There were many.

One of the most profound unfolded a handful of years ago in Hong Kong, where I had started the city’s first therapy group for male refugees and asylum seekers.

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Shared TraumaConfronting My AssumptionsFinding What WorkedPower of Being WitnessedThe Lasting ImpactConclusion

Shared Trauma

The men came from as far afield as Rwanda, Yemen, Egypt, and Somalia and represented a variety of cultural, religious, and socioeconomic backgrounds.

Many had never even heard of Hong Kong when they fled their homes. But they would have flown anywhere to feel safe and belong. For them, staying put simply wasn’t an option.

One man, a political dissident, had been forced – at gunpoint – to watch his grandmother being raped; another had his house set on fire because of the religion he followed.

A third was a former boy soldier, desperate to escape his past; a fourth saw his 12-year-old daughter mutilated and forced into marriage.

Confronting My Assumptions

The night before our first meeting, I went for a hike and thought to myself, ‘How am I, a privileged woman, going to support these men? Will they even want to talk about their feelings?’

It soon became clear they didn’t. Nor were they moved by deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, or any of the other hackneyed techniques therapists usually rely on. It was time for me to rethink the couch.

Finding What Worked

So I asked them instead what would be helpful. They said learning a skill, regaining their confidence, ad being able to speak English better.

One man suggested we read a book together, so we started ‘A Long Way Gone’ by Ishmael Beah, about a child soldier in Sierra Leone.

We went around the room, each man reading a passage. Then we would pause and discuss all the ways in which the men did – and did not – connect with Ishmael’s story.

We read together, we talked together, and we cried together as the book became a springboard for the men to tell their own stories.

Power of Being Witnessed

By the time we were finished, we had tapped into reservoirs of hope, something none of us had thought possible.

These men wanted their stories witnessed, not their experiences pathologized. They wanted to be seen, feel connected, and have their pain and their hopes acknowledged.

They wanted to find a path to somewhere they could belong.

The Lasting Impact

I still think about these men.

They inspired my book, Rethink the Couch: Into the Bedrooms and Boardrooms of Asia with an Expat Therapist, published by Penguin Random House SEA.

And they taught me far more than I ever did them.

Conclusion

This experience fundamentally changed how I approach therapy – moving from a one-size-fits-all model to one that prioritizes what clients identify as helpful.

Sometimes the most powerful therapeutic tool isn’t a technique from a textbook, but the simple act of being present with someone’s story and creating space for their voice to be heard.

In doing so, we don’t just heal trauma – we restore dignity and hope.

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One experienced psychotherapist reveals why traditional neutral mediation often fails and shares the controversial method that actually works.

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Confession From a Couples TherapistA Moment of TruthThe Problem with Staying NeutralWhen Taking Sides WorksArt and Science of Taking SidesConclusion

Confession From a Couples Therapist

I love my work. Most days, I’ll talk to anyone willing to listen about the privilege I feel as a psychotherapist supporting people’s relationships.

But sometimes I lie about what I do.

Hear me out.

A Moment of Truth

It was a couple of years ago, and I’d just finished a session.

The couple were ‘fight, fight, fight’ before ‘fight, fight, fight’ was a thing.

I’d gained control by saying:

“This stops. Right now. Or I’m firing myself.”

Afterwards, I hopped on a bus in Singapore with no destination in mind, hoping only to stare out the window at the vibrantly colored shophouses and regain my center.

I sat next to an elderly man. He started making small talk, asking if I’d “had my rice yet” (a common way in Asia of asking how someone is). I told him I’d just finished work, and he asked what I did.

“I’m a flower arranger.”

A what?

I appreciate flowers, but I can’t arrange them to save my life.

Eventually, I took off the mask and told the truth.

The faucet opened. It always does.

He told me about his 50-year marriage. The high highs. The many Dark Nights of the Soul. The twists and turns. The blessings.

Then he shared his secret to half a century of marital success: “Don’t see a couple’s counselor!”

I burst out laughing, as did he. That moment still brings a smile to my face.

Because, depending on your counselor, it may be good advice.

The Problem with Staying Neutral

One reason therapy might fail is when counselors refuse to take sides.

The method I practice – Relational Life Therapy (RLT) – encourages the therapist to take sides. That perplexes most people. Is that fair, they ask?

Well, anyone who has mediated between two colleagues in an office likely understands. Rarely are problems 50/50, however diplomatically that might need to be said.

Therapists do a disservice when they pass the proverbial ball back and forth, hoping that leads to resolution.

When Taking Sides Works

I was recently reminded of this by an article in ‘The New York Times’, titled “How I Learned that the Problem in My Marriage Was Me.” It was written by one half of a couple I observed for eight hours while training under RLT’s pioneer Terry Real.

Without spoiling the story, Real confronts the writer, masterfully highlighting the need for him to recognize, take responsibility for, and change his behavior.

The result speaks for itself.

Art and Science of Taking Sides

But here’s the thing – taking sides is not easy. It requires skill and sophistication. I don’t take sides because I like a woman’s dress or think a man is a nice guy.

I gather data. A lot of data. I consider their goals, their appetite for change, their unique language, and obstacles likely to arise.

I let them know I will be taking sides. This is important because deep down we all take sides, openly or not. Clients can feel this anyway. There’s power in acknowledging what people already know.

Pretense only undermines trust, and that’s fatal for therapy. Just ask my friend on the bus.

Conclusion

The next time you’re sitting in a therapist’s office watching them nod neutrally while your relationship burns, remember the wisdom of that elderly gentleman on the Singapore bus.

Sometimes the most helpful thing a professional can do is stop pretending to be neutral and start being real.

Because in love, as in life, someone usually needs to be held accountable—and that someone might just be you.

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Sometimes these lessons come wrapped in beautiful experiences, while others arrive in more challenging packages.

This reflection explores the profound impact that colleagues, clients, and mentors can have on our personal and professional development, revealing how every interaction offers something valuable if we’re willing to receive it.

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Philosophy of Workplace GiftsThe Golden GiftsDignity and BelongingCommunity and PerseveranceEarly InfluencesThe Human StoriesThe Difficult Gifts

Philosophy of Workplace Gifts

I believe everyone we work with gives us gifts, even if sometimes they come in toxic wrapping. I’ve been working since I was 16, so I’ve had many years of work and plenty of gifts along the way.

I’ve had the good fortune to be surrounded by incredible people, every one of whom has given me something valuable: a lesson to take on my journey.

The Golden Gifts

Most of the gifts were gold and a pleasure to unwrap. There were the Japanese farmers, the Chinos, who gave me a job in California when I moved there at 16.

Working with them enabled me to put myself through college, fulfilling my own dreams and those of my parents. (My parents aren’t college graduates.)

Perhaps even more valuably, they took me under their wing and gave me the gift of a value system – curiosity, creativity, humility, and hard work were the values they seeded in me – along with a love for culture.

Dignity and Belonging

There were the men who had escaped Somalia, Yemen, and elsewhere, for whom I set up Hong Kong’s first therapy group dedicated to refugees and asylum seekers.

I’d hoped to teach them how to cope in their new lives; they ended up teaching me about the human need for dignity and belonging.

Community and Perseverance

There were the many Filipina and Indonesian domestic helpers I met and taught in Hong Kong.

These women leave behind their families, and often their children, to toil in a foreign land for a meagre wage to send back home.

Yet every Sunday, they turn the parks into kaleidoscopes of music, food, and chatter, as they dance, eat, and connect. Community and perseverance – that’s what they’ve taught me.

Early Influences

There was my maternal aunt who insisted I attend “Bring Your Daughter to Work Day” with her every year I could.

She taught me the importance of a strong work ethic from a young age.

“Don’t ever accept an invitation to slack off and be a princess,” she would say often.

The Human Stories

And, of course, there were the many clients who came to me for therapy, some of whom inspired my book and all of whom gave me lessons in the glories and struggles of being human.

They taught me to have reverence for every human story.

The Difficult Gifts

Looking back, I see every person I’ve ever worked with has given me something, whether I realized it at the time or not.

Therein lies the rub.

Not all the gifts we receive are so exquisitely packaged as those above. Writing my book and reflecting on my clients’ relationships and their experiences at work had me thinking about these other gifts, the ones we dread unwrapping.

Stay tuned.

Next week, I’ll share a story from my upcoming book about these particular gifts.

In the meantime, what are the gifts you’ve received along the way?

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