Why I Do This Work: A Therapist Reflects on Healing and Hope in Uncertain Times
Therapy is one of those sacred places to me where there are moments that are deeply intimate, not just between therapist and client, but between a client and themselves where they’ve never said something out loud before, something they’ve never acknowledged to themselves before and sometimes it’s wrapped in a whisper, or a laugh, or maybe shame. When it lands though, the room shifts and time stops just for a second, it feels deeply sacred to witness. I feel privileged to bear witness to those moments and I did not become a therapist for that reason, but that is the moment I am here for.
I became a therapist because I know what it’s like to carry invisible weight, to be the one who holds everything together, to grow up navigating multiple worlds, culturally, generationally, emotionally, and never feeling like you fully belong to any of them. Lately, that invisible weight has felt heavier for so many of us and not just because of our own personal history, but because of what is happening all around us on a systemic level.
We are living in a time where fear feels palpable, where basic human rights feel up for debate, where families are separated, identities are politicized, and safety feels tentative, especially for those of us who are Black, Brown, immigrant, LGBTQIA+, disabled, or first-generation. Here in Fort Worth, many are navigating a deep fear of not being protected, of being targeted, of losing their autonomy, of being silenced, or erased.
This climate is not separate from our mental health, it is directly tied to it. Chronic fear, generational survival instincts, and cultural pressures live within our bodies. They shape how we move through the world, how we connect with others, how we trust, and how we rest or how we don’t. That is why therapy is not just a luxury or part of a self-care routine, it’s resistance. It's a reclamation. The horrors persist, but so do we, in spite of it all, we must continue.
I work with people who have had to be strong for everyone else and are slowly learning how to be soft with themselves. People who carry intergenerational trauma, cultural expectations, and a deep desire to be the one who “breaks the cycle” for the future generations after them. People who are trying to rest even when it feels unsafe, who are trying to hope even when the world feels fragile and hopeless.
Therapy is not a fix all, but I do know when therapy is relational, trauma-informed, and rooted in the belief that healing is political, ancestral, and personal all at the same time, it can help people become less fragmented, less alone, and more resistant to the horrors outside.
I do this work because surviving isn’t enough. Because our communities deserve care that sees our entire identity, context, and history included. Healing in a world that wants you silent is revolutionary and I believe in the quiet power of people healing together. There’s hope in the shadows, hope in the behind the scenes work, hope in the anticipation of the work. I see that power every day and it gives me endless hope. We are not alone. Feel free to reach out here.
Sam Villarreal
Licensed Chemical Dependency Counselor and Licensed Professional Counselor Associate supervised by Melinda Porter, LPC-S