Journalists and therapists have more in common than people may think.

Story by Molly Todd | Illustration by Evan Upchurch

Most people may not think of a therapist and a journalist as having much in common. I would disagree. Ever heard of Therajournalpistism? Probably not. I just made that word up. I may know little about being a therapist and I am not a professional journalist yet, but I know what it’s like being counseled for over a year and starting a career as a documentarian.

At age 18, we are expected by today’s society to choose our life for the next four years and beyond. Once we’ve chosen the university we will be attending, not soon after we may be asked, “What do you want to do with your life?” And these questions don’t stop even when you think you’ve come to a decision.

I thought I had my decision made before setting up my dorm in Fairhaven. I would major in psychology, do the masters program at Western and go on to become a marriage counselor. Because I know so much about marriage right? Jokes aside, I had thought psychology would best suit my personality and be how I could best offer my services in this world.

I’m a good listener. I find people fascinating and their stories even more so. But after finishing one year at Western and a quarter abroad, and without taking a single psychology class, I applied for a major in journalism. I may have been thinking, What am I doing? I don’t read the news every day, I don’t know what working at a daily newspaper is like. But what I did know is that along with my strengths I thought to have had as a “pre-therapist,” I was also a good writer.

Though I may not yet have enough knowledge or credentials in the journalism field to tell you what you need to be a successful journalist, you must understand that it requires far more than simply being a good writer. The decision to switch careers stemmed more from what I lacked to become a therapist than what I had to become a successful journalist. Knowing myself, I could not handle working with the heaviness of being a therapist.

Michael Brus, a Slate journalist turned psychiatrist, made the opposite career switch, only he did it deep into his post-collegiate life.

“At the start of my career transition, I was interested in the workings of the mind and the brain, but I also knew, from my experiences in life and as a social worker, that I could tolerate and effectively work with the sadness, anxiety, and anger that patients bring into the clinic with them day after day,” Brus wrote.

Fast forward two years, after meeting with a therapist for almost 18 months straight, I found that the questions my therapist asked weren’t too far off from the ones I asked my sources as a student journalist.

I realized I would be less mentally affected by listening to traumatic stories if I were a journalist, rather than being a therapist and feeling responsible for fixing the person’s issue. However, it’s important to explore and acknowledge that journalists, too, experience PTSD from hearing, witnessing and telling stories of trauma. It is a common assumption that journalists hear stories, write them and forget them.

Fast forward two years, after meeting with a therapist for almost 18 months straight, I found that the questions my therapist asked weren’t too far off from the ones I asked my sources as a student journalist.

“Like therapists — who through the process of ‘transference’ can vicariously experience their patients’ emotional pain — reporters may also experience a type of indirect, secondary trauma through the victims they interview and the graphic scenes to which they must bear witness,” Ball State University assistant professor of journalism Natalee Seely said of a 2019 study.

The issue could be the underappreciation or lack of exploration into how reporting can cause trauma in journalists or the stigma surrounding the work we do. Take away what you will from my account and experiences, but to assume there are no similarities between therapists and journalists would be cutting the conversation short. At times, I feel like I need to repeat the same questions back to my therapist and get the full story as a natural storyteller.

Exploring the ways in which these two careers are similar may lend to an appreciation for the power that journalists have over telling stories, and that we’re not just people writing stories. At times, we could be caught in the middle or faced with ethical issues of whether or not to step in when a situation gets dangerous or out of line.

Listening to or telling traumatic stories is brave and much harder work than some people may think. This is an ode and a thank you to therapists and journalists around the world for the work they do to listen to people’s stories and to offer support, ethics and empathy when it’s needed.

In some ways, I am writing this story for myself. I also want other student and professional journalists to realize what we may be getting ourselves into. It would be naive to walk into this profession and assume you can simply tell stories and then turn your back. We experience people, stories and places that stick with us forever, for better or for worse.