Supporting a Client Who Lives in the Spotlight
- Joanna Baars
- 6 days ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 15 minutes ago
For the ones holding it all... and those who hold them quietly.
There’s a particular kind of care that rarely gets named. It’s the kind that happens behind the scenes, without ceremony, and often without thanks. The kind of care that protects someone else’s world so quietly that the one being protected doesn’t always know the cost.
If you support someone who lives in the spotlight whether as their assistant, advisor, physician, or simply the one person they can speak to without strategy, you likely know this care intimately. It’s the kind that adapts around the client, adjusts in real time, and holds shape under pressure.
And it’s exhausting.
Not because the person you support is unworthy of it. But because doing this kind of work well means making yourself smaller so someone else can stay composed. You anticipate instead of respond. You soften the edges of their day so they can get through it intact. You think two or three moves ahead, and you never call it effort.
When the person you support holds a public role – whether through fame, responsibility, leadership, or simply the weight of being seen – their need for discretion is often invisible until it’s breached. Which means your role is, in part, to know what could hurt them before they know it themselves.
That’s not an easy ask.
Especially when their emotional life becomes part of your job, too. When their pressure is so visible that you’re asked to hold the invisible part of it. The late-night messages. The changes in tone. The unspoken shifts in energy that no one else seems to notice.
And so, when therapy becomes a topic that is not just a concept, but a need, the responsibility often lands on you. You may be the one they trust to seek support for them, or the only one who knows how urgently it’s needed. You might find yourself choosing between a dozen options that all sound the same. You want what’s best, but you also know that what feels clinical or clever may not feel safe.
So, what does safe look like, for someone who is always seen?
It looks like small. Quiet. Contained.
It’s not about perfection or prestige. It’s not about picking the most qualified therapist or the best-reviewed platform. It’s about choosing someone who will understand, instinctively, what not to ask right away. Someone who won’t require a full story on day one. Someone who can sit with silence without trying to fix it.
Therapy, for high-profile clients, isn’t always about catharsis. It’s about creating a space where nothing has to be performed. A space that doesn’t mirror back what the world already sees, but allows for what hasn’t been seen in a very long time.
The most valuable thing you can do as a referrer or protector is not just to find the right person, but to hold the space around the process gently. To not press for feedback. To not ask how it’s going. To offer the contact and step back, even if the silence makes you nervous.
Because the kind of therapy that holds someone like this often begins before the client walks in. It begins with how they were referred. Whether the language felt soft enough. Whether the email didn’t ask too much. Whether the process was built for containment, or just for efficiency.
If you’ve done the work of finding a space that matches who they are and more importantly, what they’ve never had room to be, then you’ve already given more than most people ever will.
The rest isn’t your burden. It’s theirs to carry, but maybe, now, not alone.
A gentle reminder that these are not articles. They are reflections, written with care and best read the same way.