As a therapist, you often spend your days helping others navigate love. Attachment styles, boundaries, identifying all colours of flags, emotional availability, love languages—you’ve unpacked it all. But your own dating life? Oh, that’s a whole different kind of chaos.
First of all, What Even Is Love? Apart from how Sternberg defines it in his theories
At this early career stage, love is both an existential crisis and an organizational nightmare. Do you want something casual? Situationship-y? A real connection? But do you even have the time for any of it? Between clients, unfinished notes, and whatever self-care that you have been recommending your clients (but are unable to follow by yourself), love feels like a mammoth task.
And isn’t this supposed to be your hustle era? The era of upskilling, networking, chasing goals, and somehow still making space for your friends and family?—where does love even fit into that equation?
Then there’s the autonomy vs. dependency dilemma—a constant tug-of-war between your identity, individuality, and the deep-seated parental shadow that lingers over your choices. You need to stand on your own, yet the want for emotional connection remains undeniable.
The Dating App Fatigue: A Therapist’s Personal Hell
Let’s talk about the “Apps,” where the search for a genuine connection meets the brutal reality of a market driven by first impressions. It’s not that you don’t appreciate physical attraction, but when everything boils down to a split-second swipe, it’s exhausting. How do you reconcile years of learning to appreciate the depth of human experience beyond appearances with an algorithm that prioritizes symmetry and well-lit photos?
You tell yourself it’s just a tool, but the repetition wears you down. The real problem? You may not be made for small talk. You don’t want to talk about weather or what someone had for lunch—you want to get to the good stuff. What drives them? What scares them? What makes them stay up at night staring at the ceiling? (Though rushing into deep conversations too soon- is another minefield altogether) Suddenly, you’re oversharing, coming on too strong, or expecting emotional depth from people who just wanted to discuss their latest Spotify playlist. You crave connection, but you’re also painfully aware that not everyone is built for it, at least not at your pace.
When Reading Between the Lines Becomes a Curse
And when you do match with someone interesting? Well, your therapist brain doesn’t just shut up. You’re trained to recognize patterns, spot inconsistencies, and hear what’s left unsaid. Sometimes, you wish you could unsee the red flags, just enjoy the moment. But after spending years fine-tuning your emotional intelligence, ignorance isn’t bliss—it’s impossible.
And if by any chance, you’re a people-pleaser? Oh, you’re doomed. Absolutely doomed. Because suddenly, dating isn’t just about whether you like someone, but whether they like you. You start molding yourself, suppressing your needs, stretching your emotional bandwidth—because, hey, isn’t that just what you’re trained to do?
But eventually you wake up, emotionally drained- unsure if you even like this person or are just too busy making sure they feel heard.
The Emotional Bandwidth Black Hole
Let’s say—by some miracle—this someone also passes your therapist-level scrutiny. Great! Now comes the next challenge: actually having the energy to invest.
Because after spending all day in deep emotional labor, the last thing you want to do is another emotionally charged conversation. It’s not that you don’t care—it’s that your battery for empathy is flashing red, and your brain is begging for silence.
And then there’s the “giver complex.” You hold space for others all day, but when it’s your turn to lean on someone, it feels foreign. Are you struggling because people expect too much? Or—brace yourself—are you expecting too much from yourself? The exhaustion from carrying others doesn’t always leave room for carrying yourself.
Last but definitely not the Least- Is There Hope?
Of course, there’s hope. There always is. That’s what you tell your clients, so you have to believe it too, right? Dating as a therapist is exhausting, confusing, and downright disastrous. But despite the burnout, despite the swiping fatigue, despite the part of you that just wants to retire into emotional solitude, you know that somewhere out there, someone will see you not as a therapist, but as a flawed, tired (yet hopeful) human.
So, you keep swiping (begrudgingly). You keep putting yourself out there (while constantly questioning why). And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find someone who won’t need you to analyze them, fix them, or hold space for every crisis they encounter. Maybe they’ll just let you be you.
At the end of the day, even if we are emotionally exhausted, wish to be left alone but crave for a safe space of our own, we still love being who we are
– A THERAPIST.