Despite the brief explanation of the person-centred approach on my website, I notice that clients often seem to understand that as a “hook” rather than a reality. This frequently shows up during our initial chat. As an AuDHD person myself, I fully appreciate the validation an expert’s advice provides. I spent my late teens and most of my twenties reading the experts’ books, such as Anthony Robbins’ Awaken the Giant Within, Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People, or one of my favorite books with easily applied “masking” instructions for me, How to Talk to Anyone by Leil Lowndes.
I was hungry to learn the “correct” way to be human. And I made it relatively far in my professional life before the corners of my “masks” started to crack. These books – and several others that act like an IKEA-esque instruction manual on how to build your life – still exist. I call this range of structural pieces “Lifskåfföltin.”
Joking aside though, it took me a long time to unlearn who I am not, and I am still learning to embrace everything that I really am. In essence, that is what therapy is: a tool to remove the bits that do not belong to the client, but rather hinder them. Any insights gained from therapy are just that – insights. They are not advice, they are not instructions, and they certainly do not come out of a manual (yes, I am throwing a bit of shade at CBT here).
Meeting as Equal Humans
This means I do not enter the therapeutic relationship as an expert. I meet you as a fellow human who has insecurities and who is often quite direct in their language. Going without my mask makes it easier for my clients to drop theirs.
From a neurodivergent, and to a point queer angle, this approach makes it easier to spot masking behavior. Our understanding of neurodivergent communication styles today shows that there is often a distinct mismatch between neurotypical and neurodivergent individuals. Take a neurodivergent client and place them with a neurodivergent therapist, and the communication is suddenly easier. That is the reason why – looking back at past friendships – many of my closest connections have been with others who, on reflection, display neurodivergent traits.
The Fear of the Unscripted Space
I am not saying that there is a “one size fits all” approach or that my preferred style of therapy is the only one out there – far from it. The other evening, I had an initial call with a potential client and I could tell from their reactions that they felt unsafe. There was a visible hyper-vigilance in the room from the start, which is completely understandable; they were selecting a person they are meant to share their deepest thoughts with.
They reacted with a high-pitched questioning to a statement I made about “safe ways to self-harm,” and noticed my smile when I realized I had to reorganize the structure of the initial call in my head so I didn’t repeat things unnecessarily. Because I didn’t come with a rigid script, it felt unpredictable to them.
During actual sessions, it can also feel “unsafe” at times when a hidden side of your personality shows up, or a reaction occurs that doesn’t fit in with what you are used to. Anyone who has ever said, “That is so unlike me,” has experienced a glimpse of this. Yet, this is actually the most important work we can do together. We are moving away from the perfect, away from the glossy, social media-esque filter, and meeting the real You.
The “Relational Sandbox”
Just because I have lived experience of one or more of a client’s perceived differences does not mean in any way that I know exactly what their experience looks like. There is a vital distinction between having empathy and assuming you have had the exact same experience.
Let’s assume a client owns the exact same pair of patent leather kitten heels that I own. Wearing those heels to work will have been a completely different experience for them than when I was wearing them to the office myself. I want to find out what their experience was like. Although I know exactly what the heels look like, everything else about their story will be entirely new to me.
And because I am just another human in the therapy room, I make mistakes or say things that might trigger a reaction. This gives us a unique opportunity to explore reactions and feelings – including those unwanted ones – in a safe and often playful way. Ultimately, the therapy room becomes a mirror of what is going on outside: the fears, the rejections, the power dynamics. The space must feel safe enough for these dynamics to be untangled and looked at. If I subconsciously take on the role of someone else in your life, even that can lead to profound insights later down the line.
Walking Alongside You
I will end here in the hope that the above makes sense and explains the inner workings of person-centred therapy a bit better. An openness to honesty is important, and it helps to accept that prejudice exists but is constantly being challenged.
To put it in one sentence: the client in therapy is not a problem to be “fixed.” Instead, I am simply grateful for the invitation to walk alongside them during our sessions, and it is a true privilege to witness so many different aspects of their journey.