Holding Yourself with Compassion in Child and Family Work
Every now and then, I have a moment in a play therapy or supervision session where I can feel that it isn’t just me and the other person in the room.
Alongside the work happening in front of me, I can feel that something in me has been stirred too. A younger part. A grieving part. A protective part. A traumatised part. A part of me that recognises something in what is unfolding.
If you do this work with children and families, I imagine you may know this feeling too.
There have been times in my own practice when 4-year-old Ashleigh has felt close. Times when grief has felt close. Times when traumatised parts of me have come nearer because something in the room has resinated with my own story.
I remember one session with a young child and parent where the child was expressing terror and helplessness through play. As I sat there, I could feel my own traumatised parts becoming present. I noticed an urge to step in quickly. To stop the play. To protect. To move the session away from what felt hard.
Instead of reacting from that place, I took a breath.
I steadied myself enough to stay with what was happening. I moved gently toward the discomfort rather than away from it, and I spoke with care and curiosity about the fear that seemed to be in the room.
That moment has stayed with me, because it reminded me of something important.
Part of being a therapist is not just learning how to hold the child or the parent. It is also learning how to hold ourselves in the work.
Honestly, I don’t think that comes naturally for most of us.
It is something we learn over time. Slowly. In supervision. In reflection. In our own therapy. In the moments where we notice ourselves being pulled, activated, protective, overwhelmed, or tender, and we choose to meet that with awareness rather than shame.
In this blog post I wanted to share three gentle ways to work with the parts of yourself that might show up in the therapy room.
Not so you never feel affected by the work, but so you can stay grounded in it.
So you can practice in a way that is trauma responsive, sustainable, and compassionate toward both your clients and yourself.
1. Start with awareness
I think one of the most important things we can remember is that children and families do not only experience our interventions.
They experience us.
They experience our presence, our nervous system, our pace, our warmth, our boundaries, our ability to stay with them, and sometimes our struggle to stay with them. I share more about this in my blog post about the impacts of Culture, Gender and History has on our practice.
That is why awareness matters so much.
When something gets stirred in us, it may show up as a strong emotional response. It may show up as an urge to rescue, to fix, to shut something down, to move away from a topic, or to overprotect. Sometimes it looks like suddenly feeling frozen, confused, irritated, overly responsible, or unexpectedly emotional.
These moments do not mean you are doing bad work.
Often, they are invitations to become more curious about yourself.
What is this moment touching in me?
What feels familiar here?
What part of me has come closer?
What am I feeling pulled to do?
This is part of reflective practice. It is also part of trauma-informed and trauma-responsive practice.
The more we understand ourselves, the more choice we have in how we respond.
Building this kind of awareness might happen through journaling after sessions, through supervision, through your own therapy, or simply through pausing long enough to notice what is happening in your body and emotions.
Awareness is where so much of this work begins.
Supervision Topic Tracker
Need a space to capture and contain these thoughts and reflections before supervision? Download a copy of my free Supervision Topic Tracker
2. Acknowledge what is there
Once you notice that a part of you is present, the next step is not to push it away.
It is to acknowledge it.
Quietly. Gently. Without judgement.
Sometimes an activated part of us just needs to be noticed. Not indulged. Not handed control of the session. Just noticed.
There is something powerful about being able to say to yourself, even silently:
I know you’re here.
I can feel that this is touching something important.
Right now, I need to stay here with this child or family.
I’ll come back to you when I have the space.
I really value this kind of inner acknowledgement because it creates a relationship with ourselves that is compassionate rather than harsh.
So many of us have learned to override ourselves in helping professions. To keep going. To stay composed. To minimise what is happening internally. When we ignore our own internal responses completely, they often find other ways to show up.
They can show up in the form of urgency. Reactivity. Over-functioning. Defensiveness. Emotional exhaustion. Or interventions that are more about soothing our own discomfort than staying with the client’s process.
Acknowledgement helps create a pause.
That pause gives us more room to respond thoughtfully, rather than react from whatever part of us has been activated.
Then, after the session, it matters that we come back and make good on that promise to ourselves.
That might look like a few quiet notes in your journal. Bringing it to supervision. Going for a walk. Sitting in stillness. Crying. Debriefing. Praying. Resting. Letting yourself feel what was stirred.
Acknowledgement in the session is important, but so is care afterwards.
3. Protect the parts of you that need protecting
Some parts of us carry pain, trauma, fear, grief, or vulnerability.
These might be younger parts of us. They might be adult parts carrying old wounds. Sometimes, those parts do not need to be fully exposed to the content we hold in this work.
I think this is something we do not talk about enough.
Not every part of us needs to come into the therapy room.
Not every part of us is meant to be on the frontline of this work.
Sometimes what is needed is protection.
One practice that can be helpful is visualisation.
Before a session, or when you notice something being stirred, you might imagine taking a vulnerable part of yourself somewhere safe. A quiet room. A warm home. A garden. Somewhere calm, steady, and protected. You might imagine that part being looked after while you work.
You might also imagine calling forward the parts of yourself you most need in the room. Your grounded adult self. Your therapist self. Your wise, compassionate, steady self. The part of you that can stay present without becoming overwhelmed.
This is not about denying your vulnerability.
It is about caring for it.
It is about recognising that your own inner world deserves tenderness too.
When we learn how to protect the parts of ourselves that need care, we make this work more sustainable.
This is part of sustainable practice
I think sometimes we imagine practitioner wellbeing as something separate from the therapy room. Something we attend to after the fact. On the weekend. On leave. Once we are already tired.
But so much of practitioner wellbeing is shaped in the moment.
In how we notice ourselves.
In how we respond to our own activation.
In how we relate to the parts of us that get stirred by the work.
In whether we meet those parts with shame, or with compassion.
This is not about becoming perfectly neutral or untouched by the stories in front of us.
I do not think that is the goal.
The goal is not to feel nothing.
The goal is to know ourselves well enough that when something does get stirred, we can stay present, reflective, ethical, and kind.
For those of us who care deeply about children and families, it is also part of protecting our capacity to keep showing up over time.
I invite you to take a few moments this week, either on your own or in supervision, to reflect on these questions:
What tends to get stirred in me during sessions?
What kinds of stories or dynamics feel especially close to home?
How do I know when a younger, grieving, fearful, or protective part of me is present?
What helps me stay grounded enough to remain with the client?
What would it look like to offer those parts of myself more compassion and protection?
These are not small questions, but they are important ones because the work is not only about how we hold others. It is also about how we learn to hold ourselves.
The power of reflective supervision
This is one of the reasons supervision can be so valuable. It gives us a place to reflect on what gets stirred in the room, deepen self-awareness, and keep growing into the kind of therapist we want to be.
If this blog post has stirred something in you, 1:1 supervision may be a supportive next step. Sometimes the parts of ourselves that show up in the therapy room need a space that feels steady, thoughtful and confidential, where you can slow down, reflect, and make sense of what the work is bringing up for you.
Supervision can help you deepen your self-awareness, strengthen your capacity to stay grounded in complex moments, and continue growing in a way that feels sustainable and compassionate. If that feels like something you’re needing right now, I’d love to support you. You’re welcome to reply to this email or book a 15-minute phone conversation to explore whether 1:1 supervision might be the right fit for you.
Until next time, take care.
Ashleigh
