Silke van Loenen - Therapeutic Coach for Lawyers

I’m Dutch. I have Indonesian roots, from both sides of my family. I’ve been living in Spain for quite some time now.

After the independence war, my grandparents never went back to their country of birth. Even in the Netherlands, Indonesia was always a part of their lives: photos, food, words, gestures, fabrics, music, and of course the pasar malams in the Netherlands where for a few hours everything smelled and sounded like home. For me too, it was home away from home, even though I was born and raised in The Netherlands.

Many immigration lawyers have an immigration background themselves. They know what it means to navigate between worlds. But the same time that background can tear them apart because they know their client’s situation all too well or recognise that situation from their (grand)parents when they moved countries.

In my upcoming webinar “Vicarious Trauma in the Legal World” I’ll talk about how your background, your job and Vicarious Trauma are connected.

Just to be clear, Vicarious Trauma is not only related to (traumatic) backgrounds. Constant exposure to demanding emotional cases can also cause Vicarious Trauma.

If any of this resonates, or you’re simply curious to learn more, I’d love to have you there.

🗓️ Thursday September 3rd
🕰️ 18h00 CET, 17h00 GMT, 12pm EST, 9am PST
🔗 Register via link in bio

Immigration lawyers regularly work with stories of persecution, detention, violence, separation, loss and uncertainty. Over time, these stories can take an emotional toll on you, especially when you deeply care about your clients and your job.

In this free 45-minute webinar, we’ll explore vicarious trauma, burnout and secondary traumatic stress, the differences between them, and why understanding those differences are important.

We’ll look at:
• The early warning signs in yourself, your colleagues and your practice.
• How constant exposure can affect your wellbeing, relationships and sense of self.
• Practical, field-tested strategies to process the emotional weight of the work before it takes over your whole life.
• How to build greater clarity, calm, confidence and control while doing demanding, trauma-exposed legal work.

This is an informative and practical presentation for immigration lawyers who want to protect their wellbeing without losing their compassion or commitment to their clients.

This webinar is a standalone session designed to give you genuinely useful tools.

And because I believe in being transparent: At the end, I’ll briefly introduce my upcoming live group coaching cohort The ROLL™️ Method Bootcamp: 4 Weeks to Lighter Work-Life Balance for Immigration Lawyers. For those who want to go deeper and learn how to process the emotional weight of their work without it consuming their health, their relationships, or their sense of self completely. There’s no obligation to join.

🗓️ Thursday, September 3rd, 2026
🕰️ 18h CET, 17h GMT, 12pm CET, 9am PST
🔗 Zoom, see link in bio to register

Free | 45 minutes | For immigration lawyers

I've spent the last few months talking to immigration lawyers about what their biggest emotional struggles are.
The sleepless nights. The guilt for living well. The numbing just to cope. The snapping at the people they love. The feeling that nobody really understands what they are dealing with, not even the people closest to them.

Every single conversation confirmed what I already knew from my 1:1 work: this needs to be addressed urgently. And nobody is talking about it.

So I built something.

The ROLL™ Method Bootcamp. A 4 week live online group coaching program for immigration lawyers who love their work but are close to breaking point.

Not a stress management course.
Not generic advice about setting boundaries.
It's practical, evidence-based tools to handle the emotional weight of this work. For your mind and your body. Because stress lives in both.

The goal? Keep doing your job without it destroying your health, your relationships or your sense of self.

I'm opening a small founding round. Just 10 people. Starting July 23rd.
The investment is €97: a fraction of what it will be when it launches fully. In return I ask for your active participation, honest feedback and a testimonial if you loved it.

If you're an immigration lawyer who recognises any of this - or if you know someone who might - I'd love to hear from you. My DM is open.

Feeling guilty for going on holiday doesn’t make you a better lawyer. It makes you a depleted one.

Ha! I said it. Come get me. 😆

Immigration lawyers experience a very specific kind of guilt: the guilt of freedom.

You can book a flight. Cross a border without fear. Sit on a beach and not wonder if someone will come for you in the night. You can switch off. Your clients can’t.

That contrast is painful. Because your life is free, lighter, more comfortable, and theirs is not.

If rest feels like betrayal. If a holiday becomes something to feel ashamed of. If switching off feels like a moral failure. And if you’re denying yourself these moments of recharging, you’re not protecting your clients. You’re punishing yourself.

Your clients don’t need a lawyer who never disconnects. They need a lawyer who shows up sharp, clear-headed and fully present. They need someone who holds their case without breaking under the weight of it.

You can’t do that if you never stop.

Taking a holiday is not abandoning your clients. It is making sure you are standing when they need you.

The most effective thing you can do for the people you represent is take care of the person representing them. You.

That’s not selfish. It’s setting boundaries. And it’s professional responsibility too.

People assume coaches are always calm, soft, endlessly compassionate.

I’m not.

I get moody. Disconnected. Impatient. I ride a motorbike partly because I love the vulnerability of it. That feeling of fear and being completely free at the same time.

I’m not a coach who has it all together. I’m a person who has learned to work with all of it though: the mess, the fear, the mood swings, the impatience, the insecurities, the stress.

This photo was taken the first time I rode in the mountains in Spain. It wasn’t an easy ride.
- I didn’t have much experience riding in the mountains: I learned to ride in the Netherlands… no mountains there.
- I had a passenger depending on me. The responsibility terrified me.

Was it fun? Not in the moment. Afterwards? Absolutely.

That’s what stepping out of your comfort zone actually looks like. Stressful. Scary. Far from graceful 🫣 Just doing it anyway.
And trusting you’ll be okay on the other side.

That’s what I teach my clients too. Because I know what it takes to keep going, even when I don’t have it all together.

It’s learning whilst doing.

Why immigration lawyers feel guilty for going on holiday, and why that guilt is making things worse.

Guilt is one of the most common emotions my immigration lawyer clients share.
It’s not just about their cases. It’s about their lives.

The guilt of going on holiday when their client doesn’t know if they’ll be deported during summer.
The guilt of switching off their phone on a Sunday.
The guilt of sitting on a beach, free to move, free to travel, free from fear, when the people they represent don’t have that freedom.

That guilt makes complete sense. It’s a natural response to empathy and a genuine commitment to your clients. If you didn’t feel it, you probably wouldn’t be as good at what you do.

But here’s what guilt does to you over time:
It keeps your nervous system activated. It prevents real rest. And slowly, quietly, it drains the very resource your clients need most: you.

A lawyer running on empty makes mistakes. Misses details. Loses perspective. Struggles to think clearly in high-stakes moments.

Guilt doesn’t protect your clients. It depletes the person fighting for them.
Rest isn’t a reward. It isn’t a luxury. It’s what keeps you sharp, present and effective... for the people who need you most, including yourself.

You cannot pour from an empty cup. And an empty cup helps no one.

So let me ask you this: what does that guilt do to you and how do you handle it?

📝 A day (and night) in the life of my immigration lawyer client.

Last night she couldn’t sleep. Her client’s daughter is the same age as hers. Same smile. Same backpack. Same age where friends are everything and school is your whole world. Except this girl doesn’t know if she’ll start the next school year. Or if she’ll have to say goodbye to every friend she’s made and start over in a country she’s never lived in. She doesn’t know if she’d be safe in the country of her parents, because of their political views.

My client lies there thinking: “What if that was my daughter?” And she can’t turn it off. Ruminating all night. By morning she’s already running on nothing. Short fuse. At work: no focus. Making mistakes because she’s exhausted, and terrified of making mistakes because the stakes are someone’s life.

How many nights this month have you lost to a case that came home with you? If you’d rather not answer that publicly, my DM is open. I get it.


Immigration Law │ Immigration Lawyer │ Mental Health At Work │ Burnout │ Vicarious Trauma

We need to stop telling immigration lawyers to “leave work at the office.”

It’s well-meaning advice. But it’s not realistic.

You can’t leave a case at the office when your client is a young gay man being deported to a country where his sexual orientation puts his life at risk.
You can’t switch off when the asylum seeker you’re representing has a child who is the same age as your own child.
You can’t create distance when you yourself have a migration background and your client’s fear reminds you of a fear you know all too well.

(Immigration) lawyers choose this work because they are empaths. Because they care. Because they want to change the course of people’s lives, and that makes them exceptional at what they do.

Of course cases like this will follow them. Into dinner. Into their relationships. Into bed at 3am.

Telling them to “let it go” is like telling someone to stop breathing.

What they actually need to hear: of course you can’t leave this at the office. Of course it hits you. You are not failing. It’s a human response to dire situations.

And let me assure you: you are not alone in this, but nobody is talking about it openly.
So let’s start.
I’d love to hear from you.