Will your therapist tell you what they feel? On disclosing countertransference

“What do you actually think of me? Honestly.”

Therapists hear this question more often than you might imagine. Sometimes it comes at the start, as a test. Sometimes after a hard session, when someone has said something they have never told anyone and cannot bear the silence that follows. Sometimes after months, when the relationship is finally safe enough for them to dare ask at all.

And each time the therapist faces the same decision: how much of what they feel should they say? This is the fourth post in a series on countertransference. In the first I described what countertransference is, in the second how it becomes a message, and in the third where the therapist takes it. Here: when they bring it back into the room — and when it is better not to.

Why therapists don’t tell you everything

The therapeutic relationship is asymmetrical, and deliberately so. You bring your life; the therapist brings their attention. If the therapist talked about themselves as much as you do, the session would turn into a conversation between friends — which is valuable, but something else. The space would become shared, and the person who came for help would start looking after someone else as well.

That is why therapists talk about themselves rarely and deliberately. It is not coldness and it is not concealment. It is protecting a space that is meant for you. When a therapist is silent about themselves, it is not because they are uninterested or hiding something from you, but so that your story stays at the centre. I wrote more about what a therapist’s silence means in What a therapist is really thinking when they are silent.

But complete silence about oneself has a cost too. A therapist who never shows that anything moved them can come across as a wall. And people who grew up with emotionally unavailable parents recognise something very familiar in such a wall.

What the research shows

In a 2014 meta-analysis, Joseph Henretty and colleagues combined 53 studies on how therapist disclosure affects clients. They found a small but consistent positive effect: when therapists shared something about themselves, clients on average experienced them as warmer and more trustworthy. Clara Hill and Sarah Knox, who have researched this area for decades, added an important condition in their review of qualitative studies: disclosure helps when it is infrequent, brief and client-focused — and when the therapist immediately returns the attention to the client.

Research distinguishes several types of disclosure, which differ greatly in what they do to the relationship.

Facts about oneself are the most everyday. The therapist mentions that they are a parent too, that they went through a similar loss, that they grew up in the countryside. This can ease shame — “so I’m not the only one” — but it also has the most obvious pitfall: attention shifts to the therapist for a moment, and some clients then start asking, worrying, comparing.

An in-the-moment response is closer to countertransference. The therapist says what they feel now, in response to what they have heard: “When you say that, my heart tightens.” “I notice I feel sad hearing your story.” For people who grew up with parents who did not respond to their feelings, such a sentence can be the first proof in their life that their story has reached someone.

Disclosing countertransference is the most demanding. The therapist does not just say what they feel, but what keeps repeating between you: “I notice I often have the feeling I need to rescue you. Does that seem familiar?” Such a disclosure can open a whole chapter of therapy. But if it comes too early or inappropriately, it can sound like an accusation.

When disclosure helps and when it harms

There is no recipe for disclosure, but there are questions a good therapist asks before saying anything about themselves. The most important is just one: who will this benefit?

I would highlight two things in particular. First: a disclosure that brings the therapist relief is almost always wrong. If a therapist says what they feel because they can no longer carry it alone, the right place is supervision, not the client. Second: feelings of attraction are not disclosed to a client. Ever. Not “honestly”, not “in the name of openness”. This is not a question of technique but of ethics — power in the relationship is not evenly distributed, and such a disclosure puts the client in a position they cannot safely withdraw from.

What happens with “What do you think of me?”

Let us go back to the question from the opening. When someone asks me what I think of them, I have a few paths open, and none is always right.

I can answer directly: “I think you’re brave for coming, and that you carry far more than you show.” Sometimes that is exactly what a person needs — especially someone who has never been told how others see them. Then silence can be cruel.

Or I can first turn the question back: “What are you hoping I’ll say? And what are you afraid I’ll say?” This is not evasion. The answer to that question often contains the whole story — fear of being too much, boring, bad; hope that here at last is someone who sees them differently. Once we have heard that, I can answer the first question too, only now we both know where the answer will land.

Most often I do both. First I take an interest in what lies behind the question, then I say something honest — brief, warm and true. Not something the person would like to hear, but something that is true. People sense very precisely when someone is merely flattering them. False reassurance harms a relationship more than an honest, even somewhat harder, answer.

If you are ever tempted to ask your therapist this, I would encourage you to. Whatever they answer, the question will open something important — even if it feels awkward at first. I wrote about why therapy sometimes hurts first in Why therapy sometimes hurts before it helps.

When a therapist admits they got it wrong

There is one form of disclosure I consider especially valuable, yet it is rarely talked about: when a therapist admits they missed something.

Jeremy Safran and Christopher Muran spent decades researching the moments when something goes wrong in the therapeutic relationship — the therapist misunderstands, says the wrong thing, is absent; the client withdraws or gets angry. They called these alliance ruptures. They found that ruptures themselves are not the problem. The problem is when they are not talked about. When therapist and client notice a rupture and repair it together, this is associated with better therapy outcomes — in some studies even better than if there had been no rupture at all.

But repair almost always takes a little disclosure. Such a conversation might sound like this (a composite, not a real person):

“Last time I felt you weren’t listening to me. As if you were somewhere else.”
“Thank you for telling me. You’re right — part of me really was elsewhere. It wasn’t because of you. How was it for you when you noticed?”
“Like at home. When Dad was home but wasn’t there.”
“And still you came and told me.”
“Yes. For the first time.”

That moment was a turning point in therapy, not because I was a perfect therapist, but precisely because I was not. He experienced that he could tell someone they had hurt him — and that the relationship did not collapse because of it, but deepened. He had never experienced that at home.

Exercise: how to ask your therapist what they feel

If you want to know what your therapist feels with you, you can ask. Here are a few steps to help your question open a conversation rather than remain just a test.

1. Before you ask, notice why you want to know. Are you looking for reassurance? Afraid you are a burden? Wanting to check they really care? Each of these reasons is fine — and each is a good topic in itself.
2. Ask specifically. Instead of “What do you think of me?” try “How was it for you when I talked about my brother?” A specific question is easier to answer honestly.
3. Say what you noticed. “It seemed to me you frowned.” “I had the feeling you were uncomfortable.” Your perception is an important part of the conversation.
4. Be ready for a partial answer. Your therapist may not tell you everything, but they can tell you why — and ask what you hoped to hear.
5. After the session, write down how it was for you. Did you feel heard, rejected, relieved? That is material for next time.

If a therapist answers such a question in a closed, defensive or mocking way, that too is information — and you are entirely justified in bringing it into the conversation, or in deciding this relationship is not right for you. I wrote about choosing a therapist in How to choose the right therapist for you.

How approaches differ

It would not be fair not to mention that therapists do not agree on this.

In classical psychoanalysis the therapist almost never talks about themselves. The reason is not coldness but the belief that an empty space allows the client’s images of the therapist to show clearly so they can be explored. In humanistic and relational approaches — including relational family therapy, which I am training in — the therapist is more visible as a person, because we believe healing happens in a real relationship. Cognitive behavioural therapists talk about themselves mainly when it serves a concrete goal, for example in overcoming a fear.

None of these approaches is the “right” one. If it matters to you how much of themselves a therapist shows, it is good to ask at the start. How a therapist works with their own feelings is an entirely appropriate question for a first session.

It is also worth knowing that non-disclosure is not necessarily a sign that a therapist feels nothing or does not care. Often it is the opposite: the feeling is there, but the therapist keeps it to themselves so the space stays yours. You will find a short explanation of what passes between you in the knowledge base under countertransference.

What to remember

• Therapists talk about themselves rarely and deliberately — to keep the space yours, not to hide anything from you.
• A meta-analysis of 53 studies shows clients experience thoughtful disclosure as warmth and trustworthiness.
• The key question for any disclosure is: who will this benefit?
• Attraction is never disclosed to a client; a therapist’s need for relief belongs in supervision.
• When a therapist admits a mistake and you repair it together, the relationship can deepen.