A Story of Connection in Online Counseling Supervision

The quiet sound of the Zoom chime brought Dr. Rose Martin’s attention back to her computer screen. She clicked “Admit” and watched as Anna’s face appeared. Anna was a dedicated and thoughtful counselor-in-training, but today, her usual energy was subdued.

“Hey, Anna,” Rose began, her voice calm, sensing the weight in the air between them. “How are you today?”

Anna shifted in her seat, pushing her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I’m… not sure. It’s been a tough week. I’ve been thinking about one client a lot — maybe too much. And it’s starting to feel like something’s getting in the way of my ability to work with her.”

Rose’s brow furrowed slightly, leaning into the conversation. “It sounds like this client is having a strong emotional impact on you. Do you feel comfortable telling me a little more about what’s going on?”

Anna took a deep breath. “She’s a young woman in her mid-20s, and she’s been talking a lot about her anxiety — how lonely and overwhelmed she feels. It’s all I can do not to feel the same way when I’m with her. Honestly, it reminds me too much of a time in my own life when I was struggling in similar ways. I find myself thinking about her outside of sessions, and I worry that I’m getting too caught up in her emotions. Like, it’s not just about her anymore.”

Rose nodded, taking in the vulnerability of what Anna was sharing. “That sounds like a heavy experience. I hear that you’re feeling a strong connection between her story and your own past, and it’s bringing up some concerns about how to hold space for her without getting overwhelmed by your own emotions. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Anna said, her voice quiet but steady. “I feel like I’m losing perspective. I don’t want to project my own stuff onto her, but it’s hard when it feels so personal.”

Rose took a moment before responding, allowing the silence to hold for just a breath. “What you’re describing is such an important aspect of our work — countertransference. It’s what happens when our own experiences are activated by our client’s story. But what I want to focus on today is how we can engage with this, not as something to push away, but as something that can deepen your understanding of both yourself and your client.”

Anna nodded, her brow still furrowed. “I get that in theory, but in practice, it feels messy. I just want to be there for her, and it’s hard when it feels like I’m getting pulled back into my own stuff.”

Rose leaned in slightly, her voice steady but gentle. “I hear you. It can feel like a balancing act between being present for the client and not losing ourselves in the process. In Relational-Cultural Theory, we view these kinds of emotional responses as an opportunity for growth — for both you and the client. The connection you’re feeling isn’t something to fear, but rather something to explore. How do you feel about getting into it a bit more deeply today?”

Anna exhaled, seeming relieved to be given permission to explore this complexity. “I think I need that. But I’m not sure where to start.”

“Let’s try something a little different,” Rose suggested, her tone thoughtful. “Sometimes words can’t capture everything we’re feeling. I’ve found that using creative tools — like digital art — can help bring clarity. How would you feel about using a digital canvas to map out some of the emotions and connections that are surfacing for you?”

Anna blinked, surprised but intrigued. “I’ve never done anything like that in supervision, but I’m open to it.”

Rose shared a link to an online art tool. “There’s no right or wrong way to do this. Just let yourself draw whatever comes up when you think about your client and the emotions that are coming into the room with you.”

Anna opened the link, and the blank digital canvas filled her screen. She hesitated for a moment, then began to draw — soft, slow strokes at first, creating disconnected shapes. Gradually, the shapes formed into two figures, one larger than the other, their arms outstretched but not quite touching. She added darker shadows around the larger figure, and then a vibrant, almost chaotic energy surrounding the smaller one.

“This is me and my client,” Anna explained after a pause, her voice quieter now, more introspective. “I’m trying to reach out to her, to help her. But the more I try, the more it feels like I’m getting pulled into her energy — her fear, her isolation. And it’s familiar. Too familiar.”

Rose studied the drawing on the shared screen, then spoke carefully. “What strikes me about this image is the space between you and your client. It’s almost as if the connection is there, but it’s also a source of tension — like you’re reaching for her, but at the same time, you’re wary of being consumed by her energy.”

Anna’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen, her expression deepening. “Yeah… that’s it. I’m afraid if I get too close, I’ll lose myself in it. I thought I had worked through a lot of my own stuff, but being with her makes it feel like it’s all coming back.”

Rose nodded slowly. “This is the part of supervision where we allow ourselves to hold both truths — your desire to help, and the part of you that feels vulnerable in the process. RCT teaches us that we grow through connection, but also that we need to be attuned to our own boundaries. You’re feeling the pull of your past, but we can work to create a bridge between your experiences and hers that helps both of you, rather than drains you.”

Anna added a dark line between the figures on the canvas, drawing it again and again until it became a heavy, bold barrier. “This… this line is what I’ve been trying to put between us. But now that I see it, it feels like too much. Like I’m cutting her off. And maybe myself too.”

Rose let the silence linger for a moment, allowing the weight of what Anna had just created to settle. “There’s power in seeing that line for what it is. What would it feel like to soften it? Not to erase it completely, but to create a boundary that’s permeable — where you can feel connected without losing yourself in her pain.”

Anna’s hand hovered over the canvas for a moment before she gently blurred the line, turning it into a softer shade. “I think that’s what I need,” she said quietly. “A way to be close, but not overwhelmed. I’m realizing now that the harder I try to keep her pain out, the more trapped I feel.”

Rose smiled, a subtle but genuine expression. “This is the heart of RCT, Anna. It’s not about distancing yourself from difficult emotions, but about finding ways to stay connected while also caring for yourself. You don’t have to choose between your client’s needs and your own — they can coexist. And you can grow from this, as much as she can.”

Anna stared at the now-softened line on the canvas, the figures still close but with space to breathe. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. I guess I was so focused on protecting myself that I didn’t see how it was affecting the work.”

Rose nodded. “That’s the wisdom of countertransference — it’s an invitation. Not just to understand your client, but to understand yourself. And through that understanding, you can build a relationship that is both empathic and boundaried, one that nurtures both of you.”

Anna looked up from the canvas, her expression thoughtful but lighter. “This helped. More than I expected. I think I know how to approach my next session now.”

“I’m glad,” Rose said. “And just know, this is an ongoing process. Supervision is the space where we can keep exploring these moments together. We’re both growing in this relationship, and I’m here with you as we navigate these waters.”

Anna smiled, a genuine but quiet gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Martin. I feel… clearer. Not fixed, but clearer.”

Rose nodded once more. “That’s the work.”