Therapeutic Language
Written by: Liz Cerven
Dear Reader,
I want to share something with you that’s been on my mind—a conversation about language, specifically the language of therapy, and how it’s woven into our everyday lives. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? Through the rise of social media, words once spoken in the quiet confines of therapy sessions have made their way into everyday conversations. Terms like narcissism, boundaries, codependence, and embodiment are now commonplace, even among those who may not be engaging in therapy. And why shouldn’t they be?
These words are not “off-limits.” They don’t belong solely to therapists or those with master’s degrees and licenses. Yet, when I speak with other therapists, I notice an interesting shift. Many of us go from wanting to empower and liberate those we work with to expressing frustration that people might use these terms “out of context” or “without the guidance of a trained professional.” But that raises an important question: How do we think learning a language works?
Language is learned through experience, exposure, and practice. It’s messy and imperfect, but that’s how it grows. Therapeutic language, like any other, doesn’t have to remain confined to therapeutic spaces. In fact, to do so would contradict the very purpose of therapy—to foster understanding, growth, and healing. When people use these words, whether correctly or not, they’re trying to make sense of their world, much like children learning to speak. Isn’t that the point? To create meaning and understanding through language?
Therapy itself is an evolving practice. While many credit Freud with its origins, healing has existed for centuries within Indigenous, Native, and Tribal communities. According to research by O’Keefe, Cwik, Haroz, and Barlow (2019), many tools and techniques that modern therapy uses today were practiced by these communities long before colonizers arrived. Tragically, these sacred practices were met with violence, stripped from their creators, and repackaged by colonizers as new, marketable forms of healing.
So, why would we want to gatekeep therapeutic language, claiming it as sacred to therapy, when we haven’t even begun to reckon with the harm caused by erasing the cultures that birthed these practices? For decades, healing methods have been whitewashed, reduced, and reframed to fit Eurocentric, individualistic wellness models. Colonization is not just historical trauma; it continues today, shaping the way we approach healing and therapy.
As a white person in this field, I have to acknowledge that the ideas and practices I work with originated elsewhere. I’m a learner, constantly growing in my understanding. Knowledge is powerful—it’s liberating. And I hope to continue learning, not only for my own growth but to honor the roots of these practices. If this resonates with you, I highly recommend Dr. Jennifer Mullan’s book, Decolonizing Therapy. In her words, this work is for “The Root Workers. Those of you who tend to the deeply buried parts of human suffering, society, and the global consciousness…that truly embody space holding.”
Returning to language and therapeutic jargon—who am I to tell someone not to use words that help them make sense of their lives? If the language of therapy resonates with someone, if it lights up a new understanding or opens a door to growth, I say, use it. Use it with curiosity and allow yourself to explore it further, through the means available to you—even if that’s TikTok or a podcast. Language, especially the language of healing, isn’t meant to stay locked away in clinical spaces. It’s meant to spark change, to open conversations, and to build bridges of understanding.
So, dear reader, I encourage you: Be curious. Use the words that resonate with you. Let them help you make sense of your world. And as you grow in your understanding, remember that language is not just a tool but a pathway—a way to connect, empower, and transform.
Yours in pursuit of understanding