Maybe It’s Therapy

Not long ago, I was on a call with a potential client who happened to be a therapist. We were talking, going back and forth, asking questions, just having a conversation. Like any business interaction, I was trying to understand her and her work more deeply so I’d have the context I needed if we decided to work together.

At one point, she stopped and asked if I had any experience as a therapist.

I was caught off guard. I’m a designer. What could have possibly made her think I had a background in mental health? She told me it was the way I was asking questions. The kinds of questions she asks her own clients. Always looking for the deeper meaning behind what people say and do.

It was a funny moment, and I didn’t think much of it at the time.

Recently, I was working with a client to build the foundation of their brand. As usual, I kept pushing deeper. Asking questions, circling back, trying to understand not just what they do, but why they do it.

Eventually, they shared a story from their childhood. Something they hadn’t thought about in years. A memory that, in hindsight, felt like the inciting incident for where they are now. Since that conversation, they’ve told me that memory has stayed with them. It shifted how they see their work.

That’s when it clicked.

Maybe brand design is a form of therapy. Not in the clinical sense, but in the way it forces reflection and uncovers what was always there, just buried.

That’s where direction comes from. Not guessing, but understanding.

My background is in film, where we were taught to look for subtext. The small details. The quiet moments that reveal what a story is really about. Life works the same way. The most defining moments aren’t always loud or obvious. More often, they’re subtle. Easy to overlook. Easy to forget.

But they shape everything.

Building a brand means finding those moments. Peeling back layers of ideas, assumptions, and experiences until you reach something honest. Something that feels true.

That’s what great brands are built on.

Not a polished positioning statement or a clever promise, but something more human. A memory. A moment. A truth that’s been there all along, waiting to be uncovered.

I used to think being a therapist would be an interesting path. At one point, I even considered it. I may not be one in the traditional sense, but there’s a clear overlap between what I do and what therapists do.

Both are about asking better questions. About creating space for clarity. About helping people see what was already there.

The tools may be different, but the work is the same. Find what’s been there all along and use it to move forward with clarity and understanding.