Articles
Psychological Flexibility as The Therapist's Core Process
Rather than minimize the concerns we experience as therapists, Psychological Flexibility supports greater freedom even as we face new challenges.

This article is the second in a series from Dr. Elisabeth Morray, VP of Clinical at Alma, following an in-depth conversation with Dr. Steven Hayes, the Founder of ACT and architect of Psychological Flexibility.
Psychological Flexibility is a concept and process at the very heart of acceptance and commitment therapy that can be uniquely and remarkably helpful in times we're living in for all individuals, but especially for therapists themselves.
To put it simply, Psychological Flexibility refers to the ability to remain emotionally open, fully present and focused on what matters most, even in the middle of conditions that challenge us.
The position I occupy as the clinical leader for Alma’s network of providers has allowed me to develop a deep understanding of the realities faced by behavioral health clinicians. Regardless of degree type, specialization, or location, we experience unrelenting demands on our time, attention, and emotional bandwidth.
We’re also facing significant uncertainty about the future of our field — what limitations on coverage and compensation might emerge in the healthcare space? What systemic protections for the vulnerable populations I treat can be trusted? What role will AI play in behavioral healthcare? How can I sustain myself and grow my business the way that I want to amidst all these challenges? In extreme cases, some of us are expressing a desire to leave the field altogether.
If we want to sustain ourselves and show up well for our clients, we need a different way of thinking and working that actually supports us as clinicians, even when other systems are breaking down.
For me, applying the lens of Psychological Flexibility to my work has created that model, and the goal of this series is to share why it’s so effective in this current moment — and how to integrate it into your personal and professional life.
The Waters in Which We Swim
There’s so much more to burnout than the size of our caseload. It’s what happens when the conditions required for good clinical work are systematically eroded. When the time you need to care for your clients and ensure that you’re showing up fully is overtaken by administrative paperwork and the constantly changing rules of compliance.
More recently, new pressures have taken hold. With telehealth, we’re more isolated as providers than we’ve ever been before. There’s rising anxiety about payer scrutiny and clawbacks. And we’re carrying the psychological load of practicing in a limiting sociopolitical context — one that now directly shapes what shows up in the room and how care can be delivered.
Moments from My Own Practice:
I have a client who is considering gender-affirmative care. They are fearful and about legislation that may limit their ability to seek this care, about the sociopolitical climate that they are navigating, and how the information I put into my documentation might put them at risk in future contexts. They also worry that the use of AI by insurance companies to review the documentation associated with their claims might increase their risks.
At the same time, I am facing my own challenges in running my practice. Whereas five years ago I had a waitlist, I now struggle to keep my caseload full. Last week I received an audit request for the documentation associated with an entire episode of care that I completed last year — with a client who has a spouse who is an undocumented immigrant. It took me hours to pull together all the paperwork, and I spent most of the time panicking — I can’t afford to have payments clawed back.
I haven’t seen a pay increase in five years, but the rent on my office space and my own personal cost of living keeps going up. Instead of having lunch with my colleagues every day as I did when I worked in a community mental health center, I eat lunch alone, in front of my computer, while I frantically try to get caught up on my notes. To top it all off, I just read an article on LinkedIn that suggested that AI tools are being used to replace therapists.
As clinicians, our jobs are to provide a steady, safe space into which our clients can bring their most vulnerable experiences, and trust that these experiences will be expertly and compassionately held, explored, and navigated. We know how exhausting it can be to do this well, day after day, client after client under even the best conditions.
Meeting this standard when the environments in which we live and practice outside of therapy space do not meet our basic needs, and often actually deplete our emotional and attentional resources is the challenge that many of us are now expected to overcome.
The Therapist Comes Into the Room, Too
The struggles that a therapist is having outside of the therapy room may, at times, find their way into that space. Our minds may wander our financial concerns during a session, and we realize that we missed the last two minutes of what our client was sharing. We find it harder to summon empathy for the person across from us who has a different set of political beliefs, perhaps possesses access to resources we long for, or even actively participates in a system that disenfranchises people who share our own identity.
As is the case for our clients, when we are having trouble adapting, our behavior tends to become more rigid. We may grapple with attention, decision-making, emotional availability, and risk tolerance. We may become more cautious, avoidant, reactive, or rigid in session, or become less engaged. Rather than risking the vulnerability that comes with emotional depth, we may instead rely on overly structured, less attuned ways of engaging, disengaging emotionally to preserve energy. This kind of rigidity is costly, not just for us, but also for clients.
Moments from My Own Practice
By Friday afternoon, I am exhausted. I’ve recently increased my caseload to 30 clients a week, and I have one more to go after I finish this session with “Lisa”, who I have been seeing for several months.
We are about 10 minutes from the end of the session. I diagnosed Lisa with GAD at intake, and have been using a “gold standard” CBT protocol throughout our work together. In general, she has responded well, but recently she seems to be making less progress. I find myself worrying that I will not be able to demonstrate the impact of my care in my documentation, and so when she begins to veer off course from the protocol and share what sounds like it could be a traumatic memory from her childhood, I redirect her. I tell myself we don’t have time, that the session is about over and I can’t be late for my next client — I have to leave immediately after that session to pick up my children from their afterschool program. I tell Lisa we can “pick up there next week,” trying not to see the look of hurt in her eyes in response to my redirection.
Later that night, as I am trying to finish my notes after finally putting my children to bed, I carefully document the information that will demonstrate that my interventions reflect the appropriate protocol for GAD and that I carefully describe the symptoms that Lisa experiences that support the use of these interventions. Unfortunately, I entirely forget about the comment Lisa made at the end of the session.
Even if I had put it in my notes, I wouldn’t have time to review them before our next meeting — I am coming straight from 4 back-to-back appointments. I forget to bring it up, and Lisa never mentions it again.
It can be easy to blame yourself for these changes, to question whether you are lacking the motivation, discipline, and passion that brought you into the field in the first place. Traditional models of behavior change, which focus on the strengths, struggles, and “pathologies” of the individual, might direct us down this pathway of self-criticism and blame.
These approaches often ignore an important reality - our behaviors are deeply influenced by the environment around us. As our context changes, particularly when it is unstable or includes significant threat, our behavior must evolve if we are to stay aligned with our values and commitments.
In other words, we may need to update the “core processes” that support us, our work, and our clients. Fortunately, the field of behavioral science has given us some incredibly powerful tools to guide and support the kinds of changes that will allow us to flourish, even amidst the challenges of our current context.
Psychological Flexibility as an Alternative
Behavioral science has identified a core set of skills that allow people to adapt to challenging environments, and these are captured in the Psychological Flexibility model (Hayes et al, 2022). Rather than thinking of this model as a set of skills that we can impart upon our clients, we have an opportunity to embrace them ourselves, allowing us to show up for our own needs as well as for our clients’.
The term “Psychological Flexibility” refers to the ability to remain emotionally open, fully present, and focused on what matters most, even in the middle of conditions that challenge us.
Rather than minimizing the very real concerns that we experience in our current practice contexts, asking us to “detach”, or putting the responsibility for “coping better” on our shoulders, Psychological Flexibility supports greater freedom amidst these struggles. Freedom might look like the ability to stay engaged with clients while acknowledging real-world pressures, making decisions based on values rather than fear or reactivity, and allowing difficult internal experiences without letting them dictate our behavior.
Moments from My Own Practice
Utilizing Psychological Flexibility skills might look something like this:
When Lisa begins to veer away from the protocol and hesitantly shares what sounds like it could be a traumatic memory from her childhood, I notice the urge I feel to redirect her, and my own awareness of the time, my next client, and the children who need to be picked up. I slow myself down, and take a slow breath, noticing the sensation of my feet resting on the floor.
“I’m noticing we only have a few minutes left,” I say, “and what you just started to share feels important. I don’t want to rush past it or shut it down. Can we take a minute to just acknowledge what’s coming up right now, and then make a plan together for how to come back to it next time?”
Lisa nods, her eyes welling a bit, but she stays with me. We spend a minute or two helping her put words to what felt stirred up, and I check in briefly about what she needs between now and the next session. I tell her I am going to add a reminder to her appointment so I will remember to start here next time. Then I tell her “I want to come back to this with you next week. It feels connected to what we’ve been working on, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into the structure we’ve been using.”
The session still ends on time, but those last few moments of pausing, taking a breath together, and setting up this reminder has helped me feel more deeply connected to Lisa, and to why I do this work.
The Psychological Flexibility Series
The future of good clinical work will not depend solely on how much knowledge we possess or how productive we can be. It will depend on whether we as therapists can remain psychologically flexible enough to evolve and adapt within a changing, and challenging, system. In the midst of chronic instability, a focus on Psychological Flexibility provides a powerful alternative to trying to control the uncontrollable. It does not ask us to have access to an endless supply of individual motivation and willpower. Instead, it gives us a framework for thinking about how we can set up an environment that better will resource and support our needs, while we do the same with our clients.
Psychological Flexibility skills allow us to remain present in moments that are painful, and to respond intentionally rather than react automatically. And perhaps most importantly, it gives us a framework for building professional lives that are sustainable, values-aligned, and deeply human even amidst uncertainty.
In the articles that follow in this series, I’ll explore core processes of Psychological Flexibility. These include present-moment awareness in environments designed to fragment attention; relating differently to fear, self-criticism, and professional uncertainty without becoming dominated by them; and connecting with values-based action when exhaustion, systems pressure, and disillusionment begin to pull us away from the kind of therapists we want to be.
My hope is that this series does more than introduce a set of ideas. I hope it offers a practical and compassionate framework for sustaining yourself in this work without losing the depth, humanity, and presence that meaningful psychotherapy requires.
References:
Hayes, S. C., Ciarrochi, J., Hofmann, S. G., Chin, F., & Sahdra, B. (2022). Evolving an idionomic approach to processes of change: Towards a unified personalized science of human improvement. Behaviour research and therapy, 156, 104155. Link

Written by
Elisabeth Morray, PhD
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