Being With, Not Guiding Through
Reframing therapeutic presence in the treatment of complex and dissociative trauma
🌿 When You Don’t Need to Do Anything
There are moments in therapy when doing less is actually what makes the most room for healing. But that can be hard to trust—especially for those of us trained to notice patterns, name dynamics, or gently guide the process forward. We’re used to thinking our impact comes from what we offer, not from what we withhold.
Still, some of the most powerful sessions I’ve ever witnessed weren’t defined by insights or interventions. They were held by presence—by a kind of stillness that didn’t flinch or lean in, didn’t interpret or respond, didn’t hurry. A presence that said: You don’t have to move just to stay worthy of my attention.
Clients with complex trauma often carry an exquisitely attuned radar for pressure. Even when no words are spoken, they can feel the current beneath our silence. They can sense when curiosity is pulling, even gently, at something they’re not ready to give. Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do isn’t to guide someone forward—it’s to help them rest exactly where they are.
The Tension Between Knowing and Holding
It’s easy to forget how much effort it takes for many clients to simply stay in the room. To stay in their body. To not flee internally when vulnerability even flirts with the edge of awareness.
As therapists, we might feel the pull to interpret the silence or steer the conversation back on course. But sometimes, that impulse is more about soothing our discomfort than theirs. Being with someone who is shut down or nonverbal can feel like being lost without a map—and in a profession where being effective often feels like offering direction, that’s unsettling.
But when we stop needing the moment to resolve, something else becomes possible. We begin to meet the client where they are, rather than where we hoped they’d be by now. And from that place, healing has room to arrive on its own terms.
Settling Isn’t Stagnation
It’s easy to mistake stillness for being stuck. But there’s a quiet kind of progress that happens beneath the surface—when the nervous system learns that stillness doesn’t always mean danger is coming, when the body experiments with resting in someone’s presence without having to perform.
That kind of safety builds slowly. Layer by layer. And it doesn’t need interpretation to be meaningful. It only needs to be met.
For some clients, especially those with complex trauma or dissociative experiences, this kind of relational safety may be the most profound work we ever do. Not because we solved anything. But because we didn’t rush past what their system had never been given the chance to feel before.
Practicing Presence: A Guide for Therapists
Holding space without rushing to intervene can feel counterintuitive, especially when we’re trained to guide clients toward insight or resolution. But practicing presence is a skill that can be cultivated. Here are a few ways to start:
Ground Yourself First: Before entering the session, take a moment to check in with your own body. Are you carrying tension? Are you holding an expectation for how the session “should” go? A few deep breaths or a grounding exercise can help you settle into the moment.
Notice the Urge to Fix: Pay attention to the moments when you feel the pull to interpret silence or redirect the conversation. Ask yourself: “Is this about my discomfort, or is it what the client truly needs right now?” Sometimes, the most compassionate response is to simply stay with what’s unfolding.
Use Gentle Reflection: If the silence feels heavy or unclear, you can reflect back what you’re noticing in a non-intrusive way. For example:
“It feels like there’s a lot here that doesn’t need words right now.”
“I’m here with you, and we don’t have to rush this.”
Anchor in the Present Moment: For clients who may dissociate or feel overwhelmed, anchoring them in the present can be helpful. This doesn’t mean steering them away from their experience but gently reminding them of the safety in the here and now. You might say:
“Take your time. You’re safe in this room, and we can stay right here.”
Trust the Process: Healing doesn’t always look like movement. Remind yourself that stillness is not stagnation, and that your presence is enough. Trust that the client’s system will guide them forward when they’re ready.
A Glimpse Ahead
In a few days, I’ll be sharing more about what this kind of presence looks like in practice—especially when clients resist the treatment plan or don’t respond the way we expect.
There will also be a quiet companion piece for paid subscribers: The Stillness That Sees, a printable reflection page with journal prompts and a poem created for the therapists who offer more than they realize just by staying steady.
But for now, maybe this is enough:
You don’t have to know what to say.
You don’t have to move the process forward.
Sometimes, your presence is the intervention.