Holding Space

A Glimpse into the Work of Therapy

The other day, one of my clients was sitting outside in the light drizzle, connecting with a younger part of herself who loved the rain. And in my heart, I felt so much resonance because I love the rain too. Maybe it’s because I spent part of my childhood in Germany, where gloomy, wet days were the norm. Something about them still brings me a deep sense of joy and comfort.

Most of my day is spent in my office chair, seeing clients through a screen. And while we may not share the same physical space, I often feel profoundly connected to the person on the other side. I rarely put words to this. I'm careful not to take away from their time, but every day, I find myself in awe of the beauty of the human being sitting with me.

When I say “beauty,” I mean the strength, resilience, courage, honesty, sensitivity, and kindness that I get to witness. The list could go on. But bottom line: most people come to therapy to face something difficult and often scary. And I get to watch them show up and face it. That, to me, is incredibly beautiful.

Holding space is a curious thing. When I was a younger therapist, I used to worry about not knowing what to say, even though I was supposed to be the expert. Over the years, I’ve taken countless courses and sat under the guidance of brilliant mentors. And while knowledge helps, I’ve learned that my clients are the experts of their own inner worlds.

My role isn’t to have all the answers. It’s to bring insight, offer tools and reflections, and stay present and engaged as we explore what feels meaningful and true for them. There’s often uncertainty in the process, but I no longer worry in that space. I've come to trust it. With enough safety and support, people begin to access the deeper wisdom within themselves, and that’s where healing takes root.

Juliane Taylor Shore, one of my favorite teachers and mentors, speaks about the “of course-ness” of a client’s experience. Rather than focusing on what someone should be doing, she invites us to trust that their thoughts, behaviors, and responses make sense in the context of how they’ve learned to cope or adapt. There’s always a reason. And that shift allows me to meet people with curiosity instead of judgment.

This post is simply a small window into what it’s like to sit in the therapist chair. It is such a privilege to be invited into someone’s healing process, to witness their courage and complexity and tenderness.

Newer clients sometimes wonder what I must be thinking about them. So I thought I’d share what often goes on inside me.
A quiet awe.

And sometimes, like the other day, a moment of shared recognition. Two people who love the rain, holding space for something tender to emerge.