“Therapist to Therapist: When You Lose More Than a USB”

Dear Fellow Therapists,

I lost my USB. There. I said it. And if I'm being completely honest, I cried about it. Not because it's just a USB, but because of what was on it—work, documents, ideas, and projects I had spent hours creating. Things I thought I had safely stored and wasn't prepared to suddenly lose access to. Somewhere between searching, retracing my steps, and trying to figure out what could be recovered, I realized something: I wasn't just grieving the possibility of losing files. I was grieving the feeling of losing control. And as a therapist, that realization hit differently.

The Therapist Is Human Too

We spend our days helping others navigate uncertainty. We teach our clients that difficult emotions are uncomfortable but survivable. We help them challenge catastrophic thinking, separate what they know from what they fear, and identify what they can control. And then life happens. Suddenly, I found myself practicing some of the same things I encourage my clients to practice: What do I actually know? What can I control? What can I do next? And perhaps most importantly: Can I allow myself to be upset without convincing myself that everything is ruined?

Perspective Doesn't Mean We Can't Feel

I've actually been telling myself, “People lose computers too. Technology fails. Things happen.” And all of that is true. But putting something into perspective doesn't mean minimizing how we feel about it. I can know that others have experienced greater losses and still be disappointed about mine. I can know that a problem may be solvable and still feel overwhelmed. I can believe things may be recoverable and still cry. Perspective and emotion can exist in the same space. That's something we tell our clients. Perhaps we need to remember it for ourselves.

And Then There's the Lesson I Don't Particularly Like

I didn't have the backup system I should have had. I hadn't fully transitioned my important documents to cloud storage or created the kind of redundancy that would have made this situation less stressful. And let's be honest—maybe the USB was telling me something. Perhaps I had been holding onto an old way of doing things when technology had already moved on. Cloud storage, automatic backups, multiple ways to protect our work... and I was still trusting one little USB.

But maybe this isn't about being “behind the times.” Maybe it's about recognizing when a system that has worked for us needs to be updated. We ask our clients to recognize when an old coping strategy no longer serves them, develop new tools, and adapt. We can do that, too. Not because we failed, but because we are growing.

The USB Was Found. The Lesson Stayed.

The good news? I found the USB. And yes, I was relieved. Very relieved. But something had already shifted for me. Finding it didn't erase the fear, frustration, or tears. It simply gave me the opportunity to make a change without waiting for another crisis. I moved my important files to the cloud. Now I have another layer of protection. And perhaps that's the real takeaway. Sometimes we don't change our systems because we don't know better. Sometimes an experience shows us why we need to. I didn't need to lose the USB again. I had learned enough from this one.

What Are We Carrying Without a Backup?

The experience also made me think beyond technology. What else are we carrying without a backup? Our energy. Our emotional capacity. Our relationships. Our professional support. Our sense of identity. As therapists, we can become very good at pouring into others while assuming we'll always have enough left for ourselves. But what happens when we don't? Where is our backup? Who do we call? What practices help us return to ourselves? Sometimes our backup is a colleague, a supervisor, a community, a boundary, a routine, or simply a plan for what we will do when life becomes unpredictable. Resilience isn't only about how we recover after something goes wrong. Sometimes it's about creating systems that make recovery possible.

Therapist to Therapist

Sometimes life gives us an opportunity to practice the very lessons we teach. This was one of those moments for me. I'm learning that I can be upset without spiraling. I can acknowledge that I could have done something differently without turning responsibility into shame. And I can make a practical change moving forward. So, therapist to therapist: If you're exhausted, build support before you're burned out. If you're overwhelmed, identify your coping tools before the crisis. If your work matters to you, protect it. If an old strategy isn't working anymore, give yourself permission to try something new. And if something goes wrong? Give yourself permission to feel it. Cry if you need to. Be frustrated. Be disappointed. Take a breath.

Then ask yourself: What can I do next? Because resilience doesn't mean nothing will ever be lost. It means that when something is lost, we still have the capacity to find our way forward. I found the USB. I moved to the cloud. And I kept going. Sometimes resilience looks like recovering what we thought was lost. Sometimes it looks like changing the system that left us vulnerable in the first place. And sometimes, it looks like both. Therapist to therapist: we don't have to have everything figured out. We just have to remain willing to adapt, recover, and keep going.

 Wishing you all wellness and growth,

Jinia