A couple of years ago, I decided to undertake further study and embarked on a degree in counselling and psychotherapy. 

I did so mainly because I believe in the power of therapy. It’s helped me many times in my life – and now, as a trainee psychotherapist, I’m getting a deeper insight into how I can similarly support others.

And from day one of my training, three core principles were highlighted as the foundation for effective therapy – empathy, congruence and unconditional positive regard.

But sadly, thanks to the Irish legal system, there’s another. And that’s extreme caution.

Of course, it goes without saying that you have to be ethically and morally careful when people are coming to you in a vulnerable state. But there’s another layer of vigilance necessary, thanks to Irish law.

‘Write as if there’s someone trying to read it over your shoulder,’ advised one lecturer, in explaining how to record counselling notes for clients. 

No names, no identifying details, as these notes are kept for seven years, either digitally encrypted or physically locked away; this is to protect the client should the notes somehow be stolen or accessed by another person.

That makes sense. What doesn’t is this – the brevity of note-taking is also to ensure that no information could possibly be taken out of context, should the notes be subpoenaed in rape and sexual assault trials. 

And let’s be clear – in Irish legal history, this practice only applies to sexual offence cases, of which the majority of complainants are women.

And while there have been recent positive changes in the Criminal Law and Civil Law Bill 2026, including the removal of the deeply coercive Section 19A waiver (which effectively pressured victims into handing over their counselling records) the reform feels half-baked at best.

What has replaced it is not the clean break needed by women who have endured the horror of sexual violence.

Stating that therapy notes will now be presumed private, to be disclosed only if a judge decides they are genuinely relevant to a case, is nothing other than advanced gate-keeping.

There is no blanket ban, no definitive recognition that a survivor’s counselling room should remain a protected, sacred space.

There’s no honouring or understanding of this sanctuary, of the delicate journey of healing. A person should be able to enter a counselling room and speak freely. In fact, it’s possibly the only place in their world where they can do that.

So this month, while the language may have changed, the threat remains for survivors of living with the possibility – no matter how slim – of being asked to surrender pieces of their soul in order to seek justice.

This is not reform, and it’s a profound ethical and human rights issue, for both therapist and client.

As a woman who has been on both sides of the therapy room – as a therapist in training and also as a survivor of sexual violence – I find it nothing short of reprehensible.

I know first-hand how trauma rarely presents itself in a linear or coherent narrative. It is fragmented and shifting. It brings with it feelings of self blame, of fear, of guilt and numbness as you process it all. 

God knows I blamed myself for long enough – because that is what this country had conditioned women who had been attacked to do.

I also know just how vital confidentiality and trust is to the therapeutic relationship. Without it, there’s nothing.

And in a country that claims to support women, the practice of subpoenaing therapy notes stems from a place that historically treated women who have been raped and abused with suspicion rather than compassion.

It harks back to a time that rape-culture pervaded this country – where women were victim-blamed, ostracised in communities for telling the truth and where the offender was supported, either implicitly in silence, or explicitly with a good character reference in court.

 A person could be waiting about four years for a rape case to go to trial. And now, we risk survivors avoiding therapy altogether at a time when they need it most.

Against such odds, is it any wonder that many women do not report sexual violence or withdraw from the process entirely, when only a fraction of cases ever reach court, and even fewer result in conviction?

I know I didn’t. But that was many years ago. My attacker has since died – and therapy was the one space where I could heal, work out all the contradiction and chaos, all the hurt and darkness. 

I shudder to think of such pain being further dissected in the coldness of a courtroom.

The devastating effect of using notes in court has been well documented. Women liken it to a second, possibly worse violation – inflicted by the very legal system meant to protect them.

Ireland should be encouraging survivors of sexual violence to get help and seek justice. We shouldn’t have to weigh up any potential risks for either.

Therapy can and does save lives, as long as safety and trust are protected above all else. And it is shameful that in 2026 Ireland, such basic humanity fails to be fully recognised.