When Clients Apologize for Crying: Unpacking Emotional Shame
Confession Time: Even as a therapist, crying hasn’t always come easy for me. I started therapy as a teenager, and for years, I carried this frustrating sense that I was incapable of crying in therapy—like something was locked up inside me. That’s why, when a client cries in session, the emotion I feel most isn’t discomfort or concern—it’s pride.
So next time your eyes well up, and the tears start to fall—pay attention to the reflexive apology.
“Sorry”, “I didn’t want to cry today”, or “I don’t know why I’m crying—this is so stupid” are all a product of the world we grew up in, not of the reality of the situation. Crying in therapy isn’t a problem, it’s a signal. The apology or shame is a sign too—usually pointing to something much deeper than the tears themselves.
Let’s talk about what’s really going on when crying comes wrapped in shame, and why it never needs an apology.
The Myth of “Too Much”
Many of us have grown up with messages (spoken or unspoken) that emotions are something to be managed, hidden, or—better yet—not felt at all. Crying was “dramatic”, and tears were “manipulative.” Being emotional made you “weak,” “unstable,” or worse, “too sensitive.”
So, when someone cries in a space that’s supposed to be safe, their first reflex might not be relief—it might be shame. The apology isn’t really about the tears. It’s about the fear underneath them:
“Am I taking up too much space?”
“Will you think less of me now?”
“Is this okay?”
Tears Are Not a Malfunction
Crying is not a failure of coping. It’s a form of coping.
In fact, tears can be a sign that something important is surfacing—something that finally feels safe enough to be expressed. When clients apologize for crying, they’re often revealing how much emotional suppression they’ve had to do in the past just to survive, belong, or keep the peace.
It’s not just a moment of sadness. It’s often years of “holding it together” catching up with them.
Where Emotional Shame Comes From
Let me be blunt: our culture doesn’t exactly cheer and applaud for emotional expression—especially in public, especially if you’re not a child, and especially if you were socialized to be the caretaker, the fixer, or the “strong one.” Emotional shame can grow in all kinds of environments:
Families where big feelings weren’t welcomed or were punished (“I’ll give you something to cry about!”)
Cultures that prioritize stoicism over vulnerability (“Men don’t cry.”)
Relationships where expressing emotion made you feel unsafe, silly, or invisible (“You always cry over nothing.”)
Systems (like school, work, or healthcare) that reward productivity and numbness, but not humanity
In these contexts, it’s not surprising that by the time someone lands in therapy, crying feels like breaking the rules.
What I Wish All Clients Knew
You never need to apologize for crying! Ever!
I’m honored when a client feels safe enough to cry in session, it means they trust me and the space we’ve co-created. Tears are welcome here. They are not too much, they are not a burden. They are not embarrassing, disruptive, or off-topic. They are often the topic—and they deserve the same attention and care as anything you say out loud.
And if crying feels scary or unfamiliar, that’s okay too. You don’t need to force anything. But if your body brings tears forward, it’s not betraying you. It’s trusting you.
What Healing from Emotional Shame Looks Like
If you’ve internalized the belief that showing emotion is unsafe or unacceptable, healing means:
Naming it: Realizing when shame shows up and what it’s trying to protect.
Creating safety: Reminding yourself (with the help of a therapist, journal, or trusted other) that emotions are allowed, even welcome.
Practicing expression: Letting yourself feel without judgment—whether it’s through tears, words, movement, or silence.
Rewriting the narrative: Replacing “I’m sorry for crying” with “This matters to me,” or even just “I feel this.”
This is your reminder that…
It takes a lot of courage to let yourself be vulnerable and express emotion in a world that constantly urges us not to. I’m in awe of how some of you carry that courage so easily.
Crying is not a weakness, it’s a release. And if your instinct is to apologize for that release, that’s not something to shame yourself for either. It just means you’ve been conditioned to be small, to be quiet, to be in control.
Healing asks something different of you: to be whole, and big, and loud. So the next time you feel the tears coming and hear yourself start to say “sorry,” see if you can pause and ask, “What if this is okay?”