Why I Don’t Identify as a Specialist

There’s something about the word specialist that has never fully resonated with me.

As a therapist, I understand why people use it. It can help clients know what areas a therapist focuses on, and for many clinicians it feels aligned and meaningful. But personally, I choose not to identify myself that way.

Not because I don’t care deeply about the work I do. Not because I don’t continue learning, studying, and growing. But because I never want to reach a place where I believe I’ve “arrived.”

The moment I define myself as an expert or specialist, something in me feels like it stops moving.

I became a therapist because I’m endlessly curious about people. About relationships. About grief, identity, trauma, healing, fear, love, anger, change, and the thousands of ways humans learn to survive and evolve. I don’t want to narrow that curiosity into one fixed identity. I want to continue growing throughout my career. I want to evolve alongside the people I work with.

Language matters.

So instead of saying I’m a specialist, I often say I focus on certain areas. That feels more honest to me. More human. More open.

Because the truth is, I don’t believe I’m the expert of anyone else’s life.

I believe my clients are.

Whether you are 5, 15, 28, 40, or 80 years old, you are the person who has lived your experiences. You are the one who carries your memories, your fears, your longings, your relationships, your wounds, your hopes. My role is not to sit above you and tell you who you are or what you should do with your life.

My role is to help you hear yourself more clearly.

I believe change is far more powerful when it comes from within. When people begin trusting themselves. When they make choices because they feel aligned in their own body and spirit—not because someone with credentials told them what the “right” answer is.

Of course, some people want direct advice, structure, or clear guidance from a therapist, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Different approaches work for different people. But for me personally, the most meaningful moments in therapy happen when a client realizes:
“I already knew.”
“I already had that inside of me.”

That kind of change lasts.

Therapy, to me, is not about creating dependence on an expert. It’s about helping people reconnect with themselves.

And maybe that’s another reason I resist the idea of expertise. Humans are constantly changing. What healing looks like at 25 may look completely different at 45. We evolve. Relationships evolve. Culture evolves. Even our understanding of mental health continues to evolve.

I want to leave room for that.

I never want to become so attached to an identity, modality, or specialty that I stop listening, questioning, or learning.

I want to remain open.

Open to growth.
Open to people.
Open to being wrong sometimes.
Open to learning from my clients just as much as I hope they learn from themselves.

So no, I will probably never call myself a specialist or an expert.

And honestly, I don’t want to be one.

I want to stay curious. I want to keep evolving. I want to continue meeting people as humans first—not diagnoses, categories, or niches.

Because at the end of the day, therapy is not about having all the answers.

It’s about creating enough safety for people to discover their own.

Warmly,

Abbey Vince, AMFT