Voice Online

Own Your Voice

Before you can write about who you are, you have to know who you are.

7 min read · Written by Liz Wooten, LPC

I want you to think about the last time you sat down to update your bio somewhere — Psychology Today, TherapyDen, your website, wherever. Remember the feeling? You stare at the cursor. You type a sentence. You delete it. You look at another therapist’s profile for inspiration, and now you feel worse because theirs sounds so natural and yours reads like a grad school application.

You’re not bad at writing. You’re trying to write as someone you’re not.

Here’s what I mean. Most of us got into this field because we wanted to help people. Somewhere along the way, we learned that “helping people” needed to come in a specific package — the right credentials, the right modalities listed in the right order, the right clinical tone. And we internalized that package so deeply that when someone asks us to describe ourselves online, we reach for it automatically. CBT. DBT. IFS. EMDR. A “warm and empathetic approach.” A “collaborative therapeutic relationship.”

None of that is wrong. But it’s not YOU. And your clients can tell.

Go Rewrite Your Blurbs. Right Now.

I mean it. When was the last time you actually updated the words on your Psychology Today profile? Your Google Business listing? Your website about page? If the answer is “when I first set it up,” we need to talk.

Your work has evolved since then. You’re not the same therapist you were when you wrote that bio. Maybe you’ve shifted your focus. Maybe you’ve found a population you love working with that you didn’t know existed when you graduated. Maybe you’ve developed an approach that doesn’t fit neatly into any acronym.

Your descriptions should reflect the therapist you are right now, not the one you thought you were supposed to be three years ago.

Go to every place where you’ve written your little blurb about yourself and read it with fresh eyes. Ask yourself: “Does this sound like me? Or does this sound like every other therapist on this page?”

If it sounds like everybody else, keep reading. We’re going to fix that.

Your Weird Hobby Is a Therapeutic Tool

You know that thing you love? The one that has nothing to do with therapy? Your music collection. The woodworking. The obsession with true crime podcasts. The fact that you quote The Office in session and your clients actually respond to it.

That’s not a footnote for the bottom of your bio. That IS part of how you do therapy.

I’ve watched therapists light up when they talk about their special interest and then immediately dim when they say “but that’s not really relevant to my clinical work.” Yes it is. If you use music as a grounding tool, talk about that. If your background in art informs how you think about creative expression as processing, say that.

If your love of hiking gives you metaphors you use with clients every single week, that belongs in your bio more than your certification dates do.

Your interests aren’t separate from your therapeutic style. They ARE your therapeutic style. They’re what make you different from the therapist down the hall who also does CBT.

What Does It Feel Like to Sit Across From You?

Here’s the question nobody asks you to answer in your bio, and it’s the only one that matters: What is the actual experience of being in therapy with you?

Not your modalities. Not your training. Not the clinical framework you’d describe in a case consultation. What does it FEEL LIKE?

Is your office quiet, with long pauses where you let people sit with their feelings? Or is it more like a conversation — back and forth, with some humor, maybe a little irreverence? Do you challenge people directly, or do you lead them gently until they challenge themselves? Do clients cry in your office? Do they laugh?

That experience — the one that happens between two humans in a room — is what your clients are trying to find when they read your bio. They're not looking for credentials. They're looking for a person they can imagine sitting across from.

— Liz Wooten

Describe that. Not the acronyms. The experience.

Even If You Do Therapy Differently

Here’s where I need to say something that might sound a little weird, and I want you to hear it.

If you feel like you do therapy differently than everyone else — if you sometimes wonder whether your approach is “right” because it doesn’t look like what your colleagues describe — I need you to take that little imposter syndrome feeling, hold it gently for a second, and boop it right on the nose.

Because the fact that you do therapy your own way? That’s probably why your clients picked you.

62%

of health care providers experience imposter syndrome

BMC Psychology / PubMed (2025 meta-analysis of 30 studies, n=11,483)

That’s not a small, broken minority — that’s most of the people reading this right now. And in the broader research on impostor feelings, they tend to run highest among people with advanced degrees — the more education you have, the more likely you are to feel it.

So when you sit down to write your bio and that voice pipes up — “Who am I to say I’m different? What if different means wrong?” — just know that voice is a liar. Your different is your value. Your clients didn’t accidentally find you. They read something in your profile, or heard something in your voice on the phone, or saw something in your face during a consultation call that said: “This one. This is my person.”

Own that.

Every Client Is Different. Your Bio Should Be Too.

You already know this in the therapy room: every single person who sits across from you is dealing with their own specific combination of history, biology, personality, and Tuesday. You’d never use the exact same approach with every client. That would be absurd.

So why does your bio describe your therapy like it’s one-size-fits-all?

I’ll say the quiet part out loud: describing cookie-cutter therapy is lying. Not intentionally. Not maliciously. But if every client gets a unique experience — and they do — then a bio that makes your therapy sound like everyone else’s therapy is inaccurate. It’s describing something that doesn’t exist.

Instead of “I use a combination of CBT, mindfulness, and solution-focused therapy,” try describing what actually HAPPENS:

“We usually start our sessions checking in about the week — not the highlights, the real stuff. I’ll ask follow-up questions that might surprise you. Sometimes I’ll point out a pattern you haven’t noticed. Sometimes I’ll just sit with you in it.”

That’s real. That’s specific. That’s YOU. And the right client reads that and thinks: “Yes. That’s what I need.”

The Right Clients Will Find You (When You Let Them)

When you write authentically about who you are and how you work, something interesting happens: the clients who are a good fit for you start showing up. Not because you’re running better ads or gaming an algorithm, but because they can see themselves in what you’re describing.

And the ones who aren’t a good fit? They self-select out. Which is actually a gift — to both of you. Fewer awkward consultation calls with people who expected someone different. Fewer first sessions that end with “I don’t think this is the right fit.” More of the work you actually want to do, with the people who actually want to do it with you.

That's not a marketing tactic. That's just what happens when you tell the truth about who you are.

— Liz Wooten

You Are Dealing With Humans

Let me leave you with this. Your clients are not diagnostic codes. They’re not treatment plans. They are humans who walked into your office because something in their life got too heavy to carry alone.

And you? You’re not a collection of credentials and certifications. You’re a human who chose to be the person in the other chair.

Write like it.

Go back to your Psychology Today profile, your TherapyDen listing, your website, your Google Business Profile — wherever you show up online — and rewrite it. Not tomorrow. Today. While you’re feeling this.

Describe what therapy with you is actually like. Mention the weird hobby that turns out to be a therapeutic tool. Let someone see the real you, not the “Professional Therapist” costume.

Your voice is the thing that makes you, you. It’s time to own it.

Frequently Asked Questions

That IS unique. “Regular therapy” doesn’t exist — every therapist brings their own personality, background, and instincts to the room. The fact that you can’t name your difference probably means you haven’t been asked the right question. Try this: what would your favorite client say about working with you if they were recommending you to a friend? That answer is your voice.

Your licensing board cares about ethics and clinical competence, not whether your Psychology Today profile uses the word “vibe.” Writing like a human is not unprofessional. Writing like a robot is just less effective. The therapists who are filling their caseloads are the ones whose bios sound like a person wrote them.

You don’t describe one style. You describe the EXPERIENCE. What does a first session feel like? What’s the energy in the room? Do you lean in or sit back? That’s consistent across clients even when your techniques aren’t. Describe the container, not the contents.

It will turn away the WRONG clients — and that’s the point. Every client who self-selects out because your bio doesn’t match what they’re looking for is a consultation call that would have ended with “I don’t think this is the right fit.” Specificity saves everyone time and leads to better therapeutic outcomes.

You’re probably starting with what you DO instead of who you ARE. That’s backwards. The bio that never feels right is usually one where you’re trying to perform a version of yourself that doesn’t exist. Start with the question: “What does therapy with me feel like?” If your answer sounds like a real conversation, you’re on the right track.

The clients who want a buttoned-up, clinical therapist will find one. You don’t need ALL the clients — you need YOUR clients. And “too much” for one person is “finally, someone who gets me” for another. The personality you’re worried about showing is exactly what your best-fit clients are searching for.

Your online voice is closely connected to your voice strategy — this page gives you the identity work, and the hub helps you translate it across platforms. Ready to take your voice to social media? Start here →