It is common for a client or friend or family member to ask me how I do the work I do, and how exhausting it must be to “listen to people’s problems” all day long. I am honest when I reply that that is not how it feels to me. Certainly, there are problems, big and small, and some days are draining. And yet, here is what I have noticed…
First, I love my work. The most challenging conversation never feels like too much. Part of that comes from wanting to help an individual problem-solve, or because I know as they process and talk with me about what they walked in the door with, they will often gain their own clarity. Each new session feels like a gift, and I do not know what I am going to open. I am also easily energized by interactions with others (extrovert here), so it is hard to wear me down.
Another important part of my work is grounded in seeing firsthand the need in our community for the services Samaritan offers. Since January 1st, our phones have been ringing more than usual, and people are realizing it would be good to talk to a therapist in 2026. Lowering barriers to counseling has always been at the heart of Samaritan’s mission. What’s changed is our ability to meet that need in expanded ways. As a result, we have a downtown office, we accept PerformCare (Medical Assistance) and we employ over 30 therapists, so our wait time hopefully never gets too long.
I also noticed there is something else that happens to me every day that keeps me centered and focused. There may only be 5 minutes between clients and I will use that time to review my notes from the previous session, think about what I may want to address with them, even take a few breaths myself so I am ready for what they are bringing. On a day I am not at work and running errands or working around my house, it is not unusual for me to skip that recentering moment. Sometimes those are the days that I feel more exhausted because I have not used the structure of the counseling space to guide me.
My 2-year-old grandson has shown me that having big feelings and learning how to express them can lead to calm and joy. If one of his parents must leave when I am with him, he may become upset by this. He has been told they are going, he has given them a kiss and then they go. “Ahhhh!”, he screams, once, maybe twice. Maybe a few tears form in his eyes, and it is helpful if he has his favorite purple Care Bear to cling to in the moment. But, within minutes—even seconds—he is playing, laughing, happy. He has created a way to recenter himself, and move through complex emotions.
One of my favorite things is hearing a client reflect on coming in unsure the session would help, only to leave pleasantly surprised. This can happen even after their first appointment. I always end those intake sessions by checking in with them and asking how they are feeling after having talked to someone who was a stranger 50 minutes prior. We may laugh that what happens in my office, stays in my office; sometimes I point to the trash can to remind them they do not have to take anything with them that they want to leave there. This is also not unusual for my clients at any stage of recovery from substance use disorders. They often equate it with getting to an AA or NA meeting and how they did not want to do that either, but always feel better after they do.
We all have days when we feel off. Sometimes following a session I did not think went very well, or one I wished I could have said or done something differently, the client says, “That was so helpful.” And I am reminded that a steady, reliable presence may have been what they needed. I was able to be that for them. Equally rewarding is when a client says, “I will never forget what you told me,” and remembers a thought or comment I made in a previous session and tells me how they incorporated it into their life.
Samaritan exists in our community to foster hope and healing. This happens in the brave space of a counselor’s office by individuals who want to improve their mental, emotional and/or spiritual health. I get to do that every day with people who find they can tell me things they cannot, or have not, told anyone else. That is a privilege.
And I do not hold it lightly.
By Deborah Miller, Samaritan Center Therapist
