“Am I a Bad Therapist If I Cry?” Why Your Tears Can Be a Bridge

If you’ve ever felt tears rise in session and thought, “I just blew it. I’m a bad therapist,” you’re not alone. 

For many of us, that fear is baked into our training. We were told to stay neutral, to keep emotion at bay, and to believe that crying in front of a client was a sign of weakness.

But what if our tears aren’t a failure at all? What if they can be a bridge, a way to show our clients that we are fully human and fully with them?

The Messages We’ve Absorbed About Crying in Session

Most of us have heard some version of:

• “Crying is weakness.”

• “Real therapists don’t get emotional.”

• “If you can’t handle it, maybe you don’t belong in this field.”

These aren’t just passing comments. They land like verdicts. 

They seep into our nervous systems and convince us that our humanity is dangerous. That the very thing that makes us compassionate and present is also the thing that might get us labeled “too soft,” “too emotional,” or “not cut out for trauma work.”

So we armor up. We swallow the lump in our throat. We pull back when our eyes sting. We over-function and over-intellectualize, all in the name of being “professional.”

But the cost is high. 

That hyper-control pulls us out of the room. It keeps us performing steadiness instead of actually being steady. It makes us question our belonging in this work every time a tear dares to rise. And underneath it all, it leaves us carrying the secret fear: “If I’m moved to tears, maybe I really don’t belong here after all.”

The First Time Tears Came for Me

I remember the very first time I cried in session. I was a young therapist, sitting with a mom and her child after a serious injury. Her worry was so raw and so heavy that I couldn’t hold back my own tears.

Because the session was being recorded for supervision, panic hit instantly: I’m in trouble. I failed. I can’t let anyone see this.

In my fear, I left the room emotionally. My attention went straight to how I would hide this from my supervisor. And in leaving, I abandoned my client and her son — not intentionally, but because shame pulled me out of connection.

When I did bring the tape into supervision, I expected disapproval. Instead, my supervisor teared up too. She paused the recording, looked at me, and let her own tears fall.

That moment changed me because it was the first time I was given explicit permission to be human in my work. And because she modeled it, I now carry it forward with the therapists I supervise.

What I Know Now About Crying in Session

That supervision moment planted a seed that has grown across my career. When I’m asked today — by interns, colleagues, or BRAVE members — if it’s okay to cry in front of a client, my answer is YES.

And not because a textbook told me so, but because I’ve lived it.

I still cry in sessions. In fact, maybe even more than I did early on because I’ve seen how much it can deepen trust and connection. 

I’m not talking about sobbing or making the session about me. But when my eyes well up, I don’t hide it. And yes, sometimes those tears fall.

It’s still scary. And it’s still okay. Because every single time, I’m reminded that my tears don’t derail the work. They don’t turn it into the “Me Show.” They show my client that I’m right there with them — fully human, fully present.

A Reflection for You

Now I want to invite you into a gentle reflection.

Think of a time you cried in session,, and specifically a time when shame came up. Maybe you thought, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m not good enough. Maybe I even failed my client.”

Hold that moment gently. Now zoom out. Imagine the session through your client’s perspective. Did they recoil? Or did they stay with you? Did they feel more seen, more understood, maybe even safer because your humanity showed up?

Notice what shifts in your body as you hold that possibility.

Why This Matters in BRAVE

And as you notice what has shifted in your body, remember that our tears don’t disqualify us. 

They don’t mean we’re unprofessional. They mean we’re human. And it’s in our humanity that the deepest trust and healing can grow.

This is why I created BRAVE, because none of us can carry this work alone. 

Inside BRAVE, we tell the truth about what this work asks of us. We hold space for the parts that feel heavy, and we celebrate the moments of vicarious resilience that remind us why we stay.

If you’re looking for a place where you don’t have to explain why the tears come, where you can show up as a therapist and as a human, BRAVE is here for you.