There’s a word that’s been coming up lately that felt like I needed to talk about: collaborate. I looked up the meaning (thanks AI!) and thought it was from Latin — I was right. It comes from collaborare: com, meaning together, and laborare, meaning to work or to toil. To labour together.
There’s something interesting in that underlying meaning. Real collaboration doesn’t come without some toil. It asks something of us.
So why bother to collaborate? Because it offers something beyond ourselves — an expansion of what becomes possible when we allow others in.
As someone who works for myself, I could easily operate in isolation. And in some ways, the nature of therapy encourages that — confidential, contained, one-to-one. But in reality, I’m not often working alone — only when doing the admin (the joy!).
What Collaboration Actually Needs
In writing this, I thought about the ingredients, and I came to this list — you might have others to add: trust, honesty, respect, willingness, openness — and perhaps most importantly, a readiness to be a little vulnerable. To come together without all the answers. To say, I don’t know yet, but let’s find out together.
Without trust, there is no real sharing. Without honesty, we collaborate on a surface level, keeping the real stuff tucked away. Respect means we hold each other’s ideas carefully, even when we disagree. And openness? That’s what allows something new to emerge — something neither person could have arrived at alone.
Vulnerability is less obvious but necessary. We often think we need to show up as competent, polished, certain. But some of the best collaborations begin with someone saying, I’m not sure how to do this — and another replying, neither am I, but let’s try.
I often tell people when I’m asking a question that I have no idea what the answer is — the importance is in asking and exploring what comes up together.
Collaboration in the Therapy Room
In my work as a therapist, collaboration is central to how I understand my role. I don’t come with a fixed interpretation waiting to be delivered. I don’t assume I know what someone’s experience means to them. In my opinion, the best therapy happens in the space between each person — sharing and bringing open energy.
The client is the expert in themselves. They carry the lived knowledge of their own life — the texture of it, the history, the patterns they’ve noticed and the ones they haven’t yet. My role is to bring something else: training, theory, and the questions that might unlock what feels stuck.
We share that space with curiosity and respect. We’re working toward something together — greater understanding, the possibility of change — and neither of us gets there without the other.
That, for me, is collaboration at its most meaningful. Not one person leading and another following, but two people genuinely working in the same direction. This has happened a number of times in the past month, and the results have been incredibly rewarding.
Beyond the Therapy Room
As my practice grows — moving back into group work, workshops, and shared creative spaces — collaboration has become part of how I build, not just how I work.
Right now, I’m doing the final preparations for a workshop I’m genuinely excited about. I mentioned it in the previous newsletter. Stitch the Past was created alongside Sue, a textile artist whose work brings beauty and mindfulness into the same space. The idea emerged from a conversation, grew through trust, and became something neither of us could have designed alone.
And in getting the word out, collaboration came up again. Another friend, Sue, who runs wonderful local yoga classes, handed out our flyers with generosity. Others have shared the workshop across their networks, sent messages, opened doors. None of it is taken for granted — people who believe in what we’re trying to do and are willing to put a little of themselves behind it.
That’s the quiet power of collaboration. It multiplies what any one person can do. And it reminds us that we are, at our best, creatures who thrive in connection — not in spite of needing others, but because of it.
An Invitation
I wonder, as you read this: where in your life are you working alone when you might not need to be? What might open up if you let someone else in?
Collaboration doesn’t require a grand project or a formal arrangement. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying, I’d love your thoughts on this — and then genuinely listening to the answer.
