What Therapy Missed—and Coaching Helped Me Create
- Aug 15, 2025
- 3 min read
By Sara-Ann Rosen
My childhood taught me love was a performance. Saying something for effect was as good as doing it. I was an observer of a drama that kept me in suspense over when and how others would show up. Caught up in their own schisms, the adults acknowledged my experiences only to the extent that they validated theirs.
My journey to becoming a therapist—and later a coach—started by decoding my parents’ nerve-racking arguments: a relentless tug-of-war over who owed compassion and who
would extend understanding first. Like many future therapists, I became an emotional translator early on, attuning to micro-expressions and piecing together unsaid truths. I learned to manage others’ emotions to feel an inkling of safety.
My parents connected through strong values—equity, integrity, respect. At least in theory. In practice, their love often betrayed those ideals. Watching them taught me that having the right values isn’t enough; it’s how we treat each other in the small, hard moments that defines love.
Those values pulled me toward law school, where I defined my purpose as learning, service, and advocacy—using logic and language to argue for merciful justice in a world that often resists it. But I quickly discovered that being a good lawyer also meant being part social worker. Clients didn’t just need airtight arguments; they needed someone who could translate confusion and fear into clarity and help them find a way forward when the system felt stacked against them.
Even as I tried to live out those values in my work, I saw the limits of what law could offer. Justice on paper isn’t the same as security and respect in a relationship. That realization came into sharp relief as my own marriage slowly unraveled. Burned out, I left law and went back to school to train as a therapist, determined to learn what it takes for people to love each other well—not aspirationally, but through their words, deeds, and nervous systems.
But therapy wasn’t the panacea I’d hoped for. Couples therapy, in particular, can feel like a quagmire. While most therapists say they work with couples, finding one who’s both qualified and effective is another story. Many lack specialized training and don’t use evidence-based methods supported by robust outcome studies.
For couples who can access therapy, systemic barriers remain. Insurance often requires therapists to diagnose one partner with a mental health disorder—shifting the focus away from the relationship to treat one person’s “problem,” when the real issue is the health of the partnership. Lower reimbursement rates limit sessions, and too few therapists reflect the cultural identities and experiences of those they serve. Structural inequities—from geography to language to mistrust born of systemic harms—continue to erode care.
From therapy’s “what’s wrong with you” model to systemic inequities, too much didn’t sit well with me. Coaching offered something different. It asked: What’s possible for you?
Coaching’s accessibility, adaptability, time-and-cost-certainty, and focus on strengths and goals remove barriers that keep people from getting help—especially for those who can’t afford months or years of weekly sessions.
Coaching moves people forward—step by step—through meaningful behavioral shifts and identity-level change. It honors the past while focusing on strengths and skill-building to break old patterns, communicate with clarity, and navigate relationships with emotional fluency, healthy boundaries, and intention.
As a dating and relationship coach, I give people something they don’t always realize they need: the chance to break cycles before they solidify, and to co-create the aligned love they’ve been longing for.
Because empowerment doesn’t happen in isolation—it’s born in connection. And that’s where the most transformative work begins.
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