Sometimes My Clients Get Angry At Me, And Why That's Such A Good Thing in Therapy

May 18, 2026

Author of the Month

Joshua Bennett-Johnson, Owner, LADC-II, Owner of JBJ Counseling 

Tom O'Connor, Publisher

Ahhhhh, "Therapy" — what does that word make you think and feel? For most of us, it will conjure a peaceful sanctuary with a beautiful, plush velvet couch, a box of tissues on the side table, and a soft-spoken, gentle, kind helper asking, "How does that make you feel?" 

And that tracks. It does. But is the therapeutic sanctuary always & exclusively empathetic, sympathetic, and perpetually warm? While those elements are the building blocks or bricks of the foundation of the therapeutic alliance, the answer is:

"Hell no! Not on your life!"

Sanctuary is great! Our own cozy respite, a place where we feel lovingly heard, seen, known, and, well…loved, those qualities alone cannot serve as the all-the-time catalysts for change. If you're in the business of helping people heal for real within the wholeness of themselves, you need to honor it all. 

And, "all of it", can be some pretty gritty shit sometimes. 

It's because we helpers are human looking-glasses. "I'll be your mirror," Nico, may she rest in peace, reminding us: real therapy is a real vivid reflection of the real world, which can get real serious sometimes. Worlds, rather. The world out there, and the world within. Real therapy is getting a real good look at both worlds — and sometimes we're gonna get real pissed off at what the mirror is reflecting at us. 

Mirrors Don't Lie in Therapy

Mirrors don't lie to make a client feel better, and especially when that client needs a nudge, challenged to examine forever-held beliefs and coping strategies, patterns that, objectively, we would definitely describe as toxic and unhealthy — inconsistent patterns of practicing "do's" — new action steps they've never tried before. The list is too long to list, but you always try to lead these efforts with love if you want a shot at being a good-enough helper.

I've been on the receiving end of anger, defensiveness, an impulsive urge to flee therapy, or sometimes fight it. Hopefully with their words, but I once had a chair thrown at me while I was running a group because "I skipped him" (after he had already shared two times; other people had stuff to share). Sometimes things break. But I also knew he didn't launch the chair because I hadn't called on him. It was just a trauma response that got the better of him. He missed me by about 8 feet, by the way. 

Therapeutic Ruptures

Industry speak calls these moments "therapeutic ruptures", and they're actually precisely where the most profound work happens. Can't get a handle on a rupture with a person who truly believes in you, supports you, and loves you, loves you more than you even know??? — good luck on the jagged, sharp edges of a serious and often callous world that doesn't give a damn about your triggers. Buckle up.

Therapy must not be a vacuum. An always-biased echo chamber. It's more similar to an organic, psychological ecosystem that grows within a society that's often indifferent, systemic, and cruel. A broken world in many ways. Lots of breaks. We see a helper, and with us, we bring hope alongside myriad traumas born of violence, oppression, betrayal, resentment, self-hatred, despair, and desperation. Grief. Sometimes, suicidality occurs from incomprehensible hopelessness. 

Things are going to break in the world — death, possible societal collapse, divorce, and job loss. When disaster strikes, what follows ain't lighthearted "tea party" sessions. When disaster strikes, our job is to acknowledge, honor, and reflect these moments. Because they're real, they are really happening. 

If therapy's goal is to help our people learn how to live again, we need to accept that it's going to be predicated on survival mode—true grit—some cold, hard work. It's. Going. To. Suck. It is. Then it gets awesome. Many people pull the ripcord before that shift because the shift to 'awesome' can take a long freaking time. 

Compassionate and tender, in that place that most often serves as our sanctuary of peace and refuge, you'll sometimes hear raised voices, brutal honesty,  loud silence, harsh criticism aimed at the helper. Some people, even some professional helpers, might call this "a violation" — I call it signs of life, emotional healing.

Read More:

Why Client Autonomy is Considered Sacred In Substance Use Disorder Treatment 

It gets hot when the volcano blows. Feelings suppressed for literal decades. Deep wounds. Secrets draped in shame that have never been spoken aloud, getting called out for some feedback you offered, or an observation you made. It isn't pretty. And neither is life sometimes. 

If you're going to help them in the most effective way, where they are coming from, gentle and loving might provide them a disservice. The wholeness. The full spectrum of the human experience. You don't extinguish the volcano's fire. You lean in. And, yeah. You get burned. But burns heal.  

Those sessions? I always ask myself, "I wonder how they're feeling?" Because those sessions? They've got me feeling shook. We forget so often: therapy isn't intended to be a luxury; it's a model that is built on high-stakes necessity. 

Picture a swimming pool. There's the shallow end, and the deep end. You'll always find more people in the shallow end. It's because it's safe. Even fun. We can feel the floor beneath our feet. We know we're not in danger. It's an easier and more optimistic place. 

Therapy, real therapy, that's the deep end. A couple of people, maybe. But no one is holding hands or tossing a beach ball. The deep end takes work. It's also only safe if we're taking action to tread water and stay afloat, or dive deeper. There are many more interesting things to be found in deep places. But we need to be cautious. Cautious, because people sometimes get lost in the deep end. They can drown. 

Once, during an assessment, in my small office, a burly guy was suddenly convinced I was an undercover policeman. He was experiencing psychosis mixed with alcohol. If I hadn't been able to de-escalate the situation with my words and body language and steer him from my suite…Well, I would have had a hard time if he had gotten violent with me. That's life sometimes. Things get serious without a moment's notice. 

Life is not always gentle, and therapy, at its most honest, is a reflection of the ecosystem. All of life. It's not only going to be a story of the glory of kindness, the ascension to self-love — it's not really up to us anyway; but the willingness to confront what's happening in the room when things get rough — that's the ultimate empathy. That's an act of love. Don't turn away. Not from the good, the bad, and the ugly. Confront it. Lean in. Just always remember to lead with love—the love of the vast wholeness of you, me, and everyone you see. 

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