From the Watchtower to the Therapy Room: How Lifeguarding Shaped Me as a Narrative Therapist
As summer is quickly approaching I thought it would be nice to reflect on my summer job and how I incorporate it into my life as a therapist. Before I became an Associate Marriage and Family Therapist, I spent over eight years working as an ocean lifeguard with the Los Angeles County Fire Department and Long Beach Fire Department. At first glance, therapy and lifeguarding may seem worlds apart—one rooted in clinical conversations, the other in split-second rescues. But from a narrative therapy lens, I see an undeniable thread that connects both roles: presence, trust, attunement, and the ability to respond to crisis with clarity and care.
In both professions, stories matter. Here's how my experience as a lifeguard shaped the therapist I am today.
1. Reading the Waters—And the Unspoken
As a lifeguard, you learn to read subtle shifts in the ocean: a change in current, a quiet panic, a ripple that doesn’t fit. Similarly, in therapy, much of the work happens in the unsaid. I’ve learned to attune to body language, emotional undercurrents, and silences that speak volumes.
Being on the beach taught me how to pay attention—to people, to patterns, and to the energy of a moment. That skill directly translates into therapeutic presence: I notice, I stay close, and I respond with intention.
2. Being Calm in Crisis
People don’t call for help when everything is fine. Whether someone is waving their arms from the water or sitting across from me in emotional pain, what they need most is safety.
Lifeguarding taught me how to stay grounded in emergencies, how to act decisively while staying calm, and how to make people feel protected in their most vulnerable moments. As a therapist, I carry that same steadiness. My clients often tell me, “You’re really calm. It helps me feel like I can be honest here.” That’s no accident—it’s a muscle I trained long before I stepped into the therapy room.
3. Showing Up for the Whole Person
In narrative therapy, we honor the full richness of a person’s story—not just their struggles, but their values, skills, and preferred identities. On the beach, people didn’t just come to us in crisis; they came for connection, community, and sometimes just reassurance.
Lifeguarding reminded me that people are never just “problems to solve.” Whether someone was lost, scared, or defiant, I learned to look beyond behavior and see the person—the kid who wandered too far, the parent doing their best, the teenager testing boundaries. Now, as a therapist, I carry that same commitment to seeing people in context, not in isolation.
4. Teamwork and Trust
Both lifeguarding and therapy rely on strong relationships—whether it's your tower partner on a crowded beach or a clinical supervisor helping you deepen your practice. In both settings, trust is earned through consistency, humility, and clear communication.
I bring those values into my therapy work. I know how important it is to collaborate, to admit what I don’t know, and to show up for others with reliability and respect. My time in public safety also taught me the importance of clear boundaries, emotional regulation, and staying attuned to my own nervous system—skills that help me be present and regulated with clients.
5. Carrying Stories with Honor
On the job, I witnessed powerful moments: life saved, grief witnessed, families reunited. Those stories live with me, not as trauma, but as reminders of the strength and complexity of the human experience. I learned to carry stories with care, not to “fix” people, but to honor their resilience and meet them where they are.
That’s what I do now, every day, as a therapist. I listen closely. I ask questions that help people reconnect with their strengths. I don’t position myself as the expert—I see therapy as a collaborative space where clients are the authors of their lives.
In Closing
The ocean doesn’t always give you warning. Neither does life. But in both, there is deep value in having someone nearby who knows how to stay calm, hold space, and respond when it matters most.
I didn’t become a therapist despite being a lifeguard—I became a therapist because of it. That chapter shaped how I listen, how I care, and how I walk alongside others in their most human moments.
Warmly,
Abbey Vince, AMFT
