defensiveness, an impulsive urge to flee therapy, or sometimes fight. Hopefully with words, but I once had a chair thrown at me while I ran a group because “I skipped him” after he had already shared two times. Other people had stuff to share. Sometimes things break. But I also knew that he didn’t launch the chair because I didn’t call on him. It was a trauma response. He missed me by about eight feet, by the way.
Industry speak calls these moments “therapeutic ruptures”, and they’re actually where the most profound work happens. Can’t get a handle on a rupture with a person who truly believes in you, supports you, and loves you, loves you more than you even know? Good luck on the jagged, sharp edges of a serious and often callous world that doesn't give an atom of a damn about your triggers. Buckle up.
Therapy must not be a vacuum, an always-biased echo chamber. It’s more similar to an organic psychological ecosystem that grows within a society that’s commonly indifferent, systemic, and cruel. A broken world in many ways. Lots of breaks. We go see a helper, and with us, we bring hope along with myriad traumas born from things like violence, systemic oppression, betrayal, resentment, self-hatred, despair, and desperation. Grief. Sometimes, suicidality is from incomprehensible hopelessness.
Things are going to break in the world: death, possible societal collapse, divorce, and job loss. When disaster strikes, those aren’t lighthearted “tea party” sessions. When disaster strikes, our job is to acknowledge, honor, and reflect back these moments because they’re real. They are really happening. If therapy’s goal is helping our people learn how to live again, we need to reconcile that it’s going to be predicated on survival mode, true grit, and some cold, hard work. It. Is. Going. To. Suck. It is. Then it gets awesome. Many people pull the ripcord before that shift because the shift to awesome can take a long freaking time.
Compassionate and tender, in that place that most often serves as our sanctuary of peace and refuge, you’ll sometimes hear raised voices, brutal honesty, loud silence, and harsh criticism aimed at the helper. Some people, even some professional helpers, might call this “a violation”. I call them signs of life.
It gets hot when the volcano blows. Feelings suppressed for literal decades. Deep wounds. Secrets draped in shame that have never been spoken aloud. Getting called out for feedback you offered or an observation you noticed. It isn't pretty. And neither is life sometimes. If you’re going to help people in the most effective way, depending on where they are coming from, gentle and loving might provide them a disservice. The wholeness. The full spectrum of the human experience. You don’t extinguish the fire from the volcano. You lean in. And, yeah, you get burned. But burns heal.
Those sessions? I always ask myself, “I wonder how they’re feeling?” Because those sessions have me feeling shook. We forget so often: therapy isn’t intended to be a luxury. It’s a model built on high-stakes necessity.
Picture a swimming pool. There’s the shallow end, and the deep end. You’ll always find more people in the shallow end because it’s safe. Even fun. We can feel the floor beneath our feet. We know we’re not in danger. It’s an easier and more optimistic place. Therapy, real therapy, that’s the deep end. A couple of people, maybe. But no one is holding hands or tossing a beach ball. The deep end takes work. It’s also only safe if we’re taking action to tread water or dive under. There are also many more interesting things to be found in deep places. But we need to be cautious. Cautious because people get lost in the deep end. They can drown.
Once, during an assessment in my small office, a burly guy suddenly became convinced I was an undercover policeman. He was experiencing psychosis mixed with alcohol. If I hadn't been able to de-escalate the situation and steer him from my suite, well, I would have had a hard time if he had gotten violent with me. That’s life sometimes. Things get serious without a moment’s notice.
Life is not always gentle, and therapy, at its most honest, is a reflection of the ecosystem of life. All of life. It’s not only going to be the glory of kindness or the ascension to self-love. It’s not really up to us anyway. But the willingness to confront what’s happening in the room when things get ugly, that’s the ultimate empathy. That’s an act of love. Don’t turn away. Not from the good, the bad, or the ugly. Confront it. Just always remember to lead with love, the love of the vast wholeness of you, me, and everyone you see.
Read more from Joshua Bennett-Johnson
Joshua Bennett-Johnson, Licensed Counselor & Owner of JBJ Counseling
After working for 7 years in an amazing clinic, I launched into private practice in 2018. I love my job. I can say that without reservation. Watching people rebuild their lives is something that is worth more than any dollar amount.
