Therapists, being human, sometimes have strong reactions to clients. This article explores how to understand and utilise those reactions for the benefit of the client, the therapist, and the therapeutic alliance.
Related articles: Managing High-Intensity Emotions in Therapy, Making the Invisible Visible: How Peer Consultation Helps Us Discover Our Clinical Edges of Awareness, Parallel Process: Burden, Blessing, or Clinical Signal?
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Introduction
Every therapist has had the experience. You glance at your diary before the day begins and notice your 2 p.m. appointment. To your surprise, your immediate thought is, I really don’t feel like seeing this client today.
Almost as quickly as the thought appears, another follows close behind. What kind of therapist thinks that? For many clinicians, the emotional reaction itself lasts only a moment. The self-judgment that follows often lasts much longer. Yet perhaps the more interesting question is not why the thought appeared, but why we assume it should never have appeared at all.
Therapists are human beings before they are therapists. We spend our working lives listening to stories of grief, trauma, conflict, despair, hope, resilience, and profound vulnerability. We enter deeply relational conversations in which our own emotions, values, histories, and personalities inevitably become part of the therapeutic encounter. It would be remarkable if this work didn’t affect us emotionally. The question, then, is not whether therapists should have emotional reactions. The question is what those reactions might be telling us.
The dashboard of our emotional life
Perhaps it is helpful to imagine the therapist’s emotional life as the dashboard of a car. Most of the time, the dashboard fades quietly into the background while we focus on the road ahead. Occasionally, however, a light appears. It might be irritation. Protectiveness. Hopelessness. A sudden urge to rescue a client from their suffering. A subtle reluctance to begin the next session. These lights are easy to misinterpret. We often assume they represent personal shortcomings or professional failures.
More often, they are simply information. Like any dashboard indicator, they are invitations rather than accusations. Some reflect something happening within us. Others reflect something unfolding within the therapeutic relationship. Still others may point towards the client’s relational world and the ways in which it is beginning to emerge in the consulting room. Before we decide what the light means, we first need to notice that it has appeared.
This shift in perspective changes everything. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?”, we begin asking, “Isn’t that interesting? I wonder what this reaction might be pointing towards?” That small movement – from judgment to curiosity – lies at the heart of reflective practice. It transforms emotional reactions from experiences to suppress into opportunities for deeper clinical understanding. Far from undermining effective therapy, thoughtful awareness of our own internal responses can become one of the richest sources of information available to us (Bennett-Levy, 2005; Schön, 1983).
Strong reactions are data – not verdicts
One of the greatest misconceptions about therapists’ emotional reactions is the belief that they should disappear with sufficient experience. Many clinicians quietly hope that, after enough years of practice, they will no longer feel irritated, anxious, overprotective, discouraged, or unexpectedly moved by particular clients.
Experience tells a different story. What often changes is not the presence of emotional reactions but the way experienced therapists respond to them. Rather than treating them as evidence of incompetence, they gradually learn to regard them as data requiring thoughtful interpretation.
Psychodynamic therapists have traditionally used the term countertransference to describe the therapist’s emotional responses within the therapeutic relationship. Although the concept originated within psychoanalytic thinking, contemporary psychotherapy recognises that therapists’ internal experiences can provide valuable clinical information across a wide range of therapeutic approaches (Gelso & Hayes, 2007; Hayes et al., 2018).
Emotional patterns echo
Similarly, concepts such as parallel process remind us that emotional patterns can sometimes echo across different relationships. A therapist who suddenly feels unusually helpless, overwhelmed, or responsible may be experiencing something that offers important clues about how the client relates to other significant people in their life. Equally, the reaction may reflect aspects of the therapist’s own history, current circumstances, or values. More commonly still, it reflects some combination of all three.
This is precisely why emotional reactions deserve curiosity before interpretation. Mentalisation – the capacity to reflect upon our own minds and the minds of others – offers a helpful framework here. Rather than immediately acting upon our emotional responses or dismissing them as irrelevant, mentalisation encourages us to pause long enough to wonder what they might mean (Allen et al., 2008; Bateman & Fonagy, 2019).
The distinction is subtle but important.
- Feeling irritated does not necessarily mean that a client is “difficult.”
- Feeling protective does not necessarily mean that a client needs rescuing.
- Feeling unusually hopeful does not necessarily mean that therapy is progressing exceptionally well.
Nor does feeling discouraged necessarily mean that therapy is failing. Emotional reactions are observations before they become conclusions. Like any other clinical observation, they require context, reflection, and corroboration before they can meaningfully inform our understanding of what is happening in the room.
Perhaps one of the most helpful habits therapists can cultivate is replacing immediate self-evaluation with gentle curiosity. Instead of thinking, “I shouldn’t feel this,” we might simply notice the dashboard light has illuminated and say to ourselves, “That’s interesting.” Those two words create space.
- Space to regulate before reacting.
- Space to reflect before concluding.
- Space to distinguish between feeling something and knowing what that feeling means.
That space is where clinical wisdom often begins (Bennett-Levy, 2005; Schön, 1983).
The therapist’s decoder: One signal, many possible stories
If emotional reactions are sources of information rather than verdicts on our competence, the next question seems obvious: What is this reaction trying to tell me? The difficulty is that emotions rarely arrive with explanatory notes attached. Two therapists may experience exactly the same feeling with two very different clients, yet the meaning of that reaction may be entirely different in each situation. Equally, two different emotional responses to the same client may each contain valuable information. Human relationships are rarely that straightforward.
This is why experienced therapists become cautious about interpreting their emotional responses too quickly. Rather than assuming that a particular feeling has a single explanation, they learn to hold several possibilities in mind at once. The dashboard light simply tells us that something deserves our attention. It does not tell us exactly what that something is.
The purpose of a therapist’s “decoder”, then, is not to provide definitive answers but to stimulate thoughtful questions. The possibilities below are not intended as conclusions. They are invitations to become curious.
| Dashboard light | Questions it might invite |
| Irritation | Has a boundary become unclear? Am I tired or emotionally depleted? Is the client repeating a familiar relational pattern? Is something important being left unsaid in the room? |
| A strong urge to rescue | What feels so urgent? How does the client typically respond to care from others? What is it like for me to witness their suffering? Am I becoming more responsible for change than the client is? |
| Avoidance | What conversation feels difficult to enter? Am I protecting the client, protecting myself, or protecting the therapeutic relationship? What uncertainty feels uncomfortable here? |
| Hopelessness | Am I experiencing something of the client’s despair? Has therapy become stuck? Am I carrying unrealistic expectations about how quickly change should occur? |
| Overprotectiveness | What makes this client feel especially vulnerable to me? Does this connect with my own experiences or values? Might I be underestimating the client’s strengths? |
| Unusually strong optimism | What is giving me confidence? Am I noticing only evidence that supports my hopes? Have I become attached to a particular outcome? |
| Feeling unusually competent or certain | What assumptions have quietly become fixed? What alternative explanations have I stopped considering? If I discussed this case with a colleague, what might they notice that I have overlooked? |
Perhaps the most important feature of this table is what it does not do. It does not claim that irritation means one thing, or that rescue fantasies always point towards another. Human beings are far too complex for such certainty. The same emotional reaction may emerge from the therapist, the client, the relationship between them, or some combination of all three.
Interpretive humility reminds us that emotions are better approached as hypotheses than conclusions. That stance protects us from two common traps. The first is assuming that every feeling tells us something about the client. The second is assuming that every feeling tells us something about ourselves. More often, the emotional life of therapy emerges within the relationship itself, where both people are continually influencing one another (Gelso & Hayes, 2007; Hayes et al., 2018). When we remember this, the dashboard becomes a place of curiosity rather than certainty.
Before interpreting, regulate
Imagine trying to diagnose an unfamiliar sound in your car while the engine is racing, the radio is blaring, and several warning lights are flashing at once. Most of us would instinctively slow down before deciding what needed attention.
Our emotional lives work in much the same way. When a strong emotional reaction arises in therapy, our first task is rarely to interpret it accurately. To do that, we must create enough internal space to think clearly about it. Fortunately, this need not be complicated. A brief pause is often enough to interrupt the automatic movement from feeling to conclusion. Notice. Breathe. Name the emotion. Allow it to exist without immediately explaining it away or acting upon it.
Only then begin asking what it might be communicating. Positive psychologist Sue Langley frequently reminds clinicians that emotions are data. One of the simplest responses we can make when a strong feeling arises is to pause and say to ourselves, “Oh, I’m getting data. Isn’t that interesting?” (more in Langley’s MHA credential course, Emotion Science in Clinical Practice, 2026).
Those few words create remarkable psychological space. They gently loosen the grip of self-judgment and replace it with curiosity. Instead of becoming overwhelmed by the emotion, we begin observing it.
This process reflects an important principle of emotional regulation: we understand our emotions more clearly when we are no longer completely immersed in them. Naming and acknowledging our internal experience activates reflective capacities that make thoughtful interpretation possible (Allen et al., 2008; Bateman & Fonagy, 2019).
Notice first, interpret later
Only after this pause do broader questions become useful.
- Is this reaction familiar?
- What happened immediately before I noticed it?
- Has this feeling appeared with other clients, or only this one?
- What else might be contributing to it today?
Sometimes the answer becomes clearer within the session itself. At other times, it emerges during supervision, consultation, or quiet reflection afterwards. The timing matters less than the attitude we bring to the process. Notice first. Interpret later.
By regulating before interpreting, therapists reduce the risk of acting impulsively on emotional reactions while preserving the valuable information those reactions may contain. We neither suppress the dashboard lights nor allow them to drive the car. Instead, we acknowledge them, become curious about them, and continue the journey with greater awareness.
That quiet sequence – pause, regulate, reflect, then respond – gradually becomes one of the most dependable habits of reflective clinical practice (Bennett-Levy, 2005; Schön, 1983).
Questions that deepen curiosity
If emotional reactions are invitations rather than accusations, the quality of our questions becomes more important than the speed of our answers.
Strong emotions naturally create a sense of urgency. We want to know why we feel irritated, discouraged, unusually hopeful, or reluctant to see a particular client. Yet meaningful understanding rarely emerges from asking, “What’s wrong?” It grows from asking better questions. Curiosity slows the mind just enough to make room for reflection.
Instead of immediately searching for explanations, therapists can begin by exploring the context in which the reaction emerged.
- What changed just before I noticed this feeling?
- Has something shifted in the therapeutic relationship?
- Is this a familiar reaction for me, or does it seem unique to this client?
- Have I felt something similar with other clients – or even in other relationships?
These questions encourage us to notice patterns before assigning meaning. Other questions gently widen the lens.
- Does this reaction belong entirely to me?
- Could it reflect something the client regularly evokes in other relationships?
- Might it be emerging from the interaction between us rather than from either of us individually?
- What assumptions have I made that I have not yet questioned?
These are not questions that demand immediate answers. Rather, they create space for thoughtful exploration.
Sometimes curiosity also invites us to turn towards ourselves with compassion.
- What value of mine feels challenged at this moment?
- What uncertainty feels difficult to tolerate?
- Am I trying particularly hard to be helpful, competent, or reassuring today?
- What might I be protecting – my client, myself, or the therapeutic relationship?
These questions are not exercises in self-criticism. They are acts of self-understanding. Indeed, one of the quiet paradoxes of reflective practice is that genuine curiosity and self-compassion often grow together. When therapists stop treating every emotional reaction as evidence that something is wrong, they become freer to explore what that reaction may actually be communicating.
Curiosity does not weaken professional judgement. It strengthens it. By widening the range of possibilities we are willing to consider, curiosity protects us from premature conclusions while helping us remain responsive to the complexity of the therapeutic relationship (Allen et al., 2008; Bennett-Levy, 2005; Schön, 1983).
Turning emotional reactions into clinical wisdom
There is a common misconception that experienced therapists simply become less emotionally reactive. In reality, many seasoned clinicians would describe something quite different. Their emotional lives have not become quieter. They have become easier to understand.
With experience, therapists gradually learn that emotional reactions are neither obstacles to effective practice nor privileged sources of truth. They occupy a more balanced place. They become one important stream of information, considered alongside the client’s story, the therapeutic relationship, clinical formulation, supervision, consultation, research evidence, and professional judgment.
In other words, emotions become part of clinical thinking rather than substitutes for it. This shift is subtle but profound. Instead of attempting to suppress irritation, therapists become curious about what it might illuminate. Instead of feeling ashamed of rescue fantasies, they begin wondering what those impulses reveal about suffering, responsibility, and hope. Instead of fearing uncertainty, they gradually discover that uncertainty often marks the beginning of deeper understanding rather than the end of competence.
Fluency the goal
Perhaps this is one of the quiet hallmarks of professional maturity. Excellent therapists do not strive to eliminate countertransference or emotional reactions altogether. Rather, they become increasingly fluent in recognising, regulating, reflecting upon, and thoughtfully integrating them into their clinical work (Gelso & Hayes, 2007; Hayes et al., 2018).
Like experienced drivers, they do not become skilled because the dashboard lights stop appearing. They become skilled because they learn which lights require immediate action, which simply invite attention, and which only make sense when understood alongside everything else happening on the journey. The dashboard is no longer something to fear. It becomes part of driving well.
Therapy is much the same. The goal is not to stop having emotional reactions. The goal is to become increasingly fluent in their language. This fluency develops gradually through reflection, consultation, supervision, and the willingness to remain open to new understanding. Over time, therapists discover that emotional awareness is less about analysing feelings than about cultivating a relationship with them that is grounded in curiosity, humility, and compassion.
Conclusion: Not fewer emotions but more intelligible ones
Ultimately, the most valuable question is not, “Why did I have this reaction?” but, “Having noticed this reaction, how can I use it wisely in service of my client?” That question quietly transforms the therapist’s internal world. Emotions cease to be private experiences to overcome. They become companions in reflective practice – never infallible, never ignored, and always approached with thoughtful curiosity.
Perhaps that is one of the enduring gifts of this work. Our emotional reactions do not become fewer as we grow. They become more intelligible. And as they do, so do we. Clinical wisdom is not found in feeling less. It is found in understanding more.
Key takeaways
- Every therapist has emotional reactions. Feelings such as irritation, protectiveness, discouragement, or a desire to rescue are not signs of professional failure. They are natural responses that arise within deeply human therapeutic relationships.
- Emotional reactions are information before they are conclusions. Like the dashboard lights in a car, they invite attention rather than self-judgment. Their presence tells us that something deserves thoughtful exploration, not immediate interpretation.
- Interpretive humility protects good clinical thinking. Strong emotions rarely have a single explanation. By holding multiple possibilities in mind, therapists remain open to understanding what may be emerging within themselves, their clients, or the therapeutic relationship.
- Regulation creates the space for reflection. Pausing, noticing, naming, and gently regulating our emotional responses allows curiosity to replace reactivity and supports more thoughtful clinical decision-making.
- Curiosity is one of the therapist’s greatest professional strengths. Replacing questions such as “What’s wrong with me?” with “Isn’t that interesting?” or “What might this reaction be pointing towards?” transforms emotional experiences into opportunities for learning.
- Clinical wisdom is not measured by having fewer emotional reactions. It develops through becoming increasingly fluent in recognising, regulating, reflecting upon, and thoughtfully integrating those reactions into therapeutic practice.
Questions therapists often ask
Q. Shouldn’t experienced therapists stop having strong emotional reactions?
A. No. Experience does not eliminate emotional responses; it changes our relationship with them. Seasoned therapists often become more comfortable recognising, regulating, and reflecting upon their emotions rather than judging themselves for having them.
Q. How do I know whether an emotional reaction belongs to me or to the client?
A. Often, the most honest answer is that it may not belong entirely to either. Emotional reactions can arise from the therapist, the client, the relationship between them, or some combination of all three. Rather than searching for a single explanation, it is usually more helpful to explore several possibilities through reflection, consultation, or supervision.
Q. What if I feel irritated by a client?
A. Irritation is neither evidence of poor therapy nor proof that the client is “difficult.” Like any emotional response, it is best approached with curiosity. Consider what was happening immediately before the feeling arose, whether it has appeared with other clients, and what it may be inviting you to notice about the therapeutic relationship.
Q. Can emotional reactions actually improve therapy?
A. Yes – provided they are recognised, regulated, and thoughtfully reflected upon. When therapists become curious about their own internal experiences rather than reacting impulsively to them, those experiences can enrich case formulation, strengthen therapeutic relationships, and deepen clinical understanding.
Q. What is the single most helpful habit I can develop?
A. Perhaps the simplest – and most powerful – is learning to pause before interpreting. When a strong emotional reaction arises, gently notice it and ask yourself, “Isn’t that interesting? I wonder what this might be pointing towards?” That brief moment of curiosity often creates the psychological space in which reflective practice begins.
References
- Allen, J. G., Fonagy, P., & Bateman, A. W. (2008). Mentalizing in clinical practice. American Psychiatric Publishing.
- Bateman, A. W., & Fonagy, P. (2019). Handbook of mentalizing in mental health practice (2nd ed.). American Psychiatric Association Publishing.
- Bennett-Levy, J. (2005). Therapist skills: A cognitive model of their acquisition and refinement. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 34(1), 57-78.
- Gelso, C. J., & Hayes, J. A. (2007). Countertransference and the therapist’s inner experience: Perils and possibilities. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
- Hayes, J. A., Gelso, C. J., Goldberg, S., & Kivlighan, D. M., Jr. (2018). Countertransference management and effective psychotherapy: Meta-analytic findings. Psychotherapy, 55(4), 496–507.
- Schön, D. A. (1983). The reflective practitioner: How professionals think in action. Basic Books