Do Therapists Actually Care About Their Clients?

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"Thank you for being so understanding," I sniffled as my therapist handed me a tissue. A second later I added, "I know it's your job," trying to walk back some of the deep gratitude I had expressed to Aaron. I wasn't sure the unconditional acceptance I had felt from him fully counted since he was my therapist.

"It's not just a job, Seth," he said with sincerity, and I knew it was true. The warmth and empathy—even love—that I felt were real.

In the nearly 25 years since that session, I've seen hundreds of people in therapy as a clinical psychologist. Many of my clients have expressed a similar reservation about our relationship—that, in some way, the fact that they're paying for therapy means it's strictly business.

It's not hard to understand this impression. One can easily wonder if their therapist is no more than a "hired gun," paid to dispense care and positive regard.

I can't speak for all therapists, but my own experience both as a psychologist and as a therapy client tell me that therapists care deeply about the people they treat. The same seems true for the scores of therapists I know, including the ones I'm close to.

At its best, therapy is a love relationship—the kind of love that M. Scott Peck described in The Road Less Traveled as "the will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing...another's spiritual growth." Love is a natural response to knowing someone in their full humanity, including their strengths and weaknesses, successes and failures, joys and sorrows. People bare their souls in therapy, and as therapists, we respond from the heart to that incredible degree of trust and vulnerability.

"I have to find something in each of my patients that I love," said the fictional therapist Paul Weston in the first season of the HBO series In Treatment. "Otherwise, I won't be able to treat them."

You can't buy a person's love or acceptance. Teachers, for example, are paid to be in the classroom, but their paycheck is not what makes them love their students. In the same way, therapists are paid not to care but in order to live. The session fee allows us to devote our time to therapy, knowing the practical side of our life is taken care of.

And while the exchange of money can introduce questions about motivation and sincerity, in truth it safeguards the unique power of the relationship. Therapy is different from every other personal relationship, for both client and therapist. While your therapist wants the best for you, their concern is unadulterated by any vested interest in your life choices.

The same cannot be said for relationships with parents, partners, siblings, children, even friends. If you're considering, for example, changing jobs, setting firmer boundaries, getting a divorce, or moving across the country, those decisions will affect the people you're close to. But your impact on a therapist does not extend beyond therapy itself. Even deciding to stop therapy simply means your therapist will start working with someone else. The therapy relationship is relatively unburdened by conflicts of interest, which frees the therapist to focus exclusively on your well-being.

When you start to question the love and care you feel from your therapist, be aware of those doubts. It's generally a good idea to share them with your therapist, who can help you to explore the assumptions your doubts are based on and to understand their significance. Your therapist might also help you to explore their origins—for example, perhaps it's hard to believe you're lovable, or a history of betrayal makes you suspicious when any relationship feels "too good."

The quality of the alliance with your therapist is one of the most consistent predictors of therapy outcomes. Working through important questions about the relationship helps to ensure that you get the most out of therapy.

To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.