Things I’ve Learned by Watching CNS Candidates: Finding Space in Session
We’re kicking off a new Clinician’s Incubator blog series called Things I’ve Learned by Watching Supervision.
Over the last two months, I’ve had the privilege of observing many CNS candidates in Signature Supervision conduct client sessions. It’s been amazing to watch them grow, stretch, and slowly come into their own as clinicians. These sessions are a gold mine of insight into what it really takes to become confident and effective in clinical practice.
Each post in this series will explore a small but meaningful lesson I’ve learned from watching candidates work with clients—the patterns I see, the questions they ask, the places they hesitate, and the moments when something clicks.
Today, we’re starting with one universal truth: every single candidate I met with said they were nervous in session.
And yet, when I watch the videos, I rarely see visible evidence of that nervousness. From the outside, most sessions look grounded and calm. Clients are engaged, candidates are thoughtful and professional.
But internally? I know that most of you are holding your breath a little, wondering what your client will say next, hoping you’ll know the right thing to say in response.
I can almost see it—the mental gears turning when something unexpected happens. The moment a client shares something vulnerable, or asks a question you didn’t see coming. You can see the candidate’s eyes flicker for a second as their brain races: What do I say? How do I respond?
And often, when that happens, something very human takes over: the desire to talk more.
When We Get Nervous, We Fill the Space
This is one of the most common patterns I see in early supervision: when uncertainty hits, many candidates respond by leaning into education.
You might recognize the instinct. The client says something that throws you, and before you’ve had a chance to process it, you hear yourself explaining the science of cortisol or describing the role of magnesium.
Education becomes a kind of safety blanket—it’s what we know. It gives us something to do with the discomfort of not knowing what to say.
But sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do in that moment isn’t to talk—it’s to create space.
“I’d invite you to find ways to create more space for yourself.”
I’ve said some version of that sentence in nearly every supervision debrief I’ve ever led.
Creating space doesn’t mean saying nothing. It means giving your nervous system time to regulate so you can respond thoughtfully, rather than reactively. It’s about making room for your own mind to catch up—and for the client’s nervous system to settle, too.
So how do we do that in real time, when a client’s words surprise us and our heart rate jumps into overdrive?
Let’s look at two examples.
Example 1: The Power of Counting Before You Respond
In one of my recent client sessions, the client began crying and said, “I don’t want to eat at all.”
I froze for just a second. I knew the client’s history included a restrictive eating disorder. If you had watched the session, I’m sure you could have felt my mind racing: Is she relapsing? What do I do? What should I say?
And everything in me wanted to “fix it.”
When a client says something that triggers alarm in us, our nervous system jumps to “fix it” mode. We want to make it better, to say something that soothes or solves or stops the discomfort.
But I also knew that this particular client often needed silence to process before they could speak again. So in that moment, I had to internally coach myself: Don’t rush in. Count to eight.
If she hadn’t said anything by eight, I planned to gently re-engage. But as I reached six, she took a breath, looked up, and said something beautiful—something that completely reframed our next steps.
If I had jumped in sooner, I would have interrupted that moment.
Sometimes, giving space is as practical as counting silently in your head. It gives your body something to focus on while your mind catches up. It keeps you from filling the silence out of anxiety. And it tells your client, wordlessly, “I’m here. I can hold this with you.”
Example 2: Buying Space When You Need to Speak
Silence is powerful, but there are also moments when we do need to respond—especially when a client asks a direct question or offers a comment that requires clarification or feedback.
In those moments, we can still create space verbally.
Here are a few of my favorite go-to phrases:
“Tell me more about that.”
“Can you say that again in different words?”
“Tell me more about why that question is coming up for you right now.”
“This is my thinking face” (said so we give the client information that we’ll be thinking silently for a bit)
Each of these gives the client the floor for a moment longer, while giving you time to gather your thoughts. They signal curiosity, not defensiveness. They slow the tempo of the session just enough for your nervous system to breathe.
You’ll find your own language for this. Some clinicians say, “I want to make sure I understand what you mean,” or “That’s an interesting point—can we unpack it a bit?” The wording doesn’t matter as much as the intention: to give yourself a beat before diving in.
Creating space isn’t just a self-soothing tactic, it’s an essential clinical skill.
When you rush to respond, you often end up talking at the client rather than with them. You move from collaboration to performance, and that subtle shift can disconnect you from what’s actually happening in the room.
Space allows the client to reveal more. It lets patterns emerge. It gives you time to sense what’s underneath the surface of their words, the tone, the pacing, the emotion.
It also models regulation. Clients feel it when you take a breath before responding. They sense the steadiness. It helps them feel safer.
Finding Your Own Language
As you continue your clinical training, I encourage you to experiment with this idea of creating space. Notice what happens in your body when you feel surprised or uncertain. Do your shoulders tense? Do you talk faster? Do you start explaining more?
Then, try building in a micro-pause. Maybe it’s counting silently to eight. Maybe it’s taking a sip of water. Maybe it’s one of the “tell me more” phrases above.
Find what feels natural for you—because the best clinicians don’t all sound the same. The goal isn’t perfect composure. It’s awareness.
Every one of you will have those moments in session when your brain scrambles for the next step. That’s normal. It means you care.
The work is learning to pause before filling the space, to trust that silence can be healing, and to believe that you don’t have to have all the answers right away.
Because often, the most powerful thing you can do for a client is the simplest: stay present long enough to let them find the answer themselves.
What are your thoughts? Drop a comment or share this with a colleague who’s on the same path.
– Meg