Christie Sanchez (SHe/Her)

While I believe that we are always changing, I am most consistently a writer, a runner, a therapist, and a person deeply loved by my spouse.

My work as a therapist has looked like so many things over the past few years. At times, it’s looked like reading poetry with clients and other times it’s looked like creating roadmaps of past traumas and observing a client’s way through. Most consistently, I work with queer and trans BIPOC navigating intersections of joy and grief. The work is hard and complicated and nuanced, undoubtedly — there are multiple right ways forward and my only intention is your unwavering liberation in this life.

Christie is a licensed professional counselor and a distinguished graduate of The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. She received her Master’s Degree in Counseling Psychology with a concentration in trauma and crisis intervention and theological training from Chicago Theological Seminary. Christie is a queer Latine therapist who engages in dismantling White Supremacy within the mental health field.

Christie is only seeing clients virtually at this time.

Questions? christie@forrealtherapy.com

INTERVIEW BIO WITH Christie

WHAT DO YOU MOST ENJOY ABOUT BEING A THERAPIST?

I most enjoy the relationships I form with clients and the privilege of holding these relationships for years at a time. Because my clients and I have so many overlapping identities, the relationship is utilized as a powerful tool of understanding and empathy in the therapy room. Therapy is such an intimate experience, for a therapist, too. Everything about the experience to me feels sacred - I get to help carry the narratives of profound trauma and the smallest details of people’s days - like what they had for lunch. What’s impactful about this observation is not its parts, but what it all sums up to. Session after session after session, it’s the stuffing of someone’s life that they create and they choose me to witness it. I have such gratitude for that.

How do you incorporate writing into your therapy practice?

I like to encourage my clients to write because I think it can help slow our thinking down, it can help us find language to feelings and emotions, it can create a picture to something that’s otherwise unclear or blurry. But not all days are writing days. Some sessions are reading that one poem from that one author that said the one thing we didn’t know anyone else in the world felt. I had a friend once tell me that all living is an act of writing — so maybe you don’t put pen to paper, or maybe you’re just a little insecure about the writing process — either way, there’s always a narrative at work.

WHAT CAN I EXPECT WHEN WORKING WITH YOU?

You can expect that you’ll get out of therapy what you put into it. Therapy is hard work and requires different things from different people. You can expect that I’ll prioritize our relationship, I’ll keep you accountable, I’ll challenge you, and I’ll be open to whatever you bring.

WHO ARE SOME CLIENTS YOU FEEL MOST COMFORTABLE WORKING WITH?

I definitely prioritize BIPOC clients who are ready to think critically about themselves and others. This is half the battle. Can you ask yourself the hard question? And then can you be honest when you answer?

WHAT IS YOUR UNIVERSAL PIECE OF ADVICE?

Lean into it.

to my clients

The sharpness of my tongue is rooted in my mother’s front taste buds – 
The tongue that rolls her r’s when she says my full name/when I think of what I have to give to people 
I think of Christina: my fullest self 
The self that therapizes and rationalizes my own ancestral blood/how sacred 
And how sweet I know this work to be 
—
You could trace me back to the border in one generation and I bet you’ve never heard of Eagle Pass, Texas 
Bet grandma made that whole town shake when she laughed/when she died 
In November 
That town didn’t shake no more 
And I don’t know if I’ll ever go back 
When I think of what I have to give to people I think of shaking-border-towns 
I think of the other half of me found 
Somewhere in Laredo, the birth of my mother’s front taste buds 
—
I have always been this tall 
Meaning, my spine, I swear, is made of tree trunk 
Is made of writer 
In the third grade, I brought my poetry journal to Show & Tell/and I cannot remember a time 
when my head was not somewhere in the clouds 
I have been healing since I was a child 
And I know 
That what I have to give is a forest of my self 
—
There is always one more thing
From the first time I loved a woman 
To the last time the Church said I couldn’t 
And yeah – I don’t know if I’ll ever go back/but when I move forward 
I am sure that God is a question 
I am sure that my practice is, too 
I am sure that what I have to give is always asking for more 
When you tell me where it hurts 
And we learn how to heal 
And I will always be seeking the truth of what it means for us both to be here 
So giving of ourselves 
And so receiving of each other