I’m Mad at My Field—but We Have to Band Together Now More Than Ever

My weekend rant—apologies if I offended anyone, but I'm not really sorry.

The State of the Field

I’m so mad at my field. Furious, honestly. Business and therapy feel like oil and water—completely separate worlds that somehow get forced to mix. Everywhere I turn, I hear horror stories: abusive practicum sites, practice owners who treat their clinicians like mindless productivity machines, pushing us to pack session hours so they can keep spending on digital assistants, web designers, therapy stickers, logo w

ater bottles, and quarter zips no one actually wears… except the owners, when they insist you volunteer your weekend at some art fair. You smile, you nod, you pretend. Then you go home and peel off that scratchy company swag, finally free from the sham of it all.

And honestly? Pretending to be happy, content—that’s the Midwest niceness we all want to heal from. So why, as practice owners, are we continuing this cycle? I’m mad that so many who run practices never took a business ethics class or read a book on running an ethical practice. Somehow, having a well-off partner, family money, or the guts to take a huge loan gives you a “President” title, and suddenly people look at you like you’re an expert. Meanwhile, you just showed up with a pile of green paper, rented IKEA furniture, spent thousands on a web designer, and boom—you’re ready to tell others what to do and, scarier still, to supervise.

A Major Legislative Win

But as angry as I am, I have to put my frustrations aside because right now in Illinois, we need to come together.

For years, many clinicians and champions like Representative Lindsey LaPointe fought tirelessly for fair insurance reimbursement. We won—House Bill 1085 (HB1085) passed and is a real game-changer. It means better pay and network inclusion for private therapy clinicians like LCPCs and LCSWs. For those of us in private practice, it opens the door for joining insurance panels and getting paid what our work is truly worth, not these measly rates that make us question if it’s even worth it.

HB1085 demands insurance companies treat mental health providers fairly, making it easier for practitioners to keep their doors open and expand access to affordable care. It’s mental health parity in action—therapy that’s more sustainable, more accessible.

The New Challenges and Crafty Tactics

But here’s the kicker: insurance companies aren’t sitting still. They’re crafty, pushing employers toward self-funded plans that dodge state rules. They’re shrinking networks, creating EPOs and HMOs that exclude independent practices, making it nearly impossible for private therapists to join. Paperwork piles up, claims get unfairly denied, and barriers multiply. Some plans even outright exclude us from the marketplace.

This slick behavior reminds me of why I’m so mad at my field. So many “owners” cut corners because they don’t truly get what it takes to run an ethical, people-first practice. There are giant practices out there, started by folks who come from boardrooms, not therapy rooms. They’ve never held a client’s hand through trauma, but they sure know how to spend money on social media and buy influence. Just because someone has thousands of followers doesn’t mean they actually know what they’re doing.

I’ve heard of crucial healing programs sacrificed because of money. Integration therapy with ketamine or plant medicine is crucial—yet clinics cut those sessions out to save dollars, lumping everyone together in group therapy instead, hoping to get by with minimal staffing. I’m pissed—livid—that we lose sight of why we got into this field to begin with: to help people.

I struggle with tough choices, too. I hear from other therapists who want me to lower my sliding scale, but I simply can’t afford to. We can’t afford to work for free anymore—especially after dropping so much money on grad school and another $10-20K on certificates, only to be told we must volunteer to “move up the ladder.” This expectation of unpaid work is tied to what some call spiritual privilege—a privilege many of us share to start businesses, design our offices, brand ourselves as experts, and expect employees to buy into that vision. Most of that vision? It’s rooted in white privilege. Practice owners will wave flags and promote diversity—but it doesn’t erase the subtle oppression happening inside their walls, the normalized trauma so many of us carry silently.

How Rising Regulations are Making Counseling Education Less Affordable

Before I close, there’s one more piece of this mess that you’ve got to understand—it’s not just about the therapists already out here grinding. The system is making it damn near impossible for the next wave of helpers to even get started.

And speaking of affording things—let’s talk about the Big (cough, bullshit) Bill that recently passed. On paper, sure, it might look like a win to some (not me). But in reality? It’s making it damn near impossible for students chasing a master’s or doctorate in counseling to actually afford the education they need.

Truth is, the Big Beautiful Bill, no matter how shiny it looks on paper, is making it harder for people in *any* helping field to get their advanced degrees. Not just counselors, but social workers, nurses, therapists, and others fighting to make a real difference. These programs have to pour money into meeting new regulations—hiring more staff, upgrading facilities, expanding resources—and guess who ends up paying for it? Students. Tuition spikes, surprise fees hit like a brick wall, and what used to be a reachable dream now feels like a luxury only a few can manage.

It’s not just counseling programs feeling the squeeze. Nursing programs are slammed too, with limited funds and rising demands making it tougher than ever for future nurses to get the education they need. It’s a cruel irony—fields built on care and healing now have the education pathway narrower and steeper every damn day.

We’re already drowning in grad school debt. Now the barriers just keep rising. It’s like the system is biting the hands that want to heal. If we keep pricing out new therapists and helpers, who’s left to do the work? It’s a vicious cycle—harder to get in, tougher to stay, and clients left scraping for scraps.

We say we’re about care and healing… but the whole damn system keeps tightening the noose. It’s infuriating. And it’s exactly why we have to band together now more than ever.

A Call to Action

So here’s my call: let’s ban together. Let’s stop pretending everything is fine when it’s not. The pressure to survive financially, the squeeze from insurance companies, and the rising cost to even get educated in this field—these are all connected. If we don’t stand up now, therapists will be forced out or pushed into underpaid, under-supported roles, and our clients will suffer.

It’s about to get even harder to be a counselor—an independent therapist—in Illinois and beyond. Clients are still processing what COVID did to their lives. We’re navigating rising anxiety and depression. Some clients laugh, then cry, then laugh again. It’s a lot.

If you’re a practice owner offering insurance or any business owner, don’t settle for the next “money-saving” insurance deal without scrutinizing the fine print—it’s probably designed to squeeze clinicians dry. And if you’re a student or new therapist feeling priced out before you even get started, know you’re not alone. These barriers aren’t just about business; they’re about who gets to help, who gets left behind, and what kind of care people actually deserve.

We need to demand better—not just for ourselves but for our clients and the future of mental health care. Let’s stop letting greed and privilege drive the narrative. Let’s push for real change that honors why we got into this field: to help people heal.

Our clients deserve so much more. And honestly, so do we.