How therapist presence is one of the most important elements of somatic psychotherapy.
Blah blah blah
I’m sitting with a client and realize my thoughts have drifted and I have no idea what she just said. I’m tuning out because she is telling a story about her distress, but I don’t feel connected to her at all.
It’s like she could be talking to anyone, or even the wall. It’s hard to get a word in edgewise, and there’s a sense that even though there is a lot of emotion behind what she is saying, she’s very cut off from it.
I like this client. But I have a really hard time staying present and engaged with her. It’s really challenging to find ways to help her shift from storytelling and intellectualizing to a more engaged, mindful, or relational way of sharing. And it can feel nearly impossible introduce mind-body awareness or offer somatic interventions.
A moment of opportunity
Catching myself drifting off is an important moment. It’s an opportunity to reset and ask myself what I need to be present and get creative. This can feel really difficult at times, especially when I find myself dreading the session and thinking “oh, this is going to be a loooong session”. But if I start with self-compassion, I recognize that all I have to do is start paying attention with curiosity.
I have developed a strong belief that patience and curiosity are two of the most powerful qualities I can have as a somatic therapist. And the first place I need to direct them is toward myself. If I can recognize that I’m struggling in the moment and bring some kindness to that, I can settle in for the ride a little, or even a lot, better.
I have a toolbox full of resources that help me tend to myself as a therapist that I have developed over the years. I have breath and mindfulness practices to refocus. I use the imagery of deep tree roots that ground me when sessions feel tedious. I make intentional use of somatic countertransference to guide the process. I have confidence that I can rely on the skills I have cultivated.
Once I start listening to my own experience in the moment, I can attend to my client differently. I observe without having an agenda, and I remember that I truly do trust the process.
What happens in therapy
I start being aware of the “story under the story”, the themes, the body language, the indicators of the emotions. I start looking for opportunities to pause the narrative, to bring more mindful awareness to the moment, to offer the invitation to slow things down so that we can really give them meaningful attention.
My client may or may not respond to my interventions. At least not the way I might hope. But that’s okay. If I can stay connected to patience and curiosity, I can remain more present and available. This means that instead of drifting off and going through the motions, I can catch the windows of opportunity when they open just a crack, whether they appear during the current session or somewhere down the road.
Sometimes we make a tiny dent in the work. The client becomes a little more aware of how they might be stuck in a certain narrative about themselves or they might have a moment of relief from feeling the pressure that goes along with it. Or they may have a sense that something could change. Maybe they just feel seen and heard a little bit more by me. Other times I am surprised at how far we can move in a session.
From stuck to empowered, a client story
Recently I was working with someone who was feeling like she easily gets sucked into relational drama over and over, particularly with a certain friend. The session started off feeling like a lot of familiar disconnected storytelling. When I caught myself beginning to disengage I kindly but firmly asked myself to shift gears and get curious.
I started paying attention to her gestures and noticed her hands raising as though she was trying to push something away. These movements were very small at first and I was distracted by the intensity of her talking. But I waited for opportunities to gently interrupt. We were able to slow down a bit, and I was able to help her notice the gestures she was making.
Together we noticed that my client’s hand movements reflected her desire to make space and set boundaries. She was open to exploring these themes somatically. We spent the rest of the session focused on discovering what it was like to say no with her voice, her movement, and her whole body.
We practiced turning and walking away. We practiced pushing things away. We practiced taking space for herself and feeling what it was like to be free from being crowded by other people’s drama. The energy level in the room changed. She was excited and full of new ideas. We celebrated her going from feeling stuck in an endless cycle to feeling alive and empowered.
If there was one thing about being a somatic psychotherapist that I’d like you to take away from this story and this essay, it’s this:
Our presence is far more important than any of our theories or techniques.
Our presence, patience and curiosity help us to be creative, trust the process, meet our clients where they are, and collaborate with them. It also helps us access the training and experience we have already integrated and use it more effectively.
I’d love to hear how presence, patience or curiosity have supported your work as a therapist. Share a comment, join the chat, or reach out to me.