Doing infidelity couples therapy isn’t just about fixing your relationship, but surviving the emotional destruction of betrayal. With another person sitting across from you—your therapist—listening, and feeling every ounce of your pain, your guilt, your confusion.
While you’re struggling through tears, anger, and impossible questions, they’re doing the same, quietly, internally.
In “Grappling with Infidelity: the Experiences of Therapists,” researchers Vincent O’Rourke, Rosaleen McElvaney, and Melrona Kirrane explore this often-overlooked POV—what it’s like for the therapist.
Welcome to couples therapy, where infidelity is the third ‘person’ in the room. This study shows us how these professionals feel pulled between compassion and judgment. Staying neutral and picking a side.
How does your cheating aftermath impact the person there to help you navigate it? And does their inner struggle change your healing?
Therapists are people, too
We like to think therapists are above us, mere humans. Professional. Safe from the internal chaos we’re in. But that stereotype leaves something out: therapists are people, too.
Throughout the years, this image has been getting more attention. Dr. Harry J. Aponte and Jill E. Winter’s (LICSW) Person of the Therapist model (POTT) challenges this notion of neutrality. Instead, it’s suggested they should bring their whole personhood into the session; their beliefs, histories, and even their private pain. Rather than being a problem, their humanity is part of what makes therapy work.
This isn’t a fringe concept. The idea that the therapist’s inner world influences the therapeutic process is well established from Freud’s early thoughts on countertransference to humanistic and family therapy approaches. Salvador Minuchin, MD, even suggested that the therapist’s presence is more important than any technique they may use.
But what happens when the topic is infidelity?
Betrayal changes the energy in the room. It’s heavier. Raw. And while the therapist is supposed to stay present for both of you—no judgment, no sides—the truth is, they feel it, too. And those feelings don’t always come boxed in a neat professional package.
So, what’s really going on inside a therapist’s mind when a couple brings infidelity into the room?
That’s the question these researchers ask.
What it’s actually like
Before we explore what the therapists actually said (and felt), here’s how the study worked.
The research team came in without any pre-set assumptions. They listened to the participants, took notes, looked for patterns, and created a theory based on real experiences. They interviewed eight therapists from Ireland (six women and two men). Most had years, even decades, of experience in couples therapy. They came from different therapy backgrounds: integrative, systemic, psychodynamic, and person-centered.
Most importantly, they all worked with infidelity in their practice.
Each participant did a one-on-one semi-structured 50-minute interview. They were asked questions like “In what ways do you view/understand infidelity?” “What kinds of questions come to mind when working with infidelity?” “What effect does working on infidelity have on you?”
So, what did they find? One word: ambivalence.
“I feel torn, pulled apart.”
The participants didn’t feel just one thing when working with cheating couples. They felt everything. The participants were conflicted. They empathized with both partners, sometimes siding with one, sometimes judging both, and always trying to stay balanced. One put it bluntly: “I feel split.”
This sense of being emotionally divided came up repeatedly. Another participant said, “You have these two people; one just wants to run away and the other who just want to spill everything out.” And the therapist? “Even just trying to be a presence, a meaningful presence in the room can be quite difficult.”
How do they deal with these contradictions? By embracing the mess.
“Part of me wants to say, ‘Swine…’”
The participants admitted to having gut reactions—anger, sadness, frustration—but claimed they tried to make room for those feelings rather than push them away. One described the urge to lash out at the cheating partner with “Swine, do you know the damage you have caused here?” but they have to remain neutral.
But neutral didn’t always mean detached. Another acknowledged, “Sometimes I allow myself to get drawn in a bit because I think it is actually part of building the relationship with each person.”
This wasn’t just about managing clients. Therapists also had to manage themselves. That means constantly checking in on their own biases, assumptions, and histories.
Then, of course, there’s gender bias
The participants weren’t afraid to talk about the role of gender in their reactions. One male therapist admitted, “Honestly, I’m often surprised when the female partner has been unfaithful within the relationship. I have some kind of gender bias.” They also noticed they felt “less compassion” when the betrayed partner was a man.
Female therapists noted that women often assume they would take their side (no matter if they were the cheater or the cheated). One said, “I don’t think I’ve had any cases where a couple attends where she hasn’t tried to get me on board.” Sometimes that worked in favor of building trust, and other times, it made things harder with the male partner.
Being aware of these gender dynamics was critical. Therapists constantly asked themselves if they were being fair or being pulled in one direction. They used that awareness to course-correct, ideally without losing empathy.
“I can feel it in my stomach.”
The emotional toll of the session rarely remains in the room; Participants described carrying it home with them. One explained it as “heart pounding, feeling shaky,” while another simply called it “heavy work.”
They spoke of emotional residue. Being drained after certain sessions. “They came into the room and threw everything out,” one said. “It was painful and very emotionally searing.”
They had to remind themselves why they chose this line of work in the first place. One admitted to thinking, “I don’t think I can really do this.” But then, “whenever you sit down in that room, the energy comes.”
It creeps into their personal lives, too.
Several mentioned how client stories made them re-evaluate their own relationships. One said, “You hear of so many ways of people being unfaithful. You start to look at your own partner.”
Still, these therapists weren’t defeated by this vulnerability. They used it. They reflect and grow from it. And in doing so, they could stay with their clients, without losing themselves.
Holding space without getting swallowed
It’s not just about feeling things. It’s about using those feelings wisely.
That’s what the study calls “assimilating ambivalence.” Therapists don’t ignore their emotions. They don’t deny when they’re being pulled. Instead, they recognize it and pause. And they decide how to respond.
Sometimes that means identifying their internal conflict and adjusting their approach. Sometimes it means asking a difficult question, even when it feels risky. One therapist described these moments as “firing the gun,” naming the tension in the room that no one else has said out loud.
They also know when they’re in too deep. One said, “I’m swinging with them,” describing how easily they could get caught in the couple’s power struggle. When that happened, they worked to realign themselves, returning to center.
Why this research matters and what’s next
What does this study mean for the actual work of therapy when we now know that therapists are emotionally affected by infidelity cases?
Quite a lot.
The research could argue that therapists shouldn’t push those feelings away. Noticing and reflecting on them can make therapy more powerful. The authors propose a three-stage model for them to follow: embracing, tuning into, and assimilating ambivalence.
This tool reassures therapists who might feel like their inner turmoil means they’re doing something wrong. It’s part of the process. It permits them to say, ‘this is hard,’ and still do the work well.
Therapists can use the framework to protect the therapeutic relationship. When they understand their emotional reactions, they’re less likely to act them out and more likely to stay fair. And more likely to help clients feel safe and seen.
Like all research, this study had its limits
The sample size was small—eight therapists, all based in Ireland—so the findings might not apply everywhere. And the authors acknowledged the sample lacked diversity. They also didn’t include participant feedback after the study was analyzed. And like all interview-based studies, this one is affected by memory. Therapists might’ve emphasized dramatic stories or left out more mundane details.
On the plus side, it provides a detailed, emotional, real-world insight into a topic that’s been underexplored. It’s qualitative, which means it doesn’t reduce people to numbers. It builds a theory from the ground up, based on lived experience. And the researchers were thoughtful, checking their biases and using reflexive journals to stay honest throughout the process.
They encourage future research that brings in more voices and contexts and even explores what happens when therapists don’t manage their emotional responses well.
In the end, therapists aren’t emotionless guides
They’re human, with real-person feelings. When infidelity plops into the therapy session, it affects everyone, not just the couple. This research shows us how therapists think, feel, and struggle with their reactions.
However, this isn’t a flaw, it’s part of what makes couples therapy meaningful. And for any of us healing from the ultimate betrayal, this kind of grounded, honest support may be exactly what’s needed.
Because therapy isn’t clean, it’s human—that’s what makes it work.
