Myself as therapist

Annabelle Denmark LPC • May 1, 2025

What it means to show up authentically in sessions with clients

The Self of the Therapist: Showing Up as We Are


In the therapy room, we often talk about authenticity—encouraging clients to show up as their full selves. But what about us, the therapists? What does it mean to bring our whole selves into this work? For me, the answer lies in the intersection of grit, roots, and a refusal to pretend I’m someone I’m not.


I come from the north of France, a region shaped by coal, farmland, and war. Generations of my family worked with their hands—blue-collar, practical people who survived on resilience and realism. My grandmothers lived through occupation during WWII, raising families under scarcity and fear, and somehow never losing their sharp sense of humor. That legacy lives in me. As a therapist, I bring that same no-nonsense presence: I won’t waste your time with fluff, and I’m not afraid of pain, grief, or hard truths.

I’m an immigrant. I’ve lived in the U.S. for over 20 years. I’m French, and I’m white. That means I carry privilege—I don’t face racism or systemic barriers because of the color of my skin. But being an immigrant still leaves a mark. There’s a low hum of unbelonging I carry every day, a sense that no matter how long I’ve been here, I’ll never quite be “from here.” People notice the accent. The different references. The gap between how I see the world and how the culture around me operates.


For a long time, I minimized that part of myself. I didn’t want to take up space with my story or my differences. I was afraid it would center me instead of my clients. But a supervisor once told me something that changed how I work: “Use your privilege as a strength—not something to be ashamed of. That doesn’t serve you or your clients.” She was right.


Now, I lean into all of it. I don’t pretend to be neutral. I show up fully. ADHD brain, direct language, big heart, and all. I name mistakes when I make them. I check my biases. I laugh with clients, cry with them when needed, and speak plainly—especially when it's hard. I work with other neurodivergent folks, immigrants, people figuring out who they are in a world that tries to box them in. And I meet them where they are, because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re never quite “doing it right.”


The self of the therapist is not a polished, perfect figure who floats above the work. It’s a living, breathing person, shaped by history, pain, joy, and identity. My background—my quirks, my people, my accent, my privilege—is not baggage to hide, but material to work with.

Clients don’t need perfection. They need someone real. Someone who shows up, not just as a professional, but as a person. That’s the therapist I try to be—one who honors where I come from, and uses that to walk with others toward where they want to go.



Annabelle Denmark (she/they), MA, LPC is a therapist based in Lakewood, CO. They specialize in trauma informed (Parts work, EMDR and Sensorimotor Psychotherapy) individual therapy for neurodivergent adults 

You can find them at https://www.renegadecounseling.com


June 20, 2026
As a therapist, I have heard some version of this question more times than I can : " Why do I always attract the wrong type of people? People who take and take and never give back. People who ignore me. People who treat me badly." And here is the honest answer: you don't know any better yet. Not because you're broken or oblivious — but because your nervous system is doing exactly what nervous systems do. It's keeping you in familiar territory. Familiarity Beats Safety. Every Time. This is the piece most people miss. Your nervous system isn't wired to seek out what's good for you. It's wired to seek out what's known to you. So if all you've ever known are relationships where love was conditional, where you had to earn your place, where being neglected or disrespected was just... Tuesday — then that's what your system registers as "normal." And normal feels safe, even when it isn't. Here's where it gets interesting. A lot of people who grew up in those environments discovered a workaround: give more . Give enough, and people like you. Give enough, and you stay in control. The more you do for people, the more you're needed — and being needed feels like belonging. The problem? That vibe attracts people who need to receive but can't reciprocate. And being given to ? Being truly cared for? That feels downright threatening, because it's unfamiliar. Familiarity beats safety. Every time. So How Do You Change the Template? You don't change your relationship patterns by finding better people. You change them by changing what feels normal to you. Here's how: 1. Notice what happens when you receive. Pay attention to how you feel when someone gives you a compliment, does something kind for you, or offers help. Really notice it. Most people who grew up giving first, last, and always feel deeply uncomfortable in that moment — fidgety, dismissive, quick to deflect. That discomfort is data. It's telling you that your nervous system has spent decades turning away from receiving and toward giving. 2. Start asking for things. Ask for help. Ask for support. Ask for care. And then sit with how hard that is. This isn't about becoming needy — it's about practicing something your system has been avoiding for a long time. 3. Build your tolerance for receiving, slowly. When the discomfort shows up (and it will), don't run from it. Notice it. Sit with it. Send it a little curiosity instead of judgment. If you do parts work, this is a great place to get curious about the part that goes stiff when someone is kind to you — where do you feel it in your body? Does it have an age? What does it need? Give it some compassion. It's been working very hard to keep you "safe." 4. Orient toward the people who actually show up for you. This one's simple but not easy. Start paying attention to people who offer care without expecting anything in return. Notice how it feels to be around them. Watch how they treat others. And here's the key shift: focus on who you are when you're with them — not what you can do for them. Follow the discomfort. The people who make you feel slightly squirmy because they're just... genuinely kind? Those are the people worth your attention. 5. Let it become your new normal. The more you orient your energy toward people who care for you without keeping score, the more familiar that starts to feel. Slowly, effortlessly, your template shifts. You stop scanning for ways to be useful and start noticing how you feel . That's when you know something real has changed. The Bottom Line You're not cursed. You're not a magnet for bad people. You're just running an old operating system that was built to keep you safe in an environment that wasn't. And like any operating system, it can be updated. It takes time. It takes discomfort. And it takes being willing to let people actually care for you — even when that's the scariest thing of all. That's the work. And it's worth it. Annabelle is a Licensed Professional Counselor and the owner of Renegade Counseling, a telehealth practice specializing in complex trauma, dissociation, and neurodivergent-affirming care. She works with adults across Colorado and Washington.
a small wooden mannequin
By looka_production_137487489 February 25, 2026
A look at how Christina Applegate’s approach to naming her body parts mirrors parts work and Pain Reprocessing Therapy—helping people with chronic illness reduce fear, reframe pain, and rebuild a compassionate relationship with their bodies.