This month, I want to share a deeply personal and powerful aspect of how I connect with my clients: through a somatic way of resonating with their experience. This isn’t a technique I consciously deploy, but rather a capacity I’ve developed over time – an ability to attune to a client’s state that I describe as experiencing a ‘felt sense’ of their world within my own body. This intuitive connection feels like a fundamental part of my therapeutic presence. It may be influenced by how I process sensory information. It has certainly been cultivated through my regular yoga practice. Yoga has helped me build physical and emotional self-awareness. It has also helped me understand the link between bodily sensations and emotions.

The accuracy of this ‘felt sense’ is most often validated by the feedback I receive from clients. For instance, when a client recounts a deeply sad experience, like the loss of a parent, but speaks without apparent emotional expression, I might notice a heavy sensation. I may feel a constrained feeling or a sense of pressure in my own chest. When I gently share this physical sensation with the client and they confirm experiencing something similar, it can unlock profound insight. Our bodies are, after all, holding places of our lived experiences. My describing a physical feeling can sometimes offer a pathway for the client to access their own associated emotions through their bodily awareness.

My understanding of this process was deepened recently during training on vicarious trauma by Babette Rothschild. It introduced the concept of therapists unconsciously attuning to clients’ physical states by mirroring facial expressions, breathing patterns, and posture. This attunement, while a foundation for empathy, requires conscious management. The training highlighted the importance of deliberately ‘unmirroring’ these physical states as a way to regulate empathy and prevent burnout. I recognise that my yoga practice serves this exact purpose, fostering a mindful self-awareness that acts as an ’empathy dial,’ helping me to distinguish my own sensations from those I’m resonating with in the client.

I recall a particularly impactful experience during my training when I worked with a teenage trans feminine client who was on the lengthy NHS waiting list for assessment for physical care. Her sessions were often charged with the pain and struggle of living in a body that felt profoundly wrong, a deep dissatisfaction with physical characteristics that didn’t align with her gender identity. The distress caused by this incongruence, amplified by the lack of access to timely medical support, was immense. My role was primarily to witness her pain – the anger, hopelessness, and isolation she felt. To truly hold space for her, I needed to grasp the depth of her experience, and through that somatic attunement, I did.

Holding that space, and helping her connect with her own emotions amidst the distress, frustration, and fear, making sense of deeply destructive fantasies, was often all that was therapeutically possible at that time, and importantly, it was enough. Being newer to embodied empathy then, I was sometimes surprised by the intensity of the connection. During the first couple of sessions with this client, I felt remnants of her discomfort lingering with me afterwards. I experienced what I would describe as a deep, unsettling sensation. It was like the feeling I sometimes get before coming down with the flu. It was a sense of wanting to ‘crawl out of my skin,’ as if my very being was vibrating with discomfort. As often happens, a single yoga practice helped restore my body’s state to its equilibrium. However, the initial surprise at this physical resonance stayed with me. With practice and increased self-awareness, I am now much better at leaving my clients’ physical (as well as emotional) states behind after sessions.

I believe this ability to ‘focus’ myself into a deep attunement is fundamental to genuine empathy. After years of practice, client feedback, and observing positive therapeutic shifts, I see this as a unique, less traditional, but powerful form of presence in sessions. It allows for deep empathetic connection, which, as person-centred theory highlights, is one of the core conditions necessary for therapeutic change. The therapist’s capacity to sense the client’s private world as if it were their own, while crucially never losing that ‘as if’ quality, is paramount. Differentiating my own somatic experience from the client’s is vital. I constantly check in and clarify during sessions. For example, I may say, “As you speak about that, I’m noticing a tightness in my shoulders. What kind of sensations do you experience?”

I personally find immense value in witnessing a client access their emotions and gain insight through something initially unspoken or pre-verbal. Often, intellectual labelling can sometimes distance us from the raw essence of an experience. While there isn’t a manual for using the therapist’s body as an instrument of perception in this way, I haven’t encountered guidance that discourages it, provided it’s managed ethically and safely.

The key is careful discernment. When I experience a physical sensation – be it tension, pain, or another bodily reaction linked to the client’s material – I manage this carefully. When I share such a sensation and it resonates with the client, it often builds trust; the client feels seen, accepted, and less afraid to approach difficult feelings. At other times, I might feel sadness or anxiety, recognising it as my own reaction to the client’s lived experience. This distinction is crucial and something I continually monitor. My reaction, when shared appropriately and with clear ownership (“I am feeling a sense of sadness here”), can sometimes help normalise feelings the client might have previously suppressed.

As I write this, I’m aware that this process isn’t a neat procedure. Much of it happens in the moment, unplanned. However, when applied authentically and genuinely, the consistent outcome is that clients report feeling deeply ‘felt’ and understood in a way that goes beyond words. It is absolutely crucial that I do not project my own feelings or bodily tensions onto the client’s experience. This is why validation and checking in are paramount. It’s also essential to differentiate my own discomfort from the client’s experience. Internalised biases, perhaps triggered by complex issues like mis-gendering or trauma, should also be recognized separately. Early on, I was mindful of the potential for ‘somatic countertransference,’ and I consistently bring these experiences to supervision, which is vital for ethical practice. I offer my sensations as potential resonances. These are always framed tentatively and client-centred. This approach doesn’t replace traditional empathy. Instead, it enriches it. This deepens the therapeutic connection while always prioritising the client’s own awareness and narrative.

My Conclusion:

Working with clients at this deep, embodied level allows access to the unspoken language of experience held within the body. It requires ongoing self-awareness, careful differentiation, and robust supervision. While the path to healing and self-discovery is uniquely the client’s, being able to meet them with this authentic, resonating presence fosters a profound sense of being seen and understood. This embodied connection, particularly for clients facing immense systemic barriers or ineffable pain like that caused by gender dysphoria on long waiting lists, can be a powerful catalyst for processing difficult emotions, building resilience, and affirming their reality when external validation is scarce. It underscores the transformative potential of the therapeutic relationship when we listen not just with our ears, but with our whole being.