Do You Tell Clients You’re Sober?
Q&A with psychotherapist Kaitlyn Elizabeth
This series showcases conversations with experts who are sober themselves and working in the recovery space. Today’s edition features
, a psychotherapist, coach, and business owner from the Midwest who currently lives in Denver with her husband, son, and their two dog-like cats. Kaitlyn writes a newsletter called , where she demystifies therapy and brings therapeutic concepts out of the therapy hour and into your hands.How has your personal journey with recovery and sobriety impacted your work as a psychotherapist? Has it changed how you understand and show up for clients?
Sobriety is without a doubt the best decision I’ve made for myself in all areas of my life, and my role as a therapist is certainly no exception.
For the most part, when I’m with clients I’ve always been able to click into a flow state that is hard fought in other areas of my life. Sobriety has only enhanced this experience. There is an aliveness in my senses and in the confidence to say what’s happening in the room that hasn’t always felt as accessible.
If I were to put it more simply, I just notice so much more in sobriety—subtle movements of a client’s body, connections between something happening now and something from their history, sensations within my own body that could shed light on their experience and/or what is happening between us.
I know this probably veers into pollyanna territory, but I feel an abundance of choice and possibility. I also have a much easier time acknowledging when I don’t know something or I feel lost, which I find to be a tremendous relief to myself and to my clients.
Does becoming a psychotherapist typically include much education and training in addiction recovery? If so, does it focus on particular models of recovery?
In my experience, not really. I got my Master’s degree in counseling psychology. Addiction came up in passing in most classes, but (if I’m remembering correctly) we only took one class that focused on it.
That being said, it was one of the more memorable courses because of its experiential requirements. We were required to attend an open AA and a SMART recovery meeting. This was back in the early 2010’s, so I suspect hope other ways of approaching sobriety are being explored today, including the dozens of quit lit books out there.
It felt as though there were people interested in specializing in addiction recovery…and everyone else. It feels very meta for how addiction is treated on the whole: them (or this case, us) and everyone else. Except, of course, that’s not really how it works. We are all touched by addiction in some way. I believe it really should be part and parcel of any mental health training program.
This is just personal preference, but—speaking frankly—I wouldn’t feel comfortable going to a therapist who drinks alcohol. And knowing that a therapist was “out” as sober would be a huge selling point for me as a potential client. I’m wondering whether you tell existing and/or potential clients that you’re sober and, if so, whether this impacts who decides to work with you.
I appreciate you sharing that preference. I think it’s important as a client to be clear about any “no-go’s.”
When I knew sobriety was how I wanted to live my life, I reached out to a sober therapist I knew for her take. I had never really talked with her much about this part of her life (looking back, I can see this was intentional by the part of me who didn’t want to stop drinking). I asked a version of: “Do you tell clients you’re sober? And if so, how do you know when to share that?”
At that point, I was in my “This is so great, I want to shout it from the rooftops” stage of sobriety. I wanted her to say that she told everyone with reckless abandon. Of course that wasn’t the answer.
For her, shame was the signal to share. If she noticed a client suggesting she would never understand struggling with an addiction issue, this was her cue to disclose. I’ve since borrowed a line that she borrowed from someone else: “It’s just your turn on the couch. I get mine every Thursday at 5 p.m.”
My clients who read my newsletter know I’m sober. I’ve shared with a few clients outright about my sobriety to mixed reactions—ranging from indifference to appreciation.
One thing I am mindful of is any possible assumptions that could arise from knowing I’m sober (e.g., She thinks everyone should be sober). or concerns about my competence as a provider (e.g., If she could lose sight of her own struggles, is she capable of holding space for me?). If I hear/suspect those may be present, I talk with clients about it.
As a licensed mental health professional, do you find it tricky navigating how much you share in your personal newsletter? Including as relates to your sobriety?
Definitely. This is the trickiest part of having a newsletter—the part that, at times, keeps me up at night.
It certainly would have been easier to just write all this under a pen name. Sometimes I wish I would have just done that. But I also know that this “easy way out” would be hypocritical of what I work on with my clients all the time: finding the courage to do and say what is true to ourselves.
I’ve rarely written something that I would NEVER say to a client. That being said, I would never say as much about myself at any one time with a client. It’s their time, after all.
I’ve done some reflecting on how the expectation of a blank slate or selfless therapist is similar to the expectations of modern motherhood. In both cases, I think that framing could use a rewrite. In my experience, it’s not what I say but what I model. If my newsletter is a deep reflection of myself, what am I modeling by caging this part of myself?
Are there consequences to sharing something that a client may have a reaction to? Of course. Therapists need to be thoughtful about what they share and ready to respond with accountability if a client has concerns they want to air.
But there are also consequences to a therapist appearing to have it all together. It can create an othering effect. If a client thinks I’ll never get something because they perceive me as someone who doesn’t struggle all that much (or if they think no one else could treat them the way I do, because I have this mystical reserve of compassion) that is a disruption to intimacy and trust in the therapy room and beyond. Not to mention, it’s untrue.
It’s also unhelpful for the therapist to buy into that kind of above-it-all, selfless framing. I’m just a person who is really good at listening. It’s not magic, although it can feel that way at times. It’s a muscle. A muscle I developed out of necessity as a kid because of my own relational trauma, and now I strengthen it for myself and for those in my orbit.
This makes me more human, not less (in contrast to the “blank slate” approach to therapy).
Self-disclosure as a therapist is an evolving topic, as I believe it should be. The truth is that this field has patriarchal roots. Because of that, this practice needs to be continually challenged to make sure it’s meeting what we need as humans, not just repeating what’s been done before.
If you saw yourself as a client when you were newly sober or even sober curious, what guidance would you have offered? (I know that’s a big question and would likely fill many sessions, but whatever you can distill here would be great!)
This would be a great moment to utilize my preferred therapeutic modality: Internal Family Systems (IFS). This method posits that we all have a Self. The Self is our true nature, our essence. It’s this undamaged center we all innately have. It doesn’t need to be built, but rather accessed. We access it by better understanding the several different parts of us that sometimes get so loud it’s hard to hear our core Self.
In my case, there was a part that was drawn to sobriety, another part who thought that was controlling and restrictive, and another part who was worried about how sobriety would impact my relationships.
If I was working with someone like me, I would hear the newly sober part or the sober curious part and honor that, while also wondering about the parts that were scared to make or stick to that choice. The parts of us that want or wanted to drink or use aren’t bad. They’re often just really scared and need someone to attend to that fear and really listen.
Thank you, Kaitlyn! We’re grateful for your thoughtful responses and work in the recovery space and community.
We’d love for you (yes, you!) to share in the comments:
Has therapy played a role in your own recovery and sobriety? If so, what aspects were most helpful?
Is there anything else you’d like to share or ask Kaitlyn?
And if you found this Q&A helpful, please tap the little heart. It lets others know there’s something useful here and will help us grow this community.
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Thank you so much for sharing your experience and thoughtful, insightful responses, Kaitlyn!
Not to sound elitist, one-of-the-club, or you're only as good as what you've done, I know that only people who have experienced certain traumatic situations can relate to others in those situations.
Being clean and sober fits in that category. So do people who almost suicide. What's it like going to war, fighting for your life, and hating taking another person's life.
A Therapist, counsellor, psychologist who hasn't done any of that has got nothing to base their empathy on. Get them just out of college and it's a waste of time.
I want to know the person guiding me has travelled this path. That they're guiding me now means they made it back.