Being Empathic: A Companion For Counsellors And... -

By the time Sarah left, the rain had turned to a drizzle. She wasn't "cured," but her knuckles were no longer white.

Instead of explaining the "mechanics of swimming," Leo simply nodded, letting the silence hold her words. He imagined himself standing in that water with her, not pulling her arm, but just holding a lantern so she wasn't alone in the dark. Being Empathic: a Companion for Counsellors and...

Late that afternoon, Sarah sat across from him. She didn't speak at first. She just gripped her bag, her knuckles white, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit from her own skin. By the time Sarah left, the rain had turned to a drizzle

The rain drummed a steady, rhythmic beat against the window of Leo’s small practice. On his desk sat a well-worn copy of It wasn't just a textbook to him; it was a map he consulted when the fog of other people’s pain became too thick to see through. He imagined himself standing in that water with

Leo felt that familiar pull—the urge to jump in with a solution, to offer a "fix" that would smooth over her trembling hands. But the core lesson of his "companion" echoed in his mind:

He took a breath, anchoring himself in his chair. He didn't mirror her anxiety; he provided a container for it.

As the session went on, the "companion" in Leo’s mind reminded him to check his own boundaries. To be meant feeling with her, not becoming her. He felt the weight of her grief, but he kept his feet on the rug of his office. This balance allowed him to stay steady enough to guide her.