What’s on the Shelf Isn’t Always the Tool

Therapy tools aren’t always still.
They aren’t just books on a shelf or worksheets in a binder.
Sometimes, they’re a miniature car held between fingers, or a tiny plastic ladder placed with intention into soft, forgiving sand.

This week, I practiced my SandTray skills with the help of one of my favorite people—my daughter, who’s now in college and generously offered her time (and patience) to be part of my learning process.

It was humbling. And also deeply meaningful.

As a mental health counseling intern, I’m expanding my toolkit every day—not just in theory, but in lived practice. I’ve learned that creating safe, symbolic spaces isn’t just for the client’s benefit—it helps me slow down, stay curious, and hold space for what words can’t always capture.

SandTray therapy may look like play…
But it’s more than that.

It’s storytelling in motion. It’s metaphor, memory, and meaning unfolding in real time. It’s giving someone a chance to explore their world with their hands when language feels too sharp—or too far away.

Each small object becomes a placeholder for something larger:
A tree for growth. A fence for boundaries. A path for what’s ahead—or what’s been lost.

And in those moments, I’m reminded that therapy isn’t just about tools or theories—it’s about presence. About noticing. About being with someone in their process, not directing it.

So yes, there’s technique.
There’s trauma-informed structure and narrative shaping and existential curiosity.
But there’s also… joy. Surprise. Connection.

Let’s be honest:
It’s also just fun.
And I think healing—real healing—needs room for that, too.