It’s a quiet truth that rarely gets airtime, particularly in professional circles that are rooted in attunement, empathy, and deep listening: therapists get lonely, too.

Not “I haven’t talked to anyone all day” lonely—though that happens. The loneliness we’re talking about is deeper and quieter. It’s the kind that sits just behind the eyes while we’re nodding, empathizing, formulating the right next question. It’s what lingers after a day full of holding space for others with little to no space held for ourselves. And we push through anyway, because that’s what we’re trained to do. But as clinicians, we need to start being honest with each other: the loneliness that’s saturating so much of modern life? It’s in our consulting rooms, too.

In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General released an advisory that, while targeted at the general population, may as well have been written directly to clinicians. In Together: The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World, Dr Vivek Murthy writes, “Loneliness is far more than just a bad feeling—it harms both individual and societal health.” The effects are physical, measurable: research has found that loneliness is associated with a 29% increased risk of heart disease, and 32% increased risk of stroke. And we are not immune. In fact, many of us are especially at risk.

Although this warning can feel dire, it’s a clear demonstration of the importance of making and keeping friends – even with an already demanding schedule. 

Why Therapists Are Especially Vulnerable

Let’s name it: a lot of us don’t have coworkers. Maybe a clinical supervisor or group chat with peers, but no daily banter over coffee, no decompression walk around the block, no “hey, did you see that TikTok” between sessions. There are no spontaneous moments for connection—only the scheduled ones. Even in group practices or agency settings, the way we work is inherently isolating. Private practice therapists may go entire days without talking to another adult who isn’t a client. And even when we do interact with peers, those relationships might stay professional. For some therapists, the clinical/personal boundaries are rigid. 

Then there’s the time factor. You might care deeply about connection, but that doesn’t change the math. There are only so many hours in a day. Schedules are maxed out – not just with clients, but with documentation, admin work, insurance billing, CEU, crisis management, supervision. When are we supposed to fit in friendship? 

We’re trained to contain. To hold space for others. To be the steadiest person in the room. But when you’re always the emotional anchor, it can be hard to remember what it feels like to be seen.

If you’ve found yourself craving connection and simultaneously too drained to seek it out, you’re not the only one. Not even close.

What Loneliness Does to Us —and the Work

This is where things get sticky. Because loneliness doesn’t just affect mood. It’s a drain on cognitive and emotional capacity. It blunts our attunement. It makes it harder to access the parts of ourselves that make therapy effective: curiosity, compassion, deep listening.

You might start to feel less present in sessions. You find yourself zoning out more, feeling fatigued faster. Or maybe you’re more susceptible to countertransference – your client’s stories about isolation or friend loss hit a little too close. Maybe you overshare in supervision, or hold back with peers because you feel embarrassed by your own unmet needs.

None of this makes you a bad therapist. It makes you a human one. But it does mean something needs to shift.

What Friendship Looks Like Now

One of the traps that we can sometimes fall into is expecting friendship to look like it did before graduate school. Back then, it was long dinners and aimless Saturdays and shared apartments and classes and commutes. It was frictionless. Proximity did the heavy lifting.

That’s not our reality now. Friendship sometimes takes a bit of conscious effort. It’s more like water in a leaky vessel—you have to keep filling it, in small, consistent ways, or it dries up.

The good news is that these efforts don’t have to be grand gestures. Maybe it means a standing voice memo exchange with a college friend. Or a monthly walk-and-talk with another therapist in your area. Maybe it’s joining a Slack group where you can be yourself, not just your clinical self.

Friendship now is flexible, digital, asynchronous. It counts, even if it doesn’t look like it used to. 

How to Make—and Keep—Friends 

Making friends as an adult is difficult – and that goes for everyone, not just therapists. But in adult friendships, initiative is everything. Here are a few low-lift strategies to reintroduce connection into your life that might be worth considering: 

• Do a friendship audit. Ask yourself: who fills your cup – even just a little? Who do you miss? Who would you want to be closer to if life weren’t so busy?
• Text someone. Today. It doesn’t have to be poetic, you don’t need a plan. Just a simple, “I thought of you, how are you doing?” is enough.
• Join something where it’s ok to be bad. A painting class, a climbing gym, improv classes, a local meetup. Let yourself be a beginner. 
• Peer pods: Create a monthly Zoom with 2–3 clinicians you trust. Half clinical, half personal. All human.

• Scheduled spontaneity: Block off an hour a week labeled “Friendship.” Use it however feels right.

Most importantly, don’t let perfectionism keep you from reaching out. Block time for friendship like you would a supervision meeting or an intake call. It’s not frivolous. It’s part of staying emotionally healthy.

Friendship Is Clinical Self-Care

We don’t talk about friendship in our ethics codes or CEU trainings, but we should. Because it’s not just about avoiding burnout—it’s about modeling relational health. We’re not just clinicians. We’re human beings, and our ability to show up in the therapy room is shaped, in part, by how supported we feel outside it. Better at holding nuance. Better at modeling connection. Better at noticing when your clients’ loneliness mirrors your own.

So this is your permission slip, if you need one: call your friend. Join the thing. Say yes to the casual invite. Make the group text. Not because it makes you a better therapist (though it will). But because you deserve it.