As a newly qualified therapist, my future seemed bright.<\/p>\n
I floated out from the final exam, sensing I’d done well and knowing I’d found my calling. Dizzy with excitement, I couldn’t wait to save the world. Or at least some emotionally troubled people in my little corner of it.<\/p>\n
I’d earn a living on my<\/i> terms doing something that meant something. Money would come as a pleasant side effect, but the important thing was that I was doing something meaningful to me.<\/p>\n
Little did I know idealism and financial reality were about to painfully collide. You see, I was no entrepreneur, no marketer, no Richard Branson.<\/p>\n
I was, well, a therapist<\/i>. It felt almost…distasteful to think about self-promotion.<\/p>\n
And there’d been very little on the course about how to actually make money at therapy. Why should I think it deserved my attention?<\/p>\n
So, where did that put me?<\/p>\n