How to Leave Work at Work: Emotional Boundaries for Caring Professionals
Back when I was a teacher, I used to drive thirty minutes home after work each day.
And just about halfway, there was a bridge. It was my “let it go” bridge – the transition point between my “work thoughts” and my “home thoughts.” No matter what I was navigating at school or which students I was worried about, that bridge was my physical reminder to not bring it all home with me.
It was a threshold separating my work from the rest of my life, which felt really important in that season.
But not all of us have the benefit of long drives or big bridges. Some of us work from our homes. Some of us have a hard time just "turning it off." And for those of us who care for others as part of our profession, "turning it off" at all can feel a bit like we're deciding to stop caring.
When our work involves supporting students, patients, clients, or community members facing acute and immediate challenges, it's easy to keep thinking about them long after the workday ends. We might replay a conversation, worry about someone we couldn't help as much as we wanted, or wonder whether there was something more we could have done.
Letting Things Go At the End of the Day
I recently asked a therapist-friend of mine how he “let things go” at the end of each work day and he had some beautiful imagery I wanted to pass along.
He shared this:
I imagine myself as if I were a bowl at the ocean’s edge. When the waves come in, I let them fill me up. And when the waves recede, I empty myself of the ocean water. There is still a residue, but I don’t have to carry all of it anymore.
The same is true with my therapy practice. When a client comes in, my bowl fills with their stories, their curiosities, whatever we’re working on together in those 50 minutes. I’m fully present to them. And then when they leave, I release everything we’ve done in that time because it isn’t mine to hold any longer.
I’ve found when I do this, I typically don’t take work home with me. The residue is still there – the relationship has impacted me, of course – but I don’t have to hold it all as if it were mine.
This imagery reminds me that we can be affected by the stories of others without taking them on as if they are our own.
It’s a form of emotional boundary-setting: not becoming detached or caring less, but instead recognizing that I can be fully present with someone and that their life is separate from mine.
That I can let your experience matter to me without taking it on as mine to carry forward.
(I will note: this "residue" he mentioned does tend to have an impact on us long-term. In certain circumstances, it can develop over time into a sense of compassion fatigue or vicarious, "secondary" trauma. This is why it's vital we also create routines of self- and community care – more on that next Wednesday!)
How to Leave Work at Work
Over the next few days, I invite you to practice setting (or re-setting) boundaries with your caring work. That might mean choosing a physical “let it go” threshold, reminding yourself of imagery like the ocean’s bowl, or creating another small ritual that helps you transition out of work mode.
Choose a threshold. Is there a place on your commute, a doorway, or a moment at the end of your workday that could remind you to begin letting go?
Try the ocean bowl. Imagine allowing yourself to be fully present with someone while they're with you, then releasing what isn't yours to carry when the interaction ends. (I highly encourage walking or moving while you do this.)
Notice what follows you home. When work thoughts return, ask yourself whether there's a concrete action you need to take or whether you're continuing to carry something you can't resolve right now.
I’d love to hear how it goes.
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