• Maybe you’ve tried all the prescribed self-care strategies—exercise routines, another project management tool for that endless stack of post-it notes—but nothing seems to stick. Nothing acknowledges your unique challenges.

Maybe you know meditation would help, but somehow you never find the ‘right time’ to practice.

Maybe you preach self-compassion to your clients, while your own inner critic – shaped by systemic pressures and professional expectations - runs wild.

As life keeps “life-ing,” you find yourself feeling vulnerable, grappling with stress, grief, and loss. You try to quiet those self-sacrificing tendencies, so they don't scream too loudly for your clients to hear. Yet, the next day, you put on a brave face, code-switch into professional mode, sit in that therapist's chair, and continue holding space—while deep down, the stress slowly carves holes in your heart.

Perhaps you feel isolated, being the only therapist of colour, neurodivergent practitioner, or LGBTQ+ provider in your work setting. Vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue? They're right beside you, lingering like shadows. On top of that, you’re also carrying the additional weight of microaggressions, minority stress or invisible labour. Perhaps you struggle to find those who truly understand the emotional weight you carry daily.

At the end of the day, when your battery is flat, you might snap at your kids or partner, feeling guilty for yelling at your kids after another burnout-fuelled frustration. “Oh, I can’t be that perfect professional, parent or partner, as expected.” “You’re not showing up as the parent or partner you want to be.” You did it again. It’s a vicious cycle that standard self-care advice doesn’t address.

You’re not alone —over 50% of therapists experience debilitating burnout post-pandemic, with rates even higher among marginalised practitioners.

Your intersecting identities bring unique wisdom to your work. They also bring distinct challenges that standard self-care advice doesn't fully address.