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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. Being Empathic: a Companion for Counsellors and...
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: Instead of explaining the "mechanics of swimming," Leo
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. On his desk sat a well-worn copy of
He took a breath, anchoring himself in his chair. He didn't mirror her anxiety; he provided a container for it.
Sarah’s shoulders dropped an inch. "I feel like I'm screaming underwater," she whispered. "Everyone tells me to just swim to the surface, but I don't know which way is up."