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​My 11-year-old son regularly educates me on what is and what is not a vibe. Apparently, this is a very serious assessment, often referred to as a “vibe check.” He insists that homework and bedtime kill his vibe—though, after 20 minutes of listening to him complain about it, I can confirm that his complaining kills mine.

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As a true (now) Southern Californian family, we sprinkle “vibe” and “dude” into our sentences more often than Jeff Spicoli himself. But for those of us who are not cool enough to fully grasp the nuances of "vibe" (yes, I’m including myself here), it generally refers to an emotional state or the perceived atmosphere of a situation.

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In my therapy sessions, my clients use the term constantly—vibe-checking first dates, new jobs, and awkward family gatherings. At this point, I’ve realized that “vibe” is essentially a new diagnostic tool. Forget scaling anxiety from 1 to 10; now, I’m assessing whether a situation is giving good vibes or a complete vibe wreck. 

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But let’s not forget—the therapy room has a vibe too. And it’s my job to make sure it’s the right one. I want my clients to feel safe, respected, and supported. My goal is to curate an atmosphere that is non-judgmental, compassionate, and curious. So, just like my clients vibe-check their relationships and environments, I also encourage vibe-checks in therapy. I ask my clients for feedback—Are we vibing? Is this space working for you? Are my interventions hitting the right note? Thankfully, the answer is usually yes (though I have yet to hear someone say “This therapy session is totally a vibe,” but a therapist can dream).

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So, in an embarrassing attempt to keep up with the linguistic coolness of my son and clients, let’s vibe. Or at least let’s try to.

 
Mandy 

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