Good enough rapport. Ari owns up to the one client he answered with two blunt words, knowing the relationship could take it and that it would make them both laugh. It worked, and he still second-guessed it afterwards. Candice describes the different parts of herself she draws on depending on the client: some stories she knows are hogwash and accepts anyway, because in that moment the client needs to be believed, and some get a plain "I call bullshit on that." Neither of them chooses consciously; it comes from years of reading people.

Saying nothing, cleverly. Ari remembers a young man who answered every direct question with an abstraction, and the rare feeling of getting annoyed in session. Candice's move with clients who intellectualize is to get out of the clouds and ask for an actual example. With teenagers who feel wronged, she often agrees, because what they describe is true for them, and contradicting it only adds one more person who doesn't believe them.

Other people's realities. Ari recalls an early practicum client who described hallucinations, and the worry at the time that asking about them would feed them. Candice talks about perspective: two people standing in different corners of the same room describe the same things, and they are different. Ari describes his own auditory and visual hallucinations in hospital after a brain injury: a crowd in the hallway that earplugs could not shut out, then strange, anime-like figures in the corners of the ceiling, and the oddness of knowing they weren't real and finding that knowing wasn't enough to make them stop. Candice wonders aloud about the number of young people identifying with dissociative identity disorder after seeing it online, and how that differs from the ordinary experience of having different sides. She describes reality testing with a client who saw people with knives coming out of crowds, and then exploring where else in their life that client felt attacked.

The DJ and the diamond. Clients ask both of them whether they are like this all the time. Ari answers with a mixing board: different faders for different parts of himself, pushed up or pulled down depending on the room. Candice is a diamond, with different facets catching the light. Neither feels like a facade. They talk about leaving the non-judgmental stance at the office door, and Ari passes on a line from psychotherapist Daniel Farb: it isn't that therapists have no judgment, it's that they know when sharing it will help.

Annoyance as information. Candice offers a supervision idea: when a client gets under your skin, you may be feeling what everyone in their life feels around them, which gives you the chance to respond differently. Ari calls his old session a missed opportunity, and Candice reminds him that what isn't dealt with tends to come back.

What AI can't do in the room. Please and thank you, an imagined AI tribunal, and Candice's kid on how much water a polite thank-you uses. Candice's theory on why AI won't replace therapists: so much of the work means leaning away from the predictable. Ari tells the story of a child who turned his anxiety into a dragon that slept in a box during the day, and shares a line from one of his favourite therapists: a good therapist has the eye of a detective and the mouth of a poet. Candice explains tips and tools as the Advil for the headache, and therapy as the search for the cause. They finish on what "reasonable" privacy means now that AI is in the picture, and on why we can't have nice things.

A note on the science: Candice mentions a recent study on why some people hear voices. It is Whitford and colleagues (UNSW Sydney, Schizophrenia Bulletin, 2025): in people who had recently heard voices, the brain responded to their own silent inner speech as though it were a sound arriving from outside. It is one study, and the researchers describe it cautiously. It does not on its own explain why therapy helps, though psychological therapy for distressing voices (cognitive behavioural therapy for psychosis) is recommended in clinical guidelines and helps some people, usually alongside other care. And many AI tools now work with voice, images and video as well as written words.

Like the way we think? The Circle is where we keep the conversation going with clinicians like you. Come find your people: The Therapist Circle

When your values and a client’s collide. From there they ask when a therapist gets to say no to a client. Candice walks through the examples that come up again and again on professional discussion boards: a religious therapist whose client has had an abortion, therapists on opposite sides of the vaccine divide during COVID, and a queer therapist whose long-standing client began spending sessions condemning a family member who had come out, without knowing the therapist's own identity. Do you disclose, challenge, let it go, or refer on? Ari shares how he once named a concern gently ("some relationship experts might consider some of what's going on to be toxic") rather than telling a client what to do. Candice describes an intern who was angry and frustrated with a client who kept choosing to stay with an abusive partner, and the supervisory work of separating our own wishes for a client from the client's right to choose. Ari offers a friend's line that lands well: therapists are not people without judgements; we have simply learned when sharing one will be useful and when it won't.

Managing energy by managing the calendar. Ari talks openly about structuring his days and weeks around a brain injury: more space between sessions than any therapist he knows, and the occasional week where he has to cancel everyone and stop. He finds it hard to watch clients insist they cannot slow down when he knows how necessary it can be. Candice describes the opposite pace, eight to ten sessions back to back three days a week with two days fully off, and how she needs a mix of case types through the day to stay sharp. The clinic's new practice management system lets clients book themselves in, and she has been surprised by the sigh that comes with each "someone booked in" notification. She realised she had been managing her energy by managing her calendar. Ari compares it to being on call: exhausting even if nobody rings. He moved his online booking cut-off from twelve to twenty-four hours so nobody can slide into home plate without him knowing. Candice's single session clinic runs on a four-hour window, which regular clients have discovered too. Her workaround is simple: if she doesn't want the late slot, she blocks it in the morning. Then comes the guilt of open slots nobody is using, which she suspects is worse than parent guilt (blanket on, blanket off, blanket on again).

Humour as a way of stepping back. Ari notices that clients who can find something funny in their situation tend to be in a healthier place, and that he worries more about the ones who can't find any humour at all. Candice connects this to naming anxiety and telling it to be quiet, and to an activity she uses with young children, borrowed from the boggart lesson in Harry Potter: take the thing they fear and make it ridiculous. The burglar they worry about is now wearing pink spandex. In her experience, humour and fear are hard to hold at the same time. Both of them talk about analogy and naming as ways of stepping away from a problem far enough to see it, and Ari mentions two podcasts that do this with their titles alone: The Hilarious World of Depression and You Made It Weird.

Where each of us is rooted. Candice spots Ari as a narrative therapist at heart, and he agrees that narrative therapy found him: a musician, storyteller and improviser who always thinks in storylines. He compares it to his music: he plays many styles, but everything runs through punk rock. Candice calls herself intentionally eclectic, choosing a narrative move for distance, a Gestalt empty chair, or somatic work depending on what a client needs in the moment. They land on the idea that most of us have a base way of understanding the world, and the other models we learn fill the gaps it leaves.

Therapy, coaching, and the strangest business model. Ari has been asked the difference between a coach and a therapist and tries out an answer about who holds the expertise: if therapy is done well, the client leaves feeling like the expert in their own life. Candice, who also does some coaching work, describes coaching as following a process towards a goal and therapy as helping someone understand themselves, with counselling somewhere in between. Her favourite line: therapy should be a lifeline, not a life sentence. If she is doing her job well, she is putting herself out of business. That brings them full circle to where they started, and to referrals. Candice tells the story of how, in the flood of work after the first months of COVID, a group of Milton therapists began passing referrals to whoever actually wanted that kind of work. They went from overwhelmed to steady, because everyone was doing work they enjoyed.

Like the way we think? The Circle is where we keep the conversation going with clinicians like you. Come find your people: The Therapist Circle

Like the way we think? The Circle is where we keep the conversation going with clinicians like you. Come find your people: The Therapist Circle

Two therapists sit down without a plan and follow a good question wherever it goes. What starts as "how close is too close to a client?" turns into an honest conversation about talking about suicide without flinching, why keeping people safe depends on going deeper rather than backing away, and what happens to the work when we stop trying to be the expert. Along the way: curiosity versus judgment, the difference between fixing and understanding, why nobody grows from being comfortable, and the idea that we, not the office or the toolbox, are the space the work happens in.

Content note: this episode includes open discussion of suicide and MAID (medical assistance in dying).

What we get into:

- How close is too close to a client: transference, countertransference, and the "friend zone"

- "Who are we to say suicide is wrong?" A colleague's question, MAID, and the gray areas mental health still occupies

- Why the safety mandate needs the deep conversation, not less of it, and how documentation protects you

- From understanding to fascination: curiosity and judgment can't share a room

- Letting go of the expert seat

- Fixing versus understanding, and the idea that maybe nothing is wrong

- Nobody grows from being comfortable

- "We are the space": the real room is the conversation between two people

- Aging, burnout, and getting the magic back

Links:

- Join The Circle (free two-week trial): https://tinyurl.com/th3c1rcl3

Like the way we think? The Circle is where we keep the conversation going with clinicians like you. Come find your people: https://tinyurl.com/th3c1rcl3

Like the way we think? The Circle is where we keep the conversation going with clinicians like you. Come find your people: The Therapist Circle