We all have one.

The side we don’t show to the world.

As therapists and supervisors, we are often invited into that hidden place for others. We get the privilege of seeing the parts people carefully choose to share – the pain, the confusion, the shame, the hope. The pieces that rarely make it into everyday conversation.

Yet our own unseen side is often overlooked.

Today, while I was in my “workshop” a private space that very few people ever see, it struck me just how much of this work happens quietly, behind the scenes. Writing. Reading. Photographing. Packing. Making inventories. Creating. Reflecting. Learning. A space filled with books, craft supplies, half‑formed ideas, notes scribbled in margins, and a constant desire to do better for the people I work with.

From the outside, people often see one version of us: the therapist in the chair, the supervisor holding space, the facilitator running a workshop. That is the visible part. The polished part. The end result.

What they don’t usually see is everything that comes before and after.

They don’t see the hours spent reflecting on sessions, designing workshops, planning women’s circles, putting together creative kits, organising materials, creating and refining interventions, practising, researching, questioning, and trying again. They don’t see the time spent sitting with theory, cross‑checking ideas, wondering if something will truly land safely and usefully for the people who attend.

I spend countless hours in this space, surrounded by creativity, textbooks, admin, and a deep commitment to learning ,not because I have to, its because I care. Because I want what I offer to genuinely benefit others.

Therapy is not just a 50‑minute session.

A workshop is not just the hours people attend.

A 2.5‑hour workshop can easily carry 8–10 hours of preparation and reflection, especially when it’s being delivered for the first time. When you look at it that way, it often works out well below minimum wage.

A client session requires hours of research, training, reflection & supervision.

So why do it?

Because it’s a passion.

Because it changes lives.

Because it’s part of who I am.

This work doesn’t switch off when the session ends. It lives in the background of daily life, musing while washing up, reading research late at night, sourcing materials, trips to the post office, supervision, admin, ethical reflection. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

This isn’t just a job for many of us.

It’s woven into our lives.

So if you are a therapist, supervisor, facilitator, or practitioner who has been feeling unseen lately, I see you. I know how much you hold. How much you give. How much thought, care, and energy goes into work that others may only glimpse for an hour at a time.

You are important.

Your work matters.

And it is deeply valued.

Please remember to take time for yourself. To step back now and again and look at your work from another angle. To really notice how much you do, and how much of it often goes unacknowledged or taken for granted.

There is so much more to this work than what is visible.

And that unseen side deserves recognition too.

And perhaps this is an invitation.

For clients: to value the courage it takes to show up, to attend sessions, to sit with discomfort, to reflect on patterns, and to do the work of change alongside everything else life demands of you. Therapy isn’t something you simply attend, it’s something you actively participate in, often quietly, often bravely, often without applause. That matters.

For therapists, supervisors, and facilitators: to pause and really take in what you give. The emotional labour. The preparation. The thinking, creating, holding, repairing, and learning. The way you show up again and again, even when it’s hard. There is deep value in that, whether or not it is always named or recognised.

And for all of us: to take moments to feel proud. Proud of who you are. Proud of the work you do, in your profession, in your relationships, and in your inner world. Growth is not loud or showy most of the time. It’s steady. It’s intentional. It’s human.

The work you do, on yourself and for others, matters more than you may realise.

And none of this is ever just an hour.

Stay safe, stay connected, take gentle care,

Louise x