He took a breath, anchoring himself in his chair. He didn't mirror her anxiety; he provided a container for it.
By the time Sarah left, the rain had turned to a drizzle. She wasn't "cured," but her knuckles were no longer white. Being Empathic: a Companion for Counsellors and...
Leo looked back at the book on his desk. He realized that being a companion to his clients required him to first be a companion to himself—to understand his own capacity for feeling so that he could keep the door open for others. He took a breath, anchoring himself in his chair
"It feels like everything is moving too fast to catch, doesn't it?" Leo said softly. 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.
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.
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.