You're Over 65. Should You Bother Trying a Much Younger Therapist?

I'm guessing your immediate response to the title of this article is "probably not." As a therapist and sixty-something woman, I get it. I really do. I've been there.

How could this younger therapist possibly understand life before online relationships? Could they imagine waiting for a phone call rather than the immediate gratification of a text?

And really… they wouldn’t have any idea what it felt like to say good-bye to a child when they first leave home for college. Or appreciate the joy and importance of grand-children. Or endure the stress of caring for aging parents.

What would they know about having a life-time relationship with a spouse? The pain of divorce? The death of your soulmate? ? The feelings you have about your own aging process?

And your greatest fear: with their whole idealistic life still ahead of them, would they have the maturity to understand some of the difficult choices you've made? And the regrets you still carry?

No, you think. It would never work.

How my daughter, a fellow-therapist, changed my mind

Back when my daughter was a therapist in training, I needed therapy and had most of these doubts myself.

I was headed toward the last decades of my life with no real direction. And I suspected there was more to deal with deep inside. It frightened me that I only had a small sense of who I was beneath the mantle of my profession. I wanted someone to help me, who understood me and my life.

Every therapist I called sounded so young.

One day I unexpectedly burst out crying to my daughter. Once I calmed down, I shared my doubts and frustration, to her of all people. She was twenty-two years old and studying to become a therapist.

She paused, took a deep breath, and stared at me for a very long moment. What must she have been thinking?

Ok, she said. Now tell me what you want. My frustration increased. I told her that I'd just given her what I wanted. Was she even listening?

She grabbed my hand and held it, her concern for me apparent in her face and eyes. I realized that all I'd told her was what I didn't want. If she was going to help me, she needed me to figure out what I did want. Well that made sense. I told her I wanted someone who would understand me. Someone I could open up to.

Go on, she said. She was gentle but encouraging.

I told her I wanted…a mature adult! I wanted someone who would understand the context of my life. I did not want to have to explain it all to someone who hadn't been there. Like my experience of the turmoil during the Viet Nam war.

I get it, she said, never letting go of my hand. Tell me more.

I took a deep breath as an old familiar feeling of anxiety filled my chest. My husband had been over there and it was a terrible time. She knew her father had served when I was pregnant with her, but not much else.

Go slowly Mom. I think you're already anxious.

Yes! The hatred from the people, mostly my age, was really scary. My husband was there fighting out of love for his country, while the protesters and newscasters were making the soldiers sound like monsters.

Is there more, she whispered.

Yes, our own friends, now anti-war, pulled away because they could no longer relate to us. There was your dad, a hero in my eyes. And there they were, running away to Canada.

I had no one.

It must have been so painfully hard for you, she said.

Oh God it really was! I cried again as I remembered. The constant worry and loneliness. Waking up each morning hoping for a letter from him. The joy yet deep sadness when they finally arrived. They were cheerful letters, meant to protect me from the reality of the daily danger he endured. I knew that, and I loved him for it. I told her how I always wondered if her father would walk off a plane or be carried off in a box when he returned.

You must have felt so helpless, she said, as her fingers squeezed me tighter.

Yes, exactly! There was nothing I could do to make it better.

Well that makes sense. Of course you felt that way. Who wouldn't?

She understood! I cried again while she sat close. A silent witness to my pain.

Once I pulled myself together, I looked at her in amazement, my pain released. I never knew those emotions had been trapped inside for so long. But my thirty year daughter, not even born at the time of that war, was able to help me through old, buried trauma. How could she have helped me without having lived through my experience?

She did because she had sincere empathy, sat with me in my pain, and was genuinely interested in what I had to say. She validated my feelings and she listened. I could feel that she cared. All innate qualities a therapist must have.

Putting assumptions about age to the test

I remember when we later, finally started our mother-daughter private practice. She was only thirty-three, fresh out of school, and of course nervous to begin seeing clients. As inquiries came in, with no particular therapist requested, I steered the younger ones to her. It seemed only natural that those would be the clients who would feel comfortable with her. After all, they could relate to each other. We didn't see how a match with someone two or three times her age could work. We both agreed that this was a good course to take.

But after a few months the practice exploded with people of all ages. I could no longer be so selective about which inquiries went where. So she jumped into the deep end of the pool and kept her head above water. She swam like a champion.

Older clients would walk out of her office and thank me for the referral. One woman, sixty-ish, came over to me and squeezed my hand. Thank you, she said. Thank you! I apparently looked at her with a question mark on my face. Noting it she smiled and said, your daughter is wonderful! She was so warm and accepting. That's some girl you've raised there! Everything I said made sense to her.

I felt warm pride and a deeply hidden sense of relief.

Word got around. The woman told her friends about her wonderful new therapist and more and more mature people asked for her. Within a year she had a following, a wait list, and a warm cup of tea on hand for her clients.

I realized that other older women were experiencing her the way I had when I had my mini-meltdown. Warm, empathetic, and understanding. Yes, she had all the training and knowledge she needed to become a good therapist. But it was her personal qualities that older clients responded to. She was a great therapist.

As it turns out, research and real-world stories show that the gap between an older client and a younger therapist isn't a barrier at all. In fact, decades of clinical research show that the most important ingredient in therapy isn't a clinician's age or the number of years they've been practicing—it is the genuine human connection you build together.

Mutual respect is essential

In a traditional setting, it's easy to feel like the therapist is the "all-knowing expert" and you are "just" the patient. But younger therapists tend to naturally foster a deeply collaborative environment. Your therapist brings fresh, up-to-date knowledge, while you bring the ultimate expertise on your own life. They aren't there to tell you how to live; they are there to walk beside you, honoring all the wisdom that only a person your age can acquire.

This mutual respect lowers defenses and removes the fear of being judged or pathologized. Together, you form an egalitarian alliance where your life seniority is deeply honored as you work toward your healing goals.

Think about when you are looking for a new medical doctor. You may be inclined to choose someone older. A comfy person with many years of experience. The television character Dr. Welby comes to mind. (Well…we who lived through the early 70s remember him at any rate.) And that may be just fine for you. I had to make such a decision recently, and my immediate instinct was to gravitate to the local, older doctor. The obvious choice, I thought, considering all his years of experience.

But then I thought about a brilliant young man I knew who was fresh out of his medical residency. I met him at a party and he was raving about advancements that were fresh and new in his field. I've never met such an enthusiastic physician; sharp, knowledgeable, optimistic and un-jaded. I decided I wanted some of that to help me through my medical crisis.

When I went to see him, he walked me through everything he was doing and why. He patiently answered any and all of my questions, listened to my concerns, and managed to both validate them and give me hope. He listened to me and he empathized. He somehow made me feel like I was his only patient and that I mattered, much as my daughter had helped me so long ago. All that at age 33.

Sometimes, clinicians who have been in the field for forty years can unintentionally carry a sense of fatigue or view long-standing, chronic issues as fixed and unchangeable. Younger therapists enter the room un-jaded, armed with a strong sense of clinical optimism and high emotional energy.

When a capable, bright young professional sits with you and listens to your life story with deep respect and authentic curiosity, it is incredibly validating. They don't look at a 60- or 70-year-old client's coping mechanisms as fixed parts of who you are. They see them as treatable conditions, infusing the room with fresh hope and a belief that it is absolutely never too late to change and heal.

Assumptions are normal, but don’t let them get in the way

Ultimately, study after study shows that it's not the fancy degrees, the type of therapy, or age of the therapist that produces a good outcome. It's the connection between the client and therapist. Empathy and attunement. A safe presence and authenticity. It's the quality of that bond, not the amount of years each person has lived, that is the single most important factor in successful therapy.

It’s normal to have pre-conceived notions based on age. But as you search for a therapist, I encourage you to put them aside. Schedule a consultation with a licensed clinician whose profile stands out to you (and who takes Medicare), then pay attention to how it feels to talk with them. That will tell you most of what you need to know.