A guest blog by Dr Linda Nicholson
As an ACT clinician and co-author of the SHAPE model for Contextual Behavioural Science, I’ve always seen supervision as a space to explore not just what clinicians do, but how they relate -to their clients, to the unknown, and to their own inner experience.
What follows is an account of working with a supervisee across two sessions as they moved through a significant rupture with a client. I’m sharing it not to offer a tidy lesson or a cautionary tale, but because I think there’s something honest and useful in sitting with a story that doesn’t resolve cleanly.
The context: a relationship under strain
My supervisee had been working with this client for nine months. They described a positive working relationship, with meaningful progress in skills-building and rapport. Then, over the final three or four sessions, something shifted. The client, who was naturally quite verbal, began responding to the supervisee’s questions and reflections with an edge. Guardedness. Irritation. Something harder to name. The supervisee noticed themselves changing too. They slipped into unhelpful patterns: avoiding interrupting the client, letting the client dominate the conversation, and feeling a growing sense of anxiety about how to respond.
In our first supervision session about this client, the supervisee shared their confusion, identifying that the sessions did not seem ‘helpful’, they did not understand what had changed, and they were unsure why the client seemed annoyed at them. That confusion, and what it stirred up for them, became the heart of our work together.
The turning point: rupture and reflection
By the second supervision session involving discussion about this client, the therapeutic relationship had reached a critical juncture. The client informed the supervisee just 10 minutes before their session that they no longer wanted to work with them. During their final session, the client shared two things:
- They no longer trusted the supervisee, citing an instance where they believed the supervisee had “eye-rolled” at them in the last session they had.
- They corrected the supervisee’s recollection of a previous conversation, which left the supervisee feeling confused.
The supervisee was taken aback. “I don’t remember rolling my eyes,” they told me. We surmised that they were just thinking in that moment. What hurt most, perhaps, was the sense that nine months of relationship had fractured over something that felt, from the supervisee’s side, so unclear and deteriorated rapidly. And with the client choosing to end, there was no longer an obvious path to repair.
Supervision as a space for exploration
Instead of focusing on dissecting where things went wrong or identifying steps to prevent it from happening again, we leaned into the principles of ACT and the SHAPE model:
- Holding stories lightly: We explored the supervisee’s urge to find certainty or “fix” the situation. What if, instead of trying to control the client’s reactions, we focused on their own experience in the room? What if the goal wasn’t to avoid rupture, but to meet it with openness and curiosity?
- Function over form: The supervisee’s avoidance wasn’t just about letting the client talk; it was rooted in a deeper fear of conflict and their own anxiety. They described feeling physically tense during sessions, worrying that any attempt to redirect the conversation might provoke the client further. This avoidance provided short-term relief from anxiety but acted to create a barrier to authentic connection.
- Experiential work: Rather than analysing the “truth” of what happened, we turned inward. What sensations, thoughts, and emotions arose for the supervisee during sessions? How might these experiences offer clues about what needed attention in the therapeutic relationship?
I shared my own experiences of navigating relational challenges with clients, including moments where naming the tension opened something up, and moments where it didn’t. Not as a model to follow, but to make it easier for the supervisee to be honest about what had been hard. My intention was to normalise the supervisee’s experience, model a stance of curiosity rather than judgment, and be vulnerable with my own experiences related to ruptures and repairs.
The gift of uncertainty
The supervisee didn’t leave with a clear “answer” as to what steps to take if a rupture occurs and how to repair this, but they did leave with something I think is more durable: a willingness to stay curious in the face of not knowing. They reflected on opportunities whereby connecting with their own experiences in session could provide a cue to check in with their client, to explore with the client what might be happening, to offer a reflection and be curious as to how the client experienced their words.
We didn’t explicitly discuss values, but we lived them:
- Acceptance: Acknowledging the discomfort of not knowing.
- Presence: Noticing the urge to avoid and choosing to stay curious instead.
- Compassion: Recognising that both the supervisee and the client were navigating a complex dynamic, each doing the best they could.
These weren’t scripts. They were examples of what it looks like to stay present and connected when things feel uncertain.
Without ever naming it directly, we lived something close to the values that underpin this work: sitting with discomfort rather than resolving it prematurely; noticing the impulse to withdraw and choosing curiosity instead; holding both the supervisee and the client with genuine compassion. For example:
- “I’ve noticed we might be talking past each other. I wonder if we could pause and check in about how this feels for you?”
- “I’m aware I might have given a different impression than I intended. Can we talk about that?”
The supervisee left with a shift in perspective: The goal isn’t to prevent rupture, but to meet it with openness and a willingness to learn.
Lessons for supervisors and clinicians
- Rupture as an opportunity: Relational challenges are inevitable, but they are also rich with information. The SHAPE model reminds us that these moments can deepen our understanding of both the client’s and clinician’s internal worlds.
- Hold stories lightly: Our narratives about “what went wrong” are just stories. The supervisee’s reflection (“I was so focused on avoiding conflict, I stopped listening to myself”) highlighted how clinging to certainty can obscure what’s really happening.
- Model curiosity: As supervisors, our role isn’t to provide answers but to create a space where supervisees can explore their experiences with compassion and curiosity.
Conclusion: the courage to not know
This journey between the supervisee and client didn’t end neatly. The client chose to work with someone else, and the supervisee was left with unresolved questions. But in embracing uncertainty, through the process of supervision we identified something important: Supervision does not have to be about ‘having the answers’. It’s about helping clinicians meet their edges with compassion, curiosity, and a willingness to learn.
For me, this story is a reminder of why I love this work. In the messy, uncertain spaces, we find the most meaningful opportunities for growth, for our supervisees, our clients, and ourselves.
Reflection question for readers:
Where do you notice yourself seeking certainty in your work with clients or supervisees? What might happen if you held that story a little more lightly?