Sessions Interrupted: When Your Therapist Has IC

Interstitial cystitis… I’m still figuring out how to pronounce it correctly every time myself.

I wanted to share my experience in hopes of normalizing something we don’t talk about enough: no matter the career, we all carry our own “baggage,” challenges, and health realities—and we have to learn how to accommodate and balance our needs alongside our work.

I was recently diagnosed with IC (also known as painful bladder syndrome). And yes—it’s pretty much what it sounds like.

Unfortunately, this is another chronic condition that often overlaps with endometriosis. I didn’t have significant symptoms prior to my most recent surgery, but everything changed afterward.

When I woke up from my 5.5-hour excision surgery and hysterectomy, I was told I would be going home with a catheter for two weeks due to complications. That moment brought immediate panic—tears, fear, and the overwhelming thought of having to manage that on my own.

I was determined to urinate before discharge—and two hours later, I did.

But it took nearly a week for my bladder nerves to “wake up.” At first, I had no sensation at all. Now, I have too much. Constant awareness. Constant urgency.

Looking back, it makes sense. My bladder had been adhered to my uterus, likely contributing to pressure and dysfunction in an already strained pelvic floor.

And now… here I am.

Using the bathroom every hour—sometimes every 45 minutes. Managing urgency, pressure, chronic UTI symptoms, occasional blood in my urine, sometimes an odor of blood, and the emotional toll that comes with it. In the last year and a half alone, I’ve had three CT scans and one surgery.

Thankfully, I work from home, which allows me to step away between sessions when needed. But still—this impacts my day-to-day life in very real ways.

So what does this look like as a therapist?

Honestly? Trying not to pee my pants sometimes!

• Sometimes I’m running a few minutes late because I needed to use the bathroom

• Sometimes I’m sitting in sessions more tense than I’d like because I’m hyper-aware of my body

• Sometimes I have to push through discomfort while still being fully present for someone else

At the same time, living with a chronic condition has deepened my ability to stay present. It has strengthened my empathy, my patience, and my understanding of what it really means to cope, adapt, and honor your limits.

But I won’t pretend it’s easy.

There are moments when I have to take my own advice—slow down, rest, and listen to my body. There are times I’ve had to cancel or reschedule sessions due to flare-ups or fatigue. And I don’t take that lightly.

If I’m not able to be fully present, that’s not ethical care. And I believe my clients deserve my full attention.

So I’m learning—just like I ask my clients to learn.

What accommodations look like for me right now:

• Being okay with running a few minutes behind when needed

• Taking intentional breaks between sessions

• Resting without guilt

• “Calling out” when my body truly needs it

• Prioritize my acupuncture appointments

Because the truth is—sometimes our bodies don’t cooperate. And that’s not a failure. That’s being human.

I’m still in the early stages of understanding and treating my IC. There’s a lot I don’t know yet. A lot I’m still navigating.

But what I do know is this:
we don’t have to choose between being professionals and being human.

We can be both.

We can show up, do meaningful work, and still honor our limitations. We can model resilience—not as perfection, but as flexibility, self-awareness, and compassion.

And maybe… just maybe… by being open about these experiences, we create a little more space for others to do the same.

Because behind every role, every title, every “helper”—
there is a person learning how to live in their body, too

-SC