The heart of therapy: presence over perfect words
What is it that I bring to therapy?
It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt the pull to write. A quiet erosion of confidence and a subtle disconnection from my voice had settled in over the months. Today, I found myself sitting with a familiar question: What is it that I truly offer to the therapeutic field? I brought this reflection to my supervisor.
aging as a therapist
We spent time together musing on what it means to age as therapists, how the texture of our work shifts as we grow older. We so often invite our clients into a space of radical acceptance, for themselves. But I found myself wondering, what does it mean to offer that same invitation inward, toward my own aging self?
In these menopausal years, I’ve noticed changes. The clarity I once had when articulating my thoughts doesn’t always come as swiftly. The words are still there. I feel them within me. But they don’t always rise with ease to meet the moment.
I return in memory to my family of origin. In that space, value was placed on those who could speak with certainty, who could hold a room with unshakable conviction. There wasn’t room for uncertainty. Those who questioned or hesitated often found themselves silenced or worse.
So I learned early that speaking belonged to the powerful. And that speaking could be unsafe.
I offer a refuge
But the space I offer now as a therapist is something very different. My practice has become a refuge, a gentle, grounded place where vulnerability is welcome. A space where thoughts don’t need to arrive fully formed to be honoured. Where the protective layers of the psyche are respected and never rushed.
Today, with my supervisor, I was met in that same spirit. I found a place where it was safe to not know. To be a little messy in my thinking. To feel my way through, slowly, back toward myself.
Therapy - an embodied experience
People often ask what it is I do as a psychotherapist. I find it a challenging question to answer. For me, therapy is not an intellectual pursuit. It is an embodied experience, one that unfolds quietly and intimately. Our stories live in our bodies, and it’s in that deeper listening that they begin to emerge.
The work happens in relationship, where my clients are seen and met in the fullness of who they are. And in that meeting, they begin to discover a more compassionate relationship with themselves.
So when I try to answer the “what do I do as a psychotherapist” question from my mind alone, something essential is lost.
presence
What I offer, and have always offered, is my presence. A willingness to sit beside someone, open and attuned. A place of radical acceptance.
And more and more, I’m coming to see, with or without the words on the tip of my tongue, this really is enough.
It is through connection we heal, so please stay in touch.
Love Sarah xx
