I passed my level 3 counselling qualification and… I quit training as a counsellor

Some of you may know I was training as a person-centred counsellor, alongside my somatic practitioner training. I quit the former a few months ago, after passing Level 3. I was, for the most part, really enjoying studying with my peers and tutor in class each week, so it was a hard decision. I worried about how I’d ‘announce’ my change of path, feeling I must explain in the right way. I was navigating some of the shame of quitting, of feeling like a failure. (Not too much; I trusted myself and my choices, but it was there.) I know our life decisions are ours alone, requiring no explanation. Nevertheless, I’m sharing my thoughts, as this whole experience wasn’t wasted. It was so valuable for helping me get clear on the work I want to do.

The further I went in my training as a somatic practitioner, the more I realised this work, and the body’s wisdom, is where my passion really lies. In person-centred counselling, emotions are validated, but not explored to the depth I was becoming experienced with. I knew from my own inner work, too, that somatic healing is so profound. In traditional therapy, emotions are met with compassion, yet there’s an expectation to explain emotions, by talking them out. That’s valuable for some, no doubt. I’m not putting down talk therapy. However, others have told their story many times; some struggle for what to say when they’re expected to keep thinking; to keep talking about thinking. Personally, I end up stuck in my head, feeling cut off from my body’s deeper, truer wisdom.

I loved the humanistic approach’s compassion. It’s powerful to receive the core conditions of Carl Rogers’ theory; empathy, unconditional positive regard and congruence. Yet after doing somatic therapy, I saw when doing talk therapy again why I always felt I’d hit a wall after a certain point. Past therapists had helped me in various ways, but I never felt fully seen. It often felt like there was an agenda in the responses (though PCT theoretically discourages this) and I didn’t like the concept of ‘challenging’ clients. I rarely felt I could express emotions (I know this can be different if you find the right therapist). In counselling training, I was also labelled with things I didn’t ask for. I didn’t want to reduce clients to this, attributing their pain and challenges to a condition, rather than seeing them as a whole, evolving person shaped by life experiences (the whole point of therapy).

I think part of me was also holding onto an idea that I might be more respected if I trained in something intellectual. Oof. That was hard, yet powerful, to face. It went against everything I’d now learned, and how I’d come to deeply understand myself. Our innate intelligence, in the body, is far more underestimated than cognitive knowledge. For someone who had always struggled with overthinking, feeling disconnected from her body and emotions, I couldn’t ignore this. I needed to continue unlearning what I used to place importance on (e.g. intellectual thinking; academic accolades). I had to make peace with quitting something I might be great at, as I was being praised and told what a brilliant counsellor I was going to be. (External validation is so enticing...)

Ultimately, I had lost touch with why I started. I loved studying psychology in college at 16. Then over the pandemic, mid-30s, I felt a strong desire to be a therapist. I wanted to help people struggling with their mental health to feel less alone. I was working in that field, writing content for the UK’s biggest (and world-leading) mental healthcare provider. Like any good millennial, I’d also started a podcast (lol) - Same Shit, Different Brain, talking to guests about their mental health. The human mind fascinated me. Yet it was missing a really important piece - the BODY. I was about to take a deep dive into that, and somatic processing, after an ADHD diagnosis (more on that another day). So, I had to let go of ambitions I’d secretly had for 20 years.

Even without all those realisations, something had to give. If I were to progress as a trainee counsellor, I would have had to sideline The Loud Quiet, which made little sense when I was training as a somatic practitioner, too. I was basically hedging my bets; creating two careers, rather than jumping fully into my business and believing it would work out. Both my somatic and counselling training required very intense personal development; rightly so, to be a congruent, conscious practitioner with integrity. But between studying two different therapeutic approaches, practising weekly with peers, assignment deadlines, deep inner work, running a business and still freelancing as a copywriter, I was struggling to hold it all together and stay sane.

Ironically, I was doing so much self-analysis, I’d almost lost myself. I was struggling to discern between what was truth and what came from ideas planted in my mind, or from exhausted anxieties. It was physically, mentally and emotionally draining. I didn’t even see myself working as a talk therapist; I mostly loved the learning. I’d just wanted to help people love themselves more; I was already doing that, with TLQ. I wasn’t going to bring the energy, or presence, people deserved, if I continued as I was. I needed to slow down and soften; create more spaciousness in life and look after my body more. Nobody would benefit from a space holder so far stretched they could never say they were walking the walk in terms of the ideas and practices they shared and loved.

So I learned that just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we have to. I could continue pushing myself hard day and night, with no day off for weeks, sometimes months, but at what cost? Was it worth it? What would happen to my personal life, my relationship with myself? And was I going to ditch or diminish all my plans for The Loud Quiet, that had been developing over the course of my training in somatics since the start of 2023? We have to get really good at listening to what lights us up inside, rather than feeling duty-bound to continue with something for fear of disappointing others. And ideally, work in something we really love and believe in (a privileged choice not everyone can make; but if you can, people will feel your passion and benefit from that).

All of this is just my experience. I urge anyone who can access any kind of therapy, to do what you need to do to heal. Explore what works for you; a holistic approach to health is great. I’m aware that some support is more freely available than others on the NHS, so choice is a luxury. I just know the world needs more embodied people; the more I focus on that, the more I can do my best work.

In all my training over the past few years, I’ve experienced such vast personal growth, much of it in a concentrated amount of time as I intensified my embodied learning these last 18 months. I emerged so sure of what I wanted, and what I want for others. Who knows how The Loud Quiet and I will continue to evolve. Life’s a big, beautiful journey, isn’t it?

Becky x

See how to work with me on my somatic therapy page, or drop me an email if you like: hello@theloudquiet.co.uk.