(and what I’m offering instead)
I have been a therapist since before I was actually a therapist.
My first round of training was with my family. When any of them were in pain, it hurt me so deeply that I wanted to help. I wanted to make it go away. So I was happy to listen to stories that were really for adult ears, to act as a translator between people who were old enough to speak for themselves.
At the time, I thought this was normal.
I got really good at listening to people and helping them process their pain. I would spend time on the phone with various friends who would speak at me for hours and never ask a bit about me.
Again, I figured this was normal. This was what it meant to be a friend, right? I mean, everyone told me I was such a good listener.
Eventually, I became an actual therapist. I earned my MSW and got licensed and had lots of letters after my name. Physical evidence that I could charge for what I had always been good at and praised for.
What Happened When I Became an Actual Therapist
About the time I could officially sign my name with all of those letters after it, I developed acid reflux.
I had all of the scopes and scans and tests to determine that I had GERD. Over the next 20 years or so, I would experiment with all kinds of medication, give up dairy and gluten, and get the GERD mostly under control. Enough that all the scans were clean.
But the stomach ache never quite went away.
At various times I thought I was making it up in my head. That I needed to lose weight. That I needed to gain weight. That it was because I was pregnant or postpartum, moving, drinking too much wine, not taking enough time for myself, exercising too much, exercising too little. All the while, doctors would tell me I was healthy. That I had nothing to worry about.
I continued to act like a therapist long after I gave up most of the letters after my name to stay home and raise my kids. One of the gifts of being in the trenches with small children every day is that it forces you to prioritize who you spend time with. I started to realize that some of my relationships depended on me always being the listener. It was like it never occurred to me that I could be anything different.
Gradually, over time, I moved away from those relationships, filling my calendar with people who didn't need me to be their therapist. People who are equally interested in what I have to say. Breaking this pattern was a first step. But I still didn’t understand how deeply entrenched the role of therapist was to my concept of myself.
Then I started building online support groups for adult children coping with a parent's affair. First in 2024, and then most recently with Authenticity After Family Betrayal. Building these groups meant meeting with people online to hear their stories and see if they were a good fit for the group. Between the research interviews and the discovery calls, I probably did over 100 calls.
Before each call, and sometimes during, my stomach would ache. I told myself I was nervous because this was new. That it would pass. That I was helping so many people. That I was so good at this. Wasn't that what everyone told me?
I was good at it. I knew that.
Then Something Shifted
Until about four weeks ago, when I was on a call with a lovely gentleman who lives an ocean away from me. He was tearfully telling me about discovering his dad's affair, wondering what to do, going over all of the betrayal and confusion that I had heard 100 times before. I knew just how to help him.
Except that, in that moment, something shifted. I realized, I don't want to live with a stomach ache anymore. I don't want to listen to people and their hurt and problems and be the person who helps them solve it. Even if I am good at it.
For most of my life, I believed that if you were good at something, it was your obligation to do it. Even if it didn't make you happy. I'm starting to believe that isn't true.
As I have written about, having to keep secrets can take over your life. Once you learn a pattern of keeping one secret, you start to question whether more and more parts of yourself are safe to share with other people. You learn how to ignore what is true for you as a way to keep yourself safe.
For me, that has often manifested in my body as a low-grade stomach ache. And as soon as I made the decision to pause the group, to let myself stop being a therapist in this particular way, the stomach ache went away.
I don't think that means I have figured everything out. In fact, I think this is the beginning of a period of figuring out what comes next. Which feels equally terrifying and freeing.
What am I sharing all of this with you?
First, I don't want to bullshit you. I believe that authenticity is the best way to live, and I am committed to walking my talk. As my writing teacher Lisa Cooper Ellison says, a true leader is one who does exactly what she teaches. That is what I strive to be.
Right now, walking my talk means admitting that something I was building doesn't feel right for me anymore. Even though I'm good at it. Even though people need it. Even though I believed I was supposed to do it.
Second, I know from all of the interviews I have done that many of you have also taken on this therapist role, especially with your families, instead of focusing on your own dreams, goals and lives. Perhaps, like me, you have stuck with it because it simultaneously doesn't feel quite right and also feels like a big chunk of who you are.
I really, really get it.
Maybe there is something you have been telling yourself you should keep doing simply because you're good at it? Maybe you don't have to.
So what happens to Authenticity After Family Betrayal?
I'm pausing it.
I still believe deeply in the mission and vision behind Authenticity After Family Betrayal: helping adult children cope with a parent's infidelity and rebuild a relationship with their family that feels good to them, so they can focus on their own lives.
I haven't stopped believing in that. What has changed is my relationship to the role I was taking in making it happen. Maybe someday I'll want to build it again, perhaps in a different form, from a different place, with different boundaries. Maybe I won't. For now, I'm giving myself permission not to know.
I'm not walking away from this work, however. I still believe deeply that there is not enough understanding about how a parent’s affair affects the kids. I simply want to explore what doing this work looks like when I am not in the role of therapist.
So Here is a New Kind of Offer
I know that discovering a parent's affair can leave older teen and adult children with specific questions that start with: What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Do I confront them? Do I tell them I know? Do I ask questions? Do I say nothing? What if they deny it? What if they get angry? What if they blame me? What if confronting them changes my relationship with them forever?
I've created a budget-friendly PDF to help adult children think through those questions and figure out if and how they want to approach their parents.
It's not therapy. Admittedly, it's not a substitute for having someone walk through this with you. It's a resource you can use on your own, at your own pace, to help you get clear about what you know, what you want, what you need, and what you might want to say.
Get the PDF: Deciding to Confront your Parent(s)...or not…About their Affair →
Right now, this feels much more aligned with what I can offer and remain stomach-ache free. :) I can take what I've learned and put it into your hands, and you get to decide what to do with it. While I get to practice something I'm still learning: I can be helpful without being your therapist.
If you made it this far, thank you for reading! I'm still figuring out what it means to build a life and a body of work that doesn't require me to be the person who takes care of everyone else. If you are in that place too, please leave a comment. I’d love to know what this struggles has looked like for you.