In my last post, I shared how lived experience shapes who we become as counselors. But that experience isn’t just what draws us into this field; it’s also what defines our effectiveness once we’re in it.
Counselors are trained to be generalists. Our graduate programs do an admirable job introducing us to theory, lifespan development, culture, ethics, and techniques that span from early childhood to late adulthood. We learn a little about a lot. But to believe that we’ve covered the entire human experience with a master’s or even a doctorate is, frankly, absurd.
As we continue our education, through doctoral work, supervision, or continuing education, we don’t broaden so much as narrow. We specialize. We dig deep into one or two areas that call to us. Some counselors become experts in a theoretical approach, such as Adlerian, Gestalt, or Reality Therapy. Others center their work around a specific population or developmental stage, such as play therapy with children or reminiscence therapy with the elderly. Some focus on conditions, crisis work, suicidality, addiction, or anxiety work.
Each of these directions is valuable. But every path also reveals what we don’t know.
The Counselor and the Client Mirror
Our effectiveness isn’t defined only by our knowledge; it’s also shaped by the intersection of who we are and who we serve.
When I was a young counselor, I worked with anyone who walked through my door. At the time, I was married, raising young children, and juggling work and family like so many of my clients. That made it easy to connect with parents, couples, and others in similar stages of life. When a client asked, “Do you have kids?” it wasn’t a challenge; it was an opening for trust.
But when I sat across from an older couple, something shifted. I could understand their issues, but I felt the quiet sting of insecurity, the sense that my youth was a liability. Their eyes seemed to say, What could you possibly know about forty years of marriage?
Now, decades later, with a white beard and less hair on top, that dynamic has flipped. Clients seek me out because they assume I have “life experience.” I haven’t changed all that much as a counselor, but the years have given me a credibility that no degree could.
What Clients Really Want to Know
Clients often want to know: Do you understand me? Sometimes that means, Have you lived something like this yourself?
An addiction client might want to know you’ve seen the dark side of dependency, if not personally, then through enough exposure to truly get it. Parents want to know that you’ve handled 2 a.m. feedings, teenage defiance, or marital strain. And those seeking marriage counseling often hope you’ve walked the talk of a successful long-term relationship.
Of course, good counselors can be effective without those shared experiences, but only if they bring something comparable: deep training, evident empathy, a book, a credential, or simply the humility to listen well. When counselors get defensive… when we say, “This isn’t about me, it’s about you”, we risk signaling our own insecurity.
The truth is that our demographics matter to clients. They want to feel seen not only intellectually but existentially.
Growing into Wisdom
Over time, experience becomes the great equalizer. We gather more stories, more failures, more human data points that allow us to meet people where they are. We begin to understand not only theories of development but the lived process of it.
That’s how it’s always been. Long before degrees and licensure, counselors were the elders of the community; the ones who had raised families, built lives, and survived enough to offer guidance. Their wisdom came from living, not lecturing.
Modern counselors are part of that same lineage. We learn from textbooks, yes, but more so from time, humility, and life itself.
So, if you’re early in your counseling journey and worried about not knowing enough, take heart. You’ll grow. You’ll earn new credentials, yes, but more importantly, you’ll earn perspective. And that’s what clients really trust.
Take it from an older counselor. Some lessons can only be learned by living them.
Dr. Wesley