What Project Hail Mary Taught Me About Therapy
I love films that make me think.
Not because they teach psychology.
Because they reveal humanity in places I wasn’t expecting.
Watching Project Hail Mary, I expected space, science and problem-solving.
What I found was a masterclass in curiosity, communication and what it really means to meet another being where they are.
As I watched Grace and Rocky learn to understand one another, I found myself thinking…
“This is therapy.”
Grace isn’t a blank slate.
This really struck me.
Grace arrives carrying his own story.
His own fears.
His own regrets.
His own shame.
As his memories slowly return, he doesn’t simply remember facts.
He has to process them.
He has to grieve.
He has to face the parts of himself he’d rather avoid.
One of the biggest myths about therapists is that we’re somehow detached from being human.
We’re not.
We’ve loved.
Lost.
Made mistakes.
Been hurt.
Healed.
Changed.
I don’t believe being human gets in the way of therapy.
I think pretending we’re not human does. I’m not a blank slate. I dont pretend I am.
That doesn’t mean therapy becomes about us.
Far from it.
It means our humanity allows us to recognise humanity in someone else.
Sometimes I’ll share something from my own life.
Not because I need my clients to know me.
Because occasionally, if it genuinely serves them, it reminds them they’re sitting opposite another human being rather than a textbook.
That decision isn’t casual. It’s an ethical one. Self-disclosure should always serve the client’s needs rather than the therapist’s. Used thoughtfully, it can reduce shame, strengthen the therapeutic alliance and help someone feel less alone. Used carelessly, it can shift the focus away from the client. The difference lies in intention.
Communication begins with curiosity, not expertise.
Grace is incredibly intelligent.
Yet his intelligence isn’t what allows the relationship with Rocky to grow.
It’s curiosity.
He doesn’t assume.
He experiments.
He watches.
He asks.
He changes his approach.
How often do we assume because someone has ADHD, autism, trauma or addiction that we already understand them?
Diagnosis tells us something.
Curiosity tells us far more.
The smartest person in the room becomes the most flexible.
This is my favourite theme.
Grace begins believing mathematics is the universal language.
It isn’t.
So he changes.
Not because he’s wrong.
Because connection matters more than being right.
That’s therapy.
Sometimes we communicate through words.
Sometimes through silence.
Sometimes through drawings.
Music.
Movement.
Gardening.
Puppies.
Cards.
Clay.
Walks.
Laughter.
As a therapist, my job isn’t to insist on one language.
It’s to discover which language my client speaks.
Safety comes before collaboration.
Rocky doesn’t automatically trust Grace.
Nor should he.
Grace gradually changes the environment.
He notices what overwhelms Rocky.
He adapts.
He creates safety.
Only then can they work together.
That reminds me so much of trauma therapy.
People don’t heal because we have good techniques.
They heal because their nervous system begins believing we’re safe enough to risk trying them.
Difference becomes their greatest strength.
They don’t succeed despite being different.
They succeed because they are.
Grace sees problems Rocky can’t.
Rocky sees solutions Grace never would.
Therapy can be like that too.
I don’t need my clients to become more like me.
Nor do they need me to become them.
The relationship works because we each bring something different.
Grace processes his own story.
This is something I thought about deeply.
He isn’t simply remembering.
He’s making meaning.
That’s what therapy often is.
Not recovering every memory.
Not changing the past.
Making sense of what happened.
Accepting our part where appropriate.
Letting go of responsibility that was never ours.
Integrating the story into who we are becoming.
The ending
The film left me with one overwhelming thought.
The greatest challenge wasn’t space.
It wasn’t science.
It wasn’t language.
It was relationship.
A frightened scientist.
A frightened alien.
Two completely different nervous systems.
Two completely different worlds.
No shared culture.
No shared language.
No shared experiences.
Yet they built trust.
Not because either one demanded the other change.
Because both were willing to remain curious.
Maybe that’s what therapy is too.
Not having all the answers.
Not fixing people.
Not becoming experts on someone else’s life.
Simply being willing to say…
“Help me understand your world, and I’ll do my very best to meet you there.”
I don’t know their sadness.
They don’t know mine.
However both of us know what it feels like to be human.
That’s the bridge.
Not shared events.
Shared humanity.
Carl Rogers spoke about congruence. Irvin Yalom writes about “fellow travellers.” Modern relational therapies recognise that therapy is not something done by an expert to a passive recipient; it’s a relationship between two people, each bringing their own humanity into the room.
When Rocky stopped responding…
There was one scene that stayed with me long after the credits rolled. I’m not gonna lie, I sobbed.
Rocky is unconscious.
Grace doesn’t know whether he’s asleep, critically ill or dying.
He sits beside him.
He talks to him.
He pleads.
He bargains.
He gets angry.
He tries to make sense of what’s happening.
He keeps checking for signs of life.
And even though Rocky can’t answer…
Grace keeps showing up.
Watching it, I found myself thinking…
I’ve sat in my own version of that place.
Not because my clients are there unconscious in front of me.
Its because sometimes therapy can feel like sitting beside someone while they fight a battle that I can’t fight for them.
There are sessions that stay with me.
Clients whose stories I continue to process long after they’ve gone home.
Times I’ve taken my thoughts to supervision because I care deeply and want to make sure I’m helping, not simply reacting.
There are moments where progress seems impossible.
Moments where someone feels stuck.
Where I wonder whether they’re beginning to believe there is hope.
And then…
One day…
Something shifts.
It might be a smile.
A different way of speaking about themselves.
A boundary they never thought they’d set.
A moment of laughter.
A sentence that begins,
“I’ve noticed…”
It’s only a tiny change.
Yet inside, I’m doing exactly what Grace did.
That metaphorical hug.
The quiet tears.
The overwhelming feeling of,
“You’ve done it.”
Not because I did it.
Because they did.
They found a way through.
People sometimes imagine therapists finish a session, close the door and move straight on to the next person.
I suppose some might.
I can only talk from my perspective - I don’t.
I carry pieces of our clients with me forever.
Not because I’ve lost my boundaries.
Because I care.
The difference is that I don’t carry them alone.
I have supervision.
Colleagues.
Reflection.
My own therapy.
That’s how I honour my clients without asking them to look after me.
Perhaps that’s another thing Project Hail Mary reminded me of.
The strongest relationships aren’t built on having all the answers.
They’re built on staying.
Remaining present.
Holding hope.
And never giving up on someone, even when they can’t yet see what you can.
“One of the greatest privileges of being a therapist (and there are many!!) isn’t having the answers. It’s having a front-row seat to human beings rediscovering themselves.”
The hardest part was saying goodbye.
For all the science.
For all the problem-solving.
For all the laughter.
The part that broke me was the goodbye.
Grace asks Rocky how his species says goodbye.
Not because he wants Rocky to become more like him.
Because he wants to honour Rocky’s way of doing it.
He meets him where he is.
Isn’t that therapy?
People often think the hardest part of therapy is talking about trauma.
Sometimes it isn’t.
Sometimes it’s ending.
Whether someone has been with me for six weeks, six months or six years, endings matter.
Relationships matter.
And pretending they don’t would never ever sit comfortably with me.
I don’t forget my clients.
I wonder how they’re getting on.
I hope they’re happy.
I hope life has become a little kinder.
Being invited into someone’s life, especially at one of its darkest points, is an extraordinary privilege.
One I never take for granted.
That’s why endings deserve to be acknowledged.
To be spoken about.
To be felt.
Because saying goodbye to someone who has mattered isn’t weakness.
It’s evidence that the relationship mattered.
Then the film did something unexpected…..
Grace is heading home.
The mission is complete.
And suddenly…
He discovers Rocky is in trouble.
He has a choice.
Carry on towards the familiar.
Or turn around and head back into the unknown.
There are no guarantees.
No certainty.
No map.
Only his gut.
And his relationship with Rocky.
He turns around.
Not because it’s logical.
Because it’s right.
Watching that, I smiled.
Not because I’ve travelled across space to rescue an alien.
Its because I recognised something.
There have been moments throughout my career where I’ve followed my gut rather than the obvious path. Turned in a different direction from the earthlings!
Offering a different kind of therapy.
Working outdoors.
Using creativity.
Sitting in hammocks.
Introducing Arthur, Peggy and Steve.
Sometimes sharing a small part of my own humanity when I believe it will genuinely help a client feel less alone.
None of those decisions came from a textbook.
They came from asking one question.
“What does this person need from me right now?”
That doesn’t mean abandoning ethics.
Quite the opposite.
It means holding ethics and humanity together.
Grace didn’t return because he couldn’t bear to let go.
He returned because the relationship had changed him.
I think therapy changes us too.
Not in ways that blur boundaries.
In ways that deepen our compassion.
Every client leaves something behind.
A new way of understanding the world.
A reminder of human courage.
A lesson I didn’t know I needed.
And I hope, in some small way…
I leave something with them too.
Perhaps that’s the real mission.
Not to rescue.
Not to fix.
Simply to meet another human being so completely that, when it’s time to part, both people leave changed.
Perhaps this is where the real story begins…
For most of the film, Grace’s goal is simple.
Get home.
Back to Earth.
Back to what he knows.
Back to what he thought his life should be.
Isn’t that what so many of us are trying to do?
To get back to who we were before the trauma.
Before the grief.
Before the addiction.
Before the diagnosis.
Before life changed.
Yet that’s not where Grace ends up.
He doesn’t return to Earth.
He ends up somewhere he never imagined.
Rocky’s planet.
A place that once felt impossible.
Completely different.
Completely unknown.
And yet…
When we see him there, he isn’t surviving.
He’s smiling.
He’s laughing.
He’s teaching a room full of curious young aliens.
He’s found purpose.
He’s adapted.
He’s become someone he never expected to become.
Watching that final scene, I realised something.
Maybe healing isn’t always about finding our way back.
Maybe it’s about discovering that life can still be beautiful somewhere we never planned to be.
I think about the clients I’ve worked with over the years.
None of them asked for or wanted trauma.
Or loss.
Or addiction.
Or anxiety.
Or ADHD.
Or the things that brought them into my therapy room.
Yet I’ve watched so many of them build lives they couldn’t even imagine when we first met.
Not because the past disappeared.
Because they discovered they could still grow around it.
I think about my own life too.
There have been times I’ve had no map.
No certainty.
Only a quiet feeling that this next step somehow felt right.
Starting my own practice.
Working differently.
Choosing creativity.
Choosing relationships over rigid technique.
Trusting my gut when I couldn’t yet see where it was leading.
If you’d told me years ago that I’d be sitting in a hammock with a client…
Or planting vegetables with a teenager…
Or helping someone understand trauma through puppies, blankets and cups of hot chocolate…
I’d probably have laughed.
Yet here I am.
And I wouldn’t change it.
The truth is…
None of us know what the next chapter holds.
Not me.
Not my clients.
Not Grace.
Not Rocky.
Life has a habit of surprising us.
Sometimes painfully.
Sometimes beautifully.
All any of us can really do is keep showing up.
Stay curious.
Be willing to adapt.
Care deeply.
Own it & repair when we get it wrong.
Celebrate when we get it right.
And trust that perhaps…
Just perhaps…
Being fully human is enough.
Because maybe the destination was never the point.
Maybe the relationships we build along the way are.
If you’re in a chapter of your life where nothing looks the way you thought it would… don’t be too quick to believe the story is over.
You might simply be on a different planet than the one you planned for.
And who knows? It might turn out to be the place where you finally become yourself.
Stay safe, stay connected & take gentle care
Louise x
