When I first transitioned from occupational therapy to personal training, I didn’t think much about how my OT background would set me apart. I assumed my technical knowledge, programming skills, and experience with movement were what mattered most. I mean, those are the things people hire trainers for, right?
Well, yes. But also, not at all.
Something I have come to understand over the past several years is that what separates the good trainers from the great ones are the “soft skills” that I have yet to see training certification teach. In OT school, we had this phrase drilled into us: therapeutic use of self. It’s not about the tools, the interventions, or the exercises; it’s about how you show up for your clients.
I’ll elaborate on this one a bit.
In occupational therapy, “therapeutic use of self” means using your personality, presence, and communication style intentionally to build trust, motivate, and create meaningful change for your clients. It’s about meeting people where they are—physically, mentally, emotionally—and then helping them move forward.
As a personal trainer, I use this skill Every. Single Day. When a client is new to exercise, feeling self-conscious, or struggling with an old injury, I know that how I interact with them matters just as much as what I put in their program. I’ve learned to use my words, energy, and body language to build trust, calm fears, and empower people to believe they’re capable of more than they think. When you show up with authenticity and intention, clients feel it.
Part of this concept of therapuetic use of self is active listening. You know how people say, “I hear you,” but you can tell they’re already thinking about what to say next? Active listening means closing your mouth, tuning in, and really hearing what the other person is saying. It’s not just about their words but the things left unsaid: the hesitations, the nervous tone, the sighs between sentences. Maybe a client says, “I’ve been so busy; I didn’t get all my workouts in.” I could lecture them about consistency or I could listen deeper and ask:
“What’s been feeling overwhelming for you?” Nine times out of ten, that opens up a conversation that helps me better support them.
Another part of this concept is intentional rapport building. This isn’t just about being friendly or asking how someone’s weekend went. It’s about creating a space where clients feel safe, seen, and supported—especially when they’re doing something vulnerable, like struggling under a barbell or feeling out of shape. In therapy, we spend time getting to know our clients—not just what’s going on with their body, but who they are as people. What motivates them? What are they afraid of? What stories do they tell themselves when things get hard? I bring this same curiosity to training. If I know someone has a history of back pain, I don’t just program deadlifts and hope for the best. I explain why we’re doing them, how their body is strong and capable, and that I’ll adjust things if necessary. That level of trust isn’t built overnight, but when you take the time to create it? Magic.
In the fitness industry, we love to prioritize the “hard skills”—the technical knowledge, the programming expertise, the certifications. And those things are important. But the soft skills? The ability to listen, connect, and adapt? Those are what keep clients coming back. As a therapist-turned-trainer, I know this: You can have the best program in the world, but if your clients don’t feel supported, understood, and seen, they won’t trust you enough to stick with it.
This therapeutic use of self is something I strive to bring to every session (some days better than others), and why I wholeheatedly believe trainers should spend just as much time on soft-skill development as they spend under a bar or with their heads in a textbook.