The following is an excerpt from a chapter I wrote with my colleagues Roni Johnson and Maegan Rides At The Door. The full chapter is in the Cambridge Handbook of Clinical Assessment and Diagnosis . . .
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The clinical interview is a fundamental assessment and intervention procedure that mental and behavioral health professionals learn and apply throughout their careers. Psychotherapists across all theoretical orientations, professional disciplines, and treatment settings employ different interviewing skills, including, but not limited to, nondirective listening, questioning, confrontation, interpretation, immediacy, and psychoeducation. As a process, the clinical interview functions as an assessment (e.g., neuropsychological or forensic examinations) or signals the initiation of counseling or psychotherapy. Either way, clinical interviewing involves formal or informal assessment. [For a short video on how to address client problems and goals in the clinical interview, see below]
Clinical interviewing is dynamic and flexible; every interview is a unique interpersonal interaction, with interviewers integrating cultural awareness, knowledge, and skills, as needed. It is difficult to imagine how clinicians could begin treatment without an initial clinical interview. In fact, clinicians who do not have competence in using clinical interviewing as a means to initiate and inform treatment would likely be considered unethical (Welfel, 2016).
Clinical interviewing has been defined as
“a complex and multidimensional interpersonal process that occurs between a professional service provider and client [or patient]. The primary goals are (1) assessment and (2) helping. To achieve these goals, individual clinicians may emphasize structured diagnostic questioning, spontaneous and collaborative talking and listening, or both. Clinicians use information obtained in an initial clinical interview to develop a [therapeutic relationship], case formulation, and treatment plan” (Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 2017, p. 6)
A Generic Clinical Interviewing Model
All clinical interviews follow a common process or outline. Shea (1998) offered a generic or atheoretical model, including five stages: (1) introduction, (2) opening, (3) body, (4) closing, and (5) termination. Each stage includes specific relational and technical tasks.
Introduction
The introduction stage begins at first contact. An introduction can occur via telephone, online, or when prospective clients read information about their therapist (e.g., online descriptions, informed consents, etc.). Client expectations, role induction, first impressions, and initial rapport-building are central issues and activities.
First impressions, whether developed through informed consent paperwork or initial greetings, can exert powerful influences on interview process and clinical outcomes. Mental health professionals who engage clients in ways that are respectful and culturally sensitive are likely to facilitate trust and collaboration, consequently resulting in more reliable and valid assessment data (Ganzini et al., 2013). Technical strategies include authentic opening statements that invite collaboration. For example, the clinician might say something like, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better” and “I hope you’ll feel comfortable asking me whatever questions you like as we talk together today.” Using friendliness and small talk can be especially important to connecting with diverse clients (Hays, 2016; Sue & Sue, 2016). The introduction stage also includes discussions of (1) confidentiality, (2) therapist theoretical orientation, and (3) role induction (e.g., “Today I’ll be doing a diagnostic interview with you. That means I’ll be asking lots of questions. My goal is to better understand what’s been troubling you.”). The introduction ends when clinicians shift from paperwork and small talk to a focused inquiry into the client’s problems or goals.
Opening
The opening provides an initial focus. Most mental health practitioners begin clinical assessments by asking something like, “What concerns bring you to counseling today?” This question guides clients toward describing their presenting problem (i.e., psychiatrists refer to this as the “chief complaint”). Clinicians should be aware that opening with questions that are more social (e.g., “How are you today?” or “How was your week?”) prompt clients in ways that can unintentionally facilitate a less focused and more rambling opening stage. Similarly, beginning with direct questioning before establishing rapport and trust can elicit defensiveness and dissembling (Shea, 1998).
Many contemporary therapists prefer opening statements or questions with positive wording. For example, rather than asking about problems, therapists might ask, “What are your goals for our meeting today?” For clients with a diverse or minority identity, cultural adaptations may be needed to increase client comfort and make certain that opening questions are culturally appropriate and relevant. When focusing on diagnostic assessment and using a structured or semi-structured interview protocol, the formal opening statement may be scripted or geared toward obtaining an overview of potential psychiatric symptoms (e.g., “Does anyone in your family have a history of mental health problems?”; Tolin et al., 2018, p. 3).
Body
The interview purpose governs what happens during the body stage. If the purpose is to collect information pertaining to psychiatric diagnosis, the body includes diagnostic-focused questions. In contrast, if the purpose is to initiate psychotherapy, the focus could quickly turn toward the history of the problem and what specific behaviors, people, and experiences (including previous therapy) clients have found more or less helpful.
When the interview purpose is assessment, the body stage focuses on information gathering. Clinicians actively question clients about distressing symptoms, including their frequency, duration, intensity, and quality. During structured interviews, specific question protocols are followed. These protocols are designed to help clinicians stay focused and systematically collect reliable and valid assessment data.
Closing
As the interview progresses, it is the clinician’s responsibility to organize and close the session in ways that assure there is adequate time to accomplish the primary interview goals. Tasks and activities linked to the closing include (1) providing support and reassurance for clients, (2) returning to role induction and client expectations, (3) summarizing crucial themes and issues, (4) providing an early case formulation or mental disorder diagnosis, (5) instilling hope, and, as needed, (6) focusing on future homework, future sessions, and scheduling (Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 2017).
Termination
Termination involves ending the session and parting ways. The termination stage requires excellent time management skills; it also requires intentional sensitivity and responsiveness to how clients might react to endings in general or leaving the therapy office in particular. Dealing with termination can be challenging. Often, at the end of an initial session, clinicians will not have enough information to establish a diagnosis. When diagnostic uncertainty exists, clinicians may need to continue gathering information about client symptoms during a second or third session. Including collateral informants to triangulate diagnostic information may be useful or necessary.
See the 7th edition of Clinical Interviewing for MUCH more on this topic:
During my supervision this week, I noticed that the concepts and process of Motivational Interviewing came up several times. When students or professionals don’t know the basics of Motivational Interviewing (MI), I feel compelled to speak up. MI is a method, strategy, or philosophy that’s complex, nuanced, and essential. We should all know about and have MI skills. To feel the centrality of MI to counseling and psychotherapy, it helps to start with MI’s most fundamental organizing principle.
“It is the client who should be voicing the arguments for change” (Miller & Rollnick, 2002, p. 22).
If you contemplate this principle (and you should), then you’ll need to examine your own role in the change process. That’s because, if look at (or listen to) yourself, and YOU’RE the one voicing the arguments for change, you must stop.
If you don’t stop, then you may be contributing to your clients’ resistance to change.
MI ideas are challenging to our natural impulses. We want to tell clients how to be healthier, but our job is not to voice the argument for positive and healthy change; our job is to nurture their argument for positive and healthy change. This is where the nuance comes in. How can we, as interviewers (aka counselors or psychotherapists) create an interaction wherein the client is more likely to take the lead in voicing the arguments for positive and healthy change?
The answer to that question is complex, as it should be. In part, my answer today is to include an excerpt from Chapter 12 (Challenging Client Behaviors and Demanding Situations) of our Clinical Interviewing text. This excerpt starts with the topic of “Challenging Client Behaviors” or behaviors that clients engage in that counselors and psychotherapists often find challenging. The content includes a discussion of the concept of “resistance,” MI strategies, as well other ideas of our own and from the literature.
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Challenging Client Behaviors
As the client and therapist talk more and more about the solution they want to construct together, they come to believe in the truth or reality of what they are talking about. This is the way language works, naturally.
—Insoo Kim Berg and Steven de Shazer, Making numbers talk, 1993, p. 6
Not all clients are equally cooperative. Here are a few opening lines we’ve heard over the years:
Do I have to be here?
No disrespect, but I hate counselors.
I’ll never talk to you about anything important, and you can’t make me.
This is a shitty little office; you must be a shitty little therapist.
How long will this take?
How old are you? How are you supposed to help me if you’re still in middle school?
In our work with adolescents and young adults, we’ve directly experienced the pleasure (or pain) of being in interviews with people who want little to do with therapy, and nothing to do with us. We’ve had clients refuse to be alone in the room with us, others who refused to speak, a few who insisted on standing, and many who told us with great disdain (and punctuated with profanity) that they don’t believe in counseling.
The first part of this chapter is about interviewing clients who oppose the helping process. It’s also about the deep satisfaction of working with clients who slowly or suddenly shift their attitudes and become cooperative. When these clients eventually enter the room, begin speaking, stop swearing, agree to sit, and begin believing in counseling (and counselors!), it can be a profoundly rewarding experience.
Defining and Exploring Resistance
Freud viewed resistance as inevitable and ubiquitous. Following Freud’s lead, psychotherapists for many years considered virtually anything clients did or said as potential signs of resistance, such as
Talking too much, or talking too little
Arriving late, or arriving early
Being unprepared or overprepared for psychotherapy
The Death (or Reframing) of Resistance
Many theorists and practitioners question the nature and helpfulness of resistance as a concept. In 1984, writing from a solution-focused perspective, Steven de Shazer announced the “death of resistance.” He subsequently held a ceremony and buried it in his backyard. Other theorists and researchers—particularly from culturally diverse perspectives—have followed his lead in viewing resistance differently (Adames et al., 2022; Chimpén-López, C., 2021). They view resistance as an unhelpful linguistic creation that developed because sometimes clients don’t want to (or shouldn’t) do what their “bossy” or oppressive therapist wants them to do (Ratts et al., 2016). In other words, resistance isn’t a problem centered in the client; it’s a problem created by therapists and the power dynamic this presents.
Around the time de Shazer was burying resistance in his backyard, William R. Miller was discovering that reflective listening, empathy, and encouragement with clients who had substance problems, outperformed confrontation and behavioral interventions (W. Miller, 1978, 1983). This discovery led to the development of motivational interviewing (W. Miller & Rollnick, 1991; Miller & Moyers, 2021). Motivational interviewing (MI) is now widely acknowledged as an effective treatment for health, substance, and mental health problems (McKay, 2021; Romano & Peters, 2015).
Resistance is Multidetermined
Unlike the early psychoanalytic position, resistance is neither inevitable or ubiquitous. But it’s probably not dead either. Instead, resistance (aka ambivalence or reluctance) originates from three main sources:
Resistance from the client. Sometimes resistance is real, palpable, and originates from clients’ beliefs, attitudes, ambivalence, or internalized view of therapy as an oppressive situation (Adames et al., 2022). When resistance emanates from clients (regardless of therapist behavior), clients are usually in the precontemplation (not interested in changing) or contemplation (occasional transient thoughts of changing) stages of change (see Chapter 6 for an overview of the transtheoretical stages of change model; Prochaska & DiClemente, 2005).
Resistance that therapists stimulate. Sometimes therapists behave in ways that create resistance rather than cooperation. Overuse of confrontation or interpretation can stimulate client resistance (Romano & Peters, 2015). Therapists who don’t examine and manage their countertransference biases toward particular client populations (e.g., teenage clients, reluctant clients, mandated clients, or clients from diverse cultures), or who perpetuate marginalization of diverse populations, are especially prone to creating client resistance (Ratts, 2017; Tishby & Wiseman, 2020).
Resistance as a function of the situation. Resistance may be a product of a difficult and uncomfortable situation, a situation or expected coercive interpersonal interactions that naturally trigger reactance (i.e., negative expectations and defensiveness; Beutler et al., 2011). Reactance is a well-established psychological phenomenon (Brehm, 1966; Place & Meloy, 2018): When people feel coerced or pushed, they tend to push back, resisting the perceived source of coercion (e.g., therapist). For most mandated clients and for many ambivalent clients, resistance to therapy is a natural, situationally triggered behavior (J. Sommers-Flanagan et al., 2011). Also, for clients with diverse ethnicities or societally-marginalized identities, therapy can naturally feel like the repetition of power-imbalanced colonization experiences (Gone, 2021; Singh et al., 2020).
We realize that framing resistance as multidetermined and natural (or burying it) doesn’t automatically make it easier to handle (J. Sommers-Flanagan & Bequette, 2013). To therapists, resistance can still feel aggressive, provocative, oppositional, and threatening.
It’s unrealistic to expect all clients—especially adolescents or mandated adults in precontemplation or contemplation stages of change—to immediately speak openly and work productively with an unfamiliar authority figure. It’s also unrealistic to expect clients for whom therapy is a new and uncomfortable experience to immediately begin sharing their innermost thoughts. If you use the word resistance, it’s helpful to add the word “natural.” Doing so offers empathy for the client’s entry into an uncomfortable situation and acknowledges the need for strategies and techniques for dealing with client behaviors that are too easily labeled resistant (Hara et al., 2018; Miller & Moyers, 2021). The central question then becomes: What clinician behaviors reduce natural client resistance and defensiveness?
Motivational Interviewing and Other Strategies
In their groundbreaking text, Motivational Interviewing, W. Miller and Rollnick (1991, 2002, 2013) described a practical approach to recognizing and working with client resistance. They emphasized that most humans are ambivalent about personal change because of competing motivations. For example, a client may simultaneously have two competing motivations about smoking cigarettes:
I should quit because smoking is expensive and unhealthy.
I should keep smoking because it’s pleasurable and gives me a feeling of emotional control.
Imagine yourself in an interview situation. You recognize your client is engaging in a self-destructive behavior (e.g., smoking, cutting, punching walls). In response, you educate your client and make a case for giving up the self-destructive behavior. W. Miller and Rollnick (2002) described this classic scenario:
[The therapist] then proceeds to advise, teach, persuade, counsel or argue for this particular resolution to [the client’s] ambivalence. One does not need a doctorate in psychology to anticipate what [the client’s] response is likely to be in this situation. By virtue of ambivalence, [the client] is apt to argue the opposite, or at least point out problems and shortcomings of the proposed solution. It is natural for [the client] to do so, because [he or she] feels at least two ways about this or almost any prescribed solution. It is the very nature of ambivalence. (pp. 20–21)
In MI, resistance is framed as natural ambivalence about change. Consider this from a physical perspective. If you hold out an open hand and ask someone else to do the same and then push against their hand, the other person usually pushes back, matching your force. During a clinical interview, this process happens verbally. The more you push for healthy change, the more clients push back for staying less healthy (Apodaca et al., 2015).
This leads to the central MI hypothesis for resolving client ambivalence and activating motivation:
This points toward a fundamental dynamic in the resolution of ambivalence: It is the client who should be voicing the arguments for change. (W. Miller & Rollnick, 2002, p. 22, italics added)
But how can clinicians help clients make arguments for change?
MI practitioners refer to clients voicing their own arguments for change as change talk. When clients voice their arguments against change, it’s called sustain talk,because clients are arguing to continue or sustain their unhealthy behaviors. The central hypothesis of MI is that the more clients engage in change talk, positive change is more likely to occur.
MI has relational and technical components. The relational component involves embracing a spirit of collaboration, acceptance, and empathy. Embracing the relational component is crucial, if only because clients who report greater secure attachment to their therapists, also report less resistance (Yotsidi et al., 2019). The technical components include intentional evocation and reinforcement of client change talk (W. Miller & Rose, 2009). In practice, it’s difficult to separate the relational and technical components, and it’s likely more efficacious when they’re delivered together anyway. As you work with reluctant, ambivalent, or so-called resistant clients, you’ll need to make sure your Rogerian person-centered hat is firmly in place, while simultaneously using good behavioral skills to evoke and reinforce change talk.
Using Open Questions, Opening Questions, Evocation, and Goal-Setting Strategies
Open questions are fundamental to MI. However, W. Miller and Rollnick (2013) cautioned asking too many questions, including open questions:
A simple rhythm in MI is to ask an open question and then to reflect what the person says, perhaps two reflections per question, like a waltz. Even with open questions, though, avoid asking several in a row, or you may set up the question-answer trap. (p. 63)
Miller and Rollnick (2013) recommended loosely following their two-to-one waltz metaphor; the point is to do more reflecting than questioning. They offer a stronger warning against repeated closed questions, noting, “Chaining together a series of closed questions can be deadly for engagement” (p. 63).
When opening sessions with clients who may be unenthused to see you, you should use positive, strength-focused, empathic, and non-blaming opening questions:
What brings you here today and how do you hope we might help? (Miller & Moyers, 2021, p. 95)
What would make this a helpful visit?
If we have a great meeting today, what will happen?
What needs to happen in here for our time to be productive?
Open questions and opening questions are especially good tools for evoking clients’ strengths, hope, and solutions (McKay, 2021). Not surprisingly, reluctant clients tend to be more responsive when therapists pursue strengths, rather than pathology. Evocation is a technique used to help clients speak to their resources and strengths. Miller and Moyer (2021) view evocation as inherently containing the message: “You have what you need, and together we’re going to find it (p. 93”). If you’re using open questions to bypass natural resistance, you should aim toward evoking client change talk.
Consider the following example of using a variety of questions to facilitate change talk in an emergency room setting (M. Cheng, 2007, p. 163, parenthetical comments added):
Clinician: What would make today’s … visit helpful? (Clinician asks for goals.)
Patient: I want to kill myself, just let me die… (Patient states unhealthy goal/task.)
Clinician: I’m sure you must have your reasons for feeling that way … What makes you want to hurt yourself? (Clinician searches for underlying healthy goal.)
Patient: I just can’t stand the depression anymore and all the fighting at home. I just can’t take it. (The underlying healthy goals include coping with depression and fighting.)
Clinician: … so we need to find a way to help you cope with the depression and the fighting. You told me yourself that there used to be less fighting at home. What would it be like if we found a way to reduce the fighting, have people getting along more? (Clinician uses past hope to focus on future goal)
Patient: A lot better, I guess. But it’s probably not going to happen. (Client expresses little hope)
Clinician: Okay, I can see why you’re frustrated and I do understand that probably the depression makes it hard to see hope. But I believe that there is a part of you that is stronger and more hopeful, because otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking with me. (Clinician externalizes unhealthy thoughts or behaviors as being part of the depression and tries to help the patient rally against the depression.) That hopeful part of you said that your mood used to be happy. What would it be like if we could get your mood happy again?
Patient: A lot better I guess.
Clinician: Just to help me make sure I’m getting this right then, what would you like to see different with your mood? (The clinician reinforces the client’s goals by having the client articulate them.)
Patient: I want to be happy again.
Clinician: And at home, what would you like to see with how people get along?
Patient: I want us to get along better.
Clinician: Let’s agree then that we will work together on finding a way to help people get along, as well as help your mood get better. How does that sound? (Clinician paraphrases patient’s healthy goals.)
Patient: Sounds good… (Patient agrees with goals.)
In this example, Cheng (2007) illustrated how to help patients articulate goals and potential benefits of positive change (change talk). Although the process began with a negatively worded question—“What makes you want to hurt yourself?”—Cheng listened for positive, health-oriented goals. This is an important principle: Even when exploring emotional pain, you can listen for and resonate with unfulfilled positive goals contributing to that pain.
Using Reflection, Amplified Reflection, and Undershooting
Throughout this text, we’ve emphasized nondirective interviewing skills: paraphrasing, reflection of feeling, and summarizing. Research on MI supports this emphasis, showing that these reflective techniques are powerful tools for working with resistance (McKay, 2021). W. Miller and Rollnick (2002, pp. 100–101) provided examples of simple reflections that reduce resistance:
Client 1: I’m trying! If my probation officer would just get off my back, I could focus on getting my life in order.
Therapist 1: You’re working hard on the changes you need to make. Or,
Therapist 1: It’s frustrating to have a probation officer looking over your shoulder.
Client 2: Who are you to be giving me advice? What do you know about drugs? You’ve probably never even smoked a joint!
Therapist 2: It’s hard to imagine how I could possibly understand.
Client 3: I couldn’t keep the weight off even if I lost it.
Therapist 3: You can’t see any way that would work for you. Or,
Therapist 3: You’re rather discouraged about trying again.
When therapists accurately reflect client efforts, frustration, hostility, and discouragement, the need for clients to defend their positions is reduced.
Reflections also stimulate talk about the constructive side of ambivalence. While supervising graduate students in counseling and psychology as they conducted hundreds of brief interviews with client-volunteers, we noticed that when student therapists made an inaccurate reflection, the volunteer-clients felt compelled to clarify their feelings and beliefs in ways that rebalanced their ambivalence. For example:
Client: I’m pissed at my roommate. She won’t pick up her clothes or do the dishes or anything.
Therapist: You’d like to fire her as a roommate.
Client: No. Not that. There are lots of things I like about her, but her messiness really annoys me.
This exchange shows the interviewer inadvertently overstating the client’s negative view of the roommate. In response, the client immediately clarifies: “There are lots of things I like about her.”
As it turns out, the interviewer accidentally used an MI technique called amplified reflection (W. Miller & Rollnick, 2013). Amplified reflection involves intentionally overstating the client’s main message. W. Miller and Rollnick wrote: “As a general principle, if you overstate the intensity of an expressed emotion, the person will tend to deny and minimize it, backing off from the original statement” (p. 59).
When used intentionally, amplified reflection can feel manipulative. This is why amplified reflection is used along with genuine empathy and never includes sarcasm. Instead of being a manipulative response, it’s the therapist’s effort to deeply empathize with client frustration, anger, and discouragement. The following are amplified reflections. Scenario 1 involves a mother of a child with a disability and her ambivalence over whether she can take any time for self-care:
Client 1: My child has a serious disability, so I have to be home for him.
Therapist 1: You need to be home 24/7 and turn off any needs you might have to get out and take a break.
Client 1: Actually, that’s not totally true. Sometimes, I think I need to take some breaks so I can do a better job when I’m home.
Scenario 2 involves a college student with ambivalence over giving herself the time and space to grieve her grandmother’s death.
Client 2: When my grandmother died last semester, I had to miss classes and it was a total hassle.
Therapist 2: You don’t have much of an emotional response to your grandmother’s death—other than it’s really inconveniencing you.
Client 2: Well, it’s not like I don’t miss her, too.
Amplified reflection is an empathic effort to fully resonate with one side of the client’s ambivalence; it naturally nudges clients the opposite direction.
It’s also possible to use reflection to understate what clients are saying. W. Miller and Rollnick (2013) refer to this as undershooting. They advocate using it to encourage clients to continue exploring their thoughts and feelings:
Client: I can’t stand it when my mom criticizes my friends right in front of me.
Therapist: You find that a little annoying.
Client: It’s way more than annoying. It pisses me off.
Therapist: What exactly pisses you off about your mom criticizing your friends?
Client: It’s because she doesn’t trust me and my judgment.
In this example, the therapist uses an understatement and then an open question to continue exploring what hurts about the mother’s criticism.
Coming Alongside (Using Paradox)
Intentionally undershooting or using amplified reflections are subtle ways to move client talk in particular directions. A less subtle form of this is paradox. Paradox has traditionally involved prescribing the symptom (Frankl, 1967). For example, with a client who is using alcohol excessively, a traditional paradoxical intervention would involve something like, “Maybe you’re not drinking enough.”
Paradox is a high-risk and provocative intervention. We don’t advocate using traditional paradox. Interestingly, Viktor Frankl, who wrote about paradox in the early 1900s, viewed paradox as operating based on humor. It’s as if clients unconsciously or consciously understand the silliness of behaving in a destructive extreme and consequently pull back in the other direction. Frankl’s formulation might be viewed as working with ambivalence in a manner similar to MI.
W. Miller and Rollnick (2013) discuss using paradox to address resistance, but refer to it as coming alongside. Similar to amplified reflection, coming alongside is used with empathy and respect. The difference between amplified reflection and coming alongside is that in the latter the therapist makes a statement instead of a reflection. Here are two examples:
Client 1: I don’t think this is going to work for me, either. I feel pretty hopeless.
Therapist 1: It’s certainly possible that after giving it another try, you still won’t be any better off, so it might be better not to try at all. What’s your inclination?
Client 2: That’s about it, really. I probably drink too much sometimes, and I don’t like the hangovers, but I don’t think it’s that much of a concern, really.
Therapist 2: It may just be worth it to you to keep on drinking as you have, even though it causes some problems. It’s worth the cost.
Using coming alongside requires authentic empathy for the less healthy side of the ambivalence.
W. Miller and Rollnick (2002) commented on the difference between using coming alongside as compared to traditional paradox:
We confess some serious discomfort with the ways in which therapeutic paradox has sometimes been described. There is often the sense of paradox being a clever way of duping people into doing things for their own good. In some writings on paradox, one senses almost a glee in finding innovative ways to trick people without their realizing what is happening. Such cleverness lacks the respectful and collaborative tone that we understand to be fundamental to the dialectical process of motivational interviewing. (p. 107)
Paradoxical techniques should be delivered along with basic person-centered core attitudes of congruence, unconditional positive regard, and empathic understanding. Paradox shouldn’t be used as a clever means to outwit or trick clients, but to explore the alternative outcome out loud with the client and allow them to respond.
Using Emotional Validation, Radical Acceptance, Reframing, and Genuine Feedback
Clients sometimes begin interviews with hostility, anger, or resentment. If clinicians handle these provocations well, clients may open up and cooperate. The key is to keep an accepting attitude and restrain from lecturing, scolding, or retaliating if clients express hostility.
Empathy, emotional validation, acceptance, and concession can elicit cooperation. We often coach graduate students to use concession when power struggles emerge, especially when working with adolescent clients (J. Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 2007b). If a young client opens a session with “I’m not talking and you can’t make me,” conceding power and control can shift the dynamic: “You’re absolutely right. I can’t make you talk, and I definitely can’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.” This statement validates the client’s perspective and concedes an initial victory in what the client might view as a struggle for power. MI therapists refer to this as affirming the client.
Empathic, emotionally validating statements are also important. If clients express anger about you or therapy, a reflection of feeling and/or feeling validation response communicates that you hear their emotional message. In some cases, you can go beyond empathy and emotional validation and join clients with parallel emotional responses:
I don’t blame you for feeling pissed about having to see me.
I hear you saying you don’t trust me, which is totally normal. You don’t know me, and you shouldn’t trust me until you do.
It sucks to have a judge require you to meet with me.
I know we’re being forced to meet, but we’re not being forced to have a bad time together.
Radical acceptance (RA) is a principle and technique based on person-centered theory and dialectical behavior therapy (Görg et al., 2019). RA involves consciously accepting and actively welcoming all client comments—even odd, disturbing, or blatantly provocative comments (J. Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 2007a). Here’s a case where a client began a session with angry statements about counseling:
Opening client volley: I don’t need no stupid-ass counseling. I’m only here because my wife is forcing me. This counseling shit is worthless. It’s for pansy-ass wimps like you who need to sit around and talk rather than doing any real work.
RA return: Wow. Thanks for being so honest about what you’re thinking. Lots of people really hate counseling but just sit here and pretend to cooperate. I really appreciate your telling me exactly where you’re coming from.
RA can be combined with reframing to communicate a deeper understanding about why clients have come for therapy. One version of this is the love reframe (J. Sommers-Flanagan & Barr, 2005).
Client: This is total bullshit. I don’t need counseling. The judge required this. Otherwise, I can’t see my daughter for unsupervised visitation. Let’s just get this over with.
Therapist: You must really love your daughter to come to a meeting you think is bullshit.
Client: (softening) Yeah. I do love my daughter.
The magic of the love reframe is that clients nearly always agree with the positive observation about loving someone. The love reframe shifts the interview to a more pleasant and cooperative focus.
Often, when working with angry or hostile clients, there’s no better approach than reflecting and validating feelings … pausing … and then following with honest feedback and a solution-focused question.
I hear you saying you hate the idea of talking with me. I don’t blame you for that. I’d hate to be forced to talk to a stranger about my personal life too. But can I be honest with you for a minute? [Client nods in assent.] You’re in legal trouble. I want to be helpful—even just a little. We’re stuck meeting together. We can either sit and stare at each other and have a miserable hour, or we can talk about how you might dig yourself out of this legal hole. I can go either way. What do you think … if we have a good meeting today, what would we accomplish?
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The chapter goes on and on from here, including content on dealing with clients who may be delusional, as well as substance abuse interviewing.
Also, if you want more info, here’s a nice article, albeit dated, where Miller and Rollnick write about 10 things that MI is NOT.
In the lasting glow of Saturday’s Mental Health Academy’s annual Suicide Prevention Summit, I discovered 33 new blog followers. We had right around 3,000 for the session, and the chat-based posts were overwhelmingly positive and affirming. One person wrote, “You can use these comments to think about 1,000 good things from today.” The comments were THAT GOOD. I am deeply grateful for the positive feedback and amazing support of my work. Thank-you!
This year I’m embarking, along with Dylan Wright of Families First (thanks Dylan!), on something new, and possibly ill-advised. We’re hosting three Montana Happiness Project interns! My thinking was that because I’m growing long of tooth (haha), I need to begin formally passing on my knowledge and skills to the next generation. Of course, as most of you know, I’ve been passing on information and doing supervision for decades, but in this case, the process is somewhat outside of the University of Montana, and will involve a bit more mentoring. You’ll be hearing about this new wave of Montana Happiness stuff off and on in the coming months.
Here’s the first volley.
To get our interns ready, Dylan and I are creating content. I guess that makes us content creators. Cool. One of our first creations is a Step-by-Step Suicide Assessment Guide. I like to give stuff away, and so I’ve included a pdf of the guide here.
This guide is designed to be used flexibly. Mostly, it’s a knowledge-base (complete with some interesting links) that you can use to frame how you do suicide assessment and safety planning. I hope it’s useful to you in your work.
Today, I’m online doing the final webinar in a three-part series for PacificSource. The PacificSource organizers and participants have been fabulous. Everything has worked smoothly and the participants have engaged with many excellent thoughts and questions. We’ve got 503 registered for today.
Here’s the title and description of today’s webinar.
Strengths-Based Approaches to Management of Patient Suicidality
John Sommers-Flanagan, Ph.D.
Healthcare providers need to do more than conduct suicide assessments; they also need to flow from assessment into providing interventions to help patients move out of crisis and toward greater emotional regulation, hope, and health. In this webinar, using video clips and vignettes, you will learn at least five specific assessment and management interventions designed to help facilitate patient transitions from crisis to constructive problem-solving. These interventions are based on robust suicide theory, clinical wisdom, and empirical evidence on strategies for working effectively with patients who are suicidal.
For anyone interested, here are the ppts for today:
Tomorrow, I’ll be online again with PacificSource, doing Part 2 of a three-part webinar series titled, “Caring for People Who are Suicidal.” Last week we focused on how to talk with people in general about this challenging topic. This week, the focus is on: “Blending Traditional and Strengths-Based Approaches to Suicide Assessment“
I’ll be talking for about an hour, which means we’ll really only quickly graze the topic. Below, for webinar viewers and other interested readers, I’ve posted the ppts, and excerpted the section in our Clinical Interviewing text that focuses on assessing suicide plans, patient impulsivity, suicidal intent, and a bit of information on talking with patients about previous attempts.
Once rapport is established and the client has talked about suicidal ideation, it’s appropriate to explore suicide plans. You can begin with a paraphrase and a question:
You said sometimes you think it would be better for everyone if you were dead. Some people who have similar thoughts also have a suicide plan. Do you have a plan for how you would kill yourself if you decided to follow through on your thoughts?”
Many clients respond to questions about suicide plans with reassurance that they’re not really thinking about acting on their suicidal thoughts; they may cite religion, fear, children, or other reasons for staying alive. Typically, clients say something like “Oh, yeah, I think about suicide sometimes, but I’d never do it. I don’t have a plan.” Of course, sometimes clients will deny having a plan even when they do. However, if clients admit to a plan, further exploration is crucial.
When exploring and evaluating a client’s suicide plan, assess four areas (M. Miller, 1985): (a) specificity of the plan; (b) lethality of the method; (c) availability of the proposed method; and (d) proximity of social or helping resources. These four areas of inquiry are easily recalled with the acronym SLAP.
Specificity
Specificity refers to the details. Has the person thought through details necessary to die by suicide? Some clients describe a clear suicide method, others avoid the question, and still others say something like “Oh, I think it would be easier if I were dead, but I don’t have a plan.”
If your client denies a suicide plan, you have two choices. First, if you believe your client is being honest, you can drop the topic. Alternatively, if you suspect your client has a plan but is reluctant to speak about it, you can use the normalizing frame discussed previously.
You know, most people who have thought about suicide have at least had passing thoughts about how they might do it. What kinds of thoughts have you had about how you would [die by suicide] if you decided to do so? (Wollersheim, 1974, p. 223)
Lethality
Lethality refers to how quickly a suicide plan could result in death. Greater lethality confers greater risk. If you believe your client is a very high suicide risk, you might inquire not simply about your client’s general method (e.g., firearms, toxic overdose, or razor blade), but also about the way the method will be employed. Does your client plan to use aspirin or cyanide? Is the plan to slash their wrists or throat with a razor blade? In both of these examples, the latter alternative is more lethal.
Availability
Availability refers to availability of the means. If clients plan to overdose with a particular medication, check on whether that medication is available. (Keep in mind this sobering thought: Most people keep enough substances in their home medicine cabinets to die by suicide.) To overstate the obvious, if the client is considering suicide by driving a car off a cliff and has neither car nor cliff available, the immediate risk is lower than if the person plans to use a firearm and keeps a loaded gun in an unlocked location.
Proximity
Proximity refers to proximity of social support. How nearby are helping resources? Are other individuals available to intervene and provide rescue if an attempt is made? Does the client live with family or roommates? Is the client’s day spent alone or around people? The further a client is from helping resources, the greater the suicide risk.
If you have an ongoing therapy relationship with clients, you should check in periodically regarding plans. One recommendation is for collaborative reassessment at every session until suicide thoughts, plans, and behaviors are absent in three consecutive sessions (Jobes, 2016).
Assessing Client Self-Control
Asking directly about self-control and observing for agitation, arousal, and impulsivity are the main methods for evaluating client self-control.
Asking Directly
If you want to focus on the positive while asking directly about self-control, you can ask something like this:
What helps you stay in control? Or, What stops you from killing yourself?
If you want to explore the less positive side, you could ask:
Do you ever feel worried that you might lose control and make a suicide attempt?
Exploring both sides of self-control (what helps maintaining self-control and what triggers a loss of self-control) can be therapeutic. This is done together with clients to understand their perception of self-control. Rudd (2014) recommended having clients rate their subjective sense of self control using a 1-10 scale (although we prefer 0-10). When clients are feeling or acting “out of control” hospitalization should be considered. Hospitalization can provide external controls and safety until clients feel more internal control.
Here’s an example of a discussion that shows (a) an interviewer focusing on the client’s fear of losing control and (b) an indirect question leading the client to talk about suicide prevention.
Client: I’m afraid of losing control late at night.
Therapist: Sounds like night is the roughest time.
Client: I hate when I’m awake and alone into the night.
Therapist: So, late at night, you’re sometimes afraid you’ll lose control and kill yourself. What has helped keep you from doing it.
Client: I think of how my kids would feel when they couldn’t get me to wake up. I can’t even think of that.
A brief verbal exchange, such as this, isn’t a final determination of safety or risk. However, this client’s children are a mitigating factor that may help with self-control.
Observing for Arousal/Agitation
Arousal and agitation are contemporary terms used to describe what Shneidman originally referred to as perturbation. Perturbation is the inner push that drives individuals toward suicidal acts. Arousal and agitation are underlying components of several other risk factors, such as akathisia associated with SSRI medications, psychomotor agitation in bipolar disorder, and command hallucinations in schizophrenia.
Arousal or agitation adversely affect self-control. Unfortunately, systematic methods for evaluating arousal are lacking. This leaves clinicians to rely on five approaches to assessing arousal, agitation, and impulsivity:
Subjective observation of client increased psychomotor activity (as in an MSE)
Client self-disclosure of feeling unsettled, unusually overactive, or impulse ridden (often accompanied by statements like, “I need to do something”)
Questionnaire responses or scale scores indicating agitation
A history of agitation-related suicide gestures or attempts
Clients report impulsivity around aggression and/or substance use
Assessing Suicide Intent
Suicide intent is defined as how much an individual wants to die by suicide. Suicide intent can be evaluated via clinical interview (Lindh et al., 2020), standardized questionnaire (e.g., the Beck Suicide Intent Scale, Beck et al., 1974), or after completed suicides. When evaluated after suicide deaths, higher suicide intent is linked to lethality of means, more extensive planning, and a negative reaction to surviving the act.
Assessing suicide intent prior to potential attempts is challenging. In an interview, the question can be placed on a scale and asked directly:
On a scale from 0 to 10, with 0 being you’re absolutely certain you want to die and 10 that you’re absolutely certain you want to live, how would you rate yourself right now?
Suicide intent is also related to suicide planning; that means when you’re evaluating suicide plans, you’re also evaluating suicide intent. More specificity and lethality in planning is linked to intent. Overall, standardized questionnaires and clinical interviews are equivalent in their predictive accuracy (Lindh et al., 2020).
Obtaining detailed information about previous attempts is important from a medical-diagnostic-predictive perspective, but less important from a constructive perspective, where the focus is on the present and future. Whether to explore past attempts or to stay focused on the positive is a dialectical problem in suicide assessment protocols. On the one hand, suicide scheduling, rehearsal, experimental action, and preoccupation indicate greater risk and, therefore, are valuable information (Rudd, 2014). On the other hand, to some extent, detailed questioning about intent, plans, and past attempts reinforces client preoccupation with suicide and suicide planning.
Balance and collaboration are recommended. As you inquire about intent, continue to integrate positively oriented questions into your protocol:
How do you distract yourself from your thoughts about suicide?
As you think about suicide, what other thoughts spontaneously come into your mind that make you want to live?
Now that we’ve talked about your plan for suicide, can we talk about a plan for life?
What strengths or inner resources do you tap into to fight back those suicidal thoughts?
Eventually you may reach the point where directly asking about and exploring previous attempts is needed.
Exploring Previous Attempts
Previous attempts are considered the strongest of all suicide predictors (Franklin et al., , 2017). Information about previous attempts is usually obtained through the client’s medical-psychological records or an intake form, or while discussing depressive symptoms during a clinical interview (see Case Example 10.2). It’s also possible that you won’t have information about previous attempts, but you decide to ask directly:
Have there been any times when you were so down and hopeless that you tried to kill yourself?
Once you have or obtain information about a previous attempt or attempts, you have a responsibility to acknowledge and explore it, even if only via a solution-focused question.
You’ve tried suicide before, but you’re here with me now . . . What has helped?
If you’re working with a client who’s severely depressed, it’s not unusual for your solution-focused question to elicit a response like this:
Nothing helped. Nothing ever helps.
One error clinicians often make at this point is to venture into a yes-no questioning process about what might help or what might have helped in the past. If you’re working with someone who is extremely depressed and experiencing the problem-solving deficit of mental constriction, your client will respond in the negative and insist that nothing ever has helped and that nothing ever will help. Encountering a negative response set requires a different assessment approach. Even severely depressed clients can, if given the opportunity, acknowledge that every attempt to address depression and suicidality isn’t equally bad. Using a continuum where severely depressed and mentally constricted clients can rank intervention strategies (instead of a series of yes-no questions) is a better approach:
Therapist: It sounds like you’ve tried many different things to help you through your depressed feelings and suicidal thoughts. Of all the things you’ve tried and all the ideas that professionals like me have recommended, which one has been the worst?
Client: The meds were the worst. They made me feel like I was already dead inside.
Therapist: Okay. Let’s put meds down as the worst option you’ve experienced so far. So, which one was a little less bad than the meds?
Instead of asking the client “What worked best?” and getting a bleak depressive response, the therapist asked which therapeutic recommendation had been “the worst?” Focusing on what’s worst resonates with the negative emotional state of depressed clients. Identifying the most worthless of all therapeutic strategies is more likely to produce a response and you can build from there to strategies that are “a little less bad.” Later in the interview process, you can add new ideas that you suggest or that the client suggests and put them in their appropriate place on the continuum. When this strategy works, it produces a list of ideas (some new and some old) for potential homework and experimentation (see also Sommers-Flanagan & Sommers-Flanagan, 2021).
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As I read through the preceding excerpt, I realize there’s so much more that could be covered. For more info, we also have our strengths-based suicide assessment book, which you can find online through different booksellers. Just search for our name and strengths-based suicide assessment to find a plethora of resources, many of which are free.
When I wrote this, I was listening to Dr. Jennifer Crumlish, a consultant for the CAMS-Care program. Dr. Crumlish provided a fantastic overview of the challenges associated with suicide prevention and interventions, along with introductory information pertaining to implementing the CAMS model. For more on CAMS-Care, see this link: https://cams-care.com/
Earlier in the day, Leah Finch—one of our excellent doc students in counseling—and I, did our presentation. Our participants were awesome. A bit later, I got to be on an “expert panel” along with several very cool people, facilitated by Dr. Jen Preble. We fielded an array of interesting questions from the audience. Very fun.
For those of you interested, here are the ppts Leah and I developed, here they are:
I’m continuing with the theme of featuring diverse identities from the Clinical Interviewing (7th edition) textbook with a case example written by Dr. Umit Arslan. Dr. Arslan is writing about his experience as an international graduate student in counseling, when he was at the University of Montana. Currently, he’s a faculty member at the University of Nebraska-Kearney.
The photo is from when I visited him in Istanbul in January, 2023.
Enjoy!
As you’ll see below, Umit’s experience was unique. Given his Turkish heritage and cultural background, he needed to reflect and engage in a self-awareness process to experiment with finding a better way to introduce himself to clients. What I love most about this essay is Umit’s authentic description of his own experience. His answer to a better way to introduce himself won’t be the right answer for everyone. But his process is open and admirable.
CASE EXAMPLE 2.2: BEING A COUNSELOR FIRST . . . AND TURKISH SECOND, WORKED BETTER THAN BEING TURKISH FIRST . . . AND A COUNSELOR SECOND
Finding the right words and ways to introduce yourself is important. In this essay, Ümüt Arslan, Ph.D., an associate professor of counseling at İzmir Democracy University (Turkey), writes about challenges he faced as an international doctoral student in counseling at the University of Montana. Put yourself in Dr. Arslan’s shoes as he discovers (for him) a better way of introducing himself.
While pursuing my doctoral degree in the U.S., my supervisor and I discussed how to share my cultural identity and accent to clients. When I shared, my clients were not only interested in my appearance and accent, but also about my diet, coffee preferences, job, and of course, about my native country, Turkey. But they were reluctant to talk about themselves.
Clients assumed I was Muslim and against alcohol. Their assumptions were especially challenging because they were inaccurate. I was not religious, and like many Americans, I enjoyed having a beer after work. I wanted to challenge clients’ assumptions about my identity, but worried about countertransference and focusing too much on myself.
One cisgender female client came for an intake interview. She saw me, grabbed her bag (almost the size of a camping tent), and put it on her knees. I couldn’t see her face. I told her she could put the bag down if she wanted to. She declined.
When I re-watched this and other sessions, the striking thing was that my clients (mostly White) appeared stressed at the sight of me, a bearded Turkish man with dark skin. They didn’t even talk about the problems they had written on their intake form. My identity as a Turkish man overshadowed everything else. I needed a path forward.
In class, my supervisor discussed alternative ways to open sessions. I tried asking clients: “If you were the counselor today, what question would you ask yourself?” Clients suddenly engaged with me, giving deep and enthusiastic answers to their own questions. I stopped opening sessions by emphasizing cultural differences. Instead, I focused on my counselor identity, saying: “I completed my master’s degree and am currently a doctoral student. What do you think is the best question for me to ask you for us to have a good start here today?”The message, “I am here with my counselor identity” instead of “I’m a Turkish man in the U.S., and desperate to explain my culture to you,” had an amazing effect. Using a less cultural opening was more culturally sensitive. Clients could naturally introduce their own cultural identities, with fewer assumptions about me. Although I could still talk about culture, emphasizing my counselor identity enabled me to focus on counseling goals, the therapeutic relationship, and evidence-based counseling interventions.
While doing supervision today, I found myself encouraging my supervisee to be more direct, to embrace his knowledge and his good judgment, and to share his knowledge and judgment with his client. This is an interesting (and perhaps surprising) stance for me to take, because, as some of you know very well, I lean hard toward Rogerian theory. I’m a fan of honoring clients’ expertise and of Carl Rogers’s words that it is “the client who knows what hurts and where to go.”
As I age (more like fine wine, and not like moldy bananas, I hope), one truth I keep feeling is that nearly everything is both-and—not either-or. Yes, I believe deeply in the naturally therapeutic process of person-centered theory and therapy; providing clients with that “certain type of environment” will facilitate self-discovery and personal growth. On the other hand, sometimes clients need guidance. In my supervision case earlier today, my point was that the client was a very long way away from deeper personal insights. That meant my supervisee needed to loan the client his good judgment and decision-making skills. As you may recognize, “loaning clients our healthy egos” is psychoanalytic language. Nevertheless, the guidance I offered my supervisee was to engage in some CBT coaching
All this reminded me of a section I updated in the 7th edition of Clinical Interviewing. The section is titled, “Client as Expert” and I’ve excerpted it below. It captures the essence of honoring client wisdom, which, IMHO, should always precede more directive interventions.
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Client as Expert
Clients are the best experts on themselves and their experiences. This is so obvious that it seems odd to mention, but sometimes therapists can get wrapped up in their expertness and usurp the client’s personal authority. Although idiosyncratic and sometimes factually inaccurate, clients’ stories and explanations about themselves and their lives are internally valid and should be respected.
CASE EXAMPLE 1.1: GOOD INTENTIONS
In one case, I (John) became preoccupied about convincing a 19-year-old client—who had been diagnosed years ago with bipolar disorder—that she wasn’t really “bipolar” anymore. Despite my good intentions (I thought the young woman would be better off without a bipolar label), there was something important for her about holding on to a bipolar identity. As a “psychological expert,” I believed it obscured her many strengths with a label that diminished her personhood. Therefore, I encouraged her to change her belief system. I told her that she didn’t meet the diagnostic criteria for bipolar disorder, but I was unsuccessful in convincing her to give up the label.
What’s clear about this case is that, although I was the diagnostic authority in the room, I couldn’t change the client’s viewpoint. She wanted to keep calling herself bipolar. Maybe that was a good thing for her. Maybe that label offered her solace? Perhaps she felt comfort in a label that helped her explain her behavior to herself. Perhaps she never will let go of the bipolar label. Perhaps I’m the one who needed to accept that as a helpful outcome.
[End of Case Example 1.1]
In recent years, practitioners from many theoretical perspectives have become outspoken about the need for expert therapists to take a backseat to their clients’ lived experiences. Whether you’re working online or face-to-face, several evidence-based approaches emphasize respect for the clients’ perspective and collaboration (David et al., 2022). These include progress monitoring, client-informed outcomes, and therapeutic assessment (Martin, 2020; Meier, 2015).
When your expert opinion conflicts with your client’s perspective, it’s good practice to defer to your client, at least initially. Over time, you’ll need your client’s expertise in the room as much as your own. If clients are unwilling to share their expertise and experiences, you’ll lose some of your potency as a helper.
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So, what’s today’s big takeaway? We start with and maintain great respect for the client’s expertise. . . and then we either stay more person-centered (or psychoanalytic) or collaboratively shift toward providing more direction and guidance. And the big question is: How do we determine whether to stay less directive or become more directive?
If you feel so inclined, let me know your thoughts on that big question.
The 7th edition of Clinical Interviewing became available earlier this year. As a part of the text revision, we updated the accompanying videos, videos that Victor Yalom of Psychotherapy.net considers to be the best of their kind. And, possibly having watched more professional training videos than anyone on the planet, Victor knows what he’s talking about, and we are humbled by his endorsement.
Videos that accompany the text cover 72 learning objectives and are extensive. The bad news is that they usually, but not always, feature me. The good news is that in our video revision and upgrade, we included numerous counselors/psychotherapists of color. . . so it’s not just all me talking about how to develop your clinical interviewing skills.
If you watch them, I hope you enjoy the videos. And, if you feel so moved, please share your reactions or suggestions with me here or via email: john.sf@mso.umt.edu.
Most people intuitively know that emotions are a central, complex, and multidimensional part of human experience. Emotions are typically in response to perceptions, include sensations, and are at the root of much of our existential meaning-making. Emotions are at the heart (not literally, of course) of much of the motivation that underlies behavior.
What follows is another excerpt from Clinical Interviewing (7th edition). In this excerpt, we define and explore the use of an interpretive reflection of feeling as a tool to go deeper into emotion and meaning with clients. As with all things interpretive, I recommend proceeding with caution, respect, and humility. . . because sometimes clients aren’t interested in going deeper and will push back in one way or another.
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Interpretive Reflection of Feeling (aka Advanced Empathy)
Interpretive reflections of feeling are emotion-focused statements that go beyond obvious emotional expressions. Sometimes referred to as advanced empathy (Egan, 2014), interpretive reflection of feeling is based on Rogers’s (1961) idea that sometimes person-centered therapists work on emotions that are barely within or just outside the client’s awareness.
By design, interpretive reflections of feeling go deeper than surface feelings or emotions, uncovering underlying emotions and potentially producing insight (i.e., the client becomes aware of something that was previously unconscious or partially conscious). Nondirective reflections of feeling focus on obvious, clear, and surface emotions; in contrast, interpretive reflections target partially hidden, deeper emotions.
Consider again the 15-year-old boy who was so angry with his teacher.
Client: That teacher pissed me off big time when she accused me of stealing her phone. I wanted to punch her.
Counselor: You were pretty pissed off. (reflection of feeling)
Client: Damn right.
Counselor: I also sense that you have other feelings about what your teacher did. Maybe you were hurt because she didn’t trust you. (interpretive reflection of feeling)
The counselor’s second statement probes deeper feelings that the client didn’t directly articulate.
An interpretive reflection of feeling may activate client defensiveness. Interpretations require good timing (Fenichel, 1945; Freud, 1949). That’s why, in the preceding example, the counselor initially used a nondirective reflection of feeling and then, after that reflection was affirmed, used a more interpretive response. W. R. Miller and Rollnick (2002) made this point in Motivational Interviewing:
Skillful reflection moves past what the person has already said, though not jumping too far ahead. The skill is not unlike the timing of interpretations in psychodynamic psychotherapy. If the person balks, you know you’ve jumped too far, too fast. (p. 72)
Interpretive reflections of feeling assume clients will benefit from going “vertical” or deeper into understanding underlying emotions; they can have many effects, the most prominent include the following:
If offered prematurely or without a good rationale, they may feel foreign or uncomfortable; this discomfort can lead to client resistance, reluctance, denial, or a relationship rupture (Parrow, 2023).
When well stated and when a positive therapy relationship exists, interpretive reflections of feeling may feel supportive because therapists are “hearing” clients at deeper emotional levels; this can lead to enhanced therapist credibility, strengthening of the therapeutic relationship, and collaborative pursuit of insight.
Interpretive reflections of feeling are naturally invasive. That’s why timing and a good working alliance are essential. When using interpretive reflections of feeling, follow these principles.
Wait until:
You have good rapport or a positive working alliance.
Your clients have experienced you accurately hearing and reflecting their surface emotions.
You have evidence (e.g., nonverbal signals, previous client statements) that provide a reasonable foundation for your interpretation.
Phrase your interpretive statement:
Tentatively (e.g., “If I were to guess, I’d say…”)
Collaboratively (e.g., “Correct me if I’m wrong, but…”)
The need to phrase statements tentatively and collaboratively is equally true when using any form of feedback or interpretation. Many different phrasings can be used to make such statements more acceptable.
I think I’m hearing that you’d like to speak directly to your father about your sexuality, but you’re afraid of his response.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like your anxiety in this relationship is based on a deeper belief that she’ll eventually discover you’re unlovable.
If I were to guess, I’d say you’re wishing you could find your way out of this relationship. Does that fit?
This may not be accurate, but the way you’re sitting seems to communicate not only sadness but also some irritation.
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I hope this content has been of some interest or use to you in your work. If you want a bit more, a couple of emotion-related case examples are at the link below (and you can always buy the book:)).
John Sommers-Flanagan 