Letting Someone Else In: The Limits of Self-Supervision 

“You seem to do a lot of self-supervision” This is a comment I got from my first clinical supervisor. At the time, I took it as a compliment. Yes, I’m really good at talking to myself, and I’m very smart, an exemplary student counsellor, so self-reliant that I don’t even need help processing my practice. Ah, the arrogance of my younger self.

Now, I realise that probably wasn’t actually a compliment; not exactly criticism either. It was an observation.

I was, and still am, very good at self-monitoring, ruminating, over-analysing, and intellectualising. I have spent my entire life trying to understand what is happening around me through observation and analysis. It is one of my strengths: why I did well at school, why I chose the fields of study I did, and why I have worked in the areas I have.

But do you notice what is missing?

This all goes on inside my head. In those early days of supervision, and still to an extent now, I only verbalised my process once I had completed it. I’d like to think my logic was usually pretty sound, but that isn’t the best use of supervision.

My recent journey towards an ADHD diagnosis also illuminated something I hadn’t always been aware of: my tendency to intellectualise is partly a survival mechanism. It helped me gain a sense of control when the world outside and inside felt chaotic. Analysing the world was often easier than connecting with what was going on inside myself.

Supervision is a relational experience. My supervisor isn’t there just to listen to my conclusions; they are there to offer new perspectives, to widen my vision, and to point towards doors I can’t see on my own.

Self-reflection is important, but you need to let someone else into it.

If you don’t, you run the risk of never growing and of continuing unhelpful practices. And if you are anything like me, that inner voice isn’t always the most supportive or encouraging one, especially if it has been built from shame.