In my CPCAB Level 2 counselling training, we rotate roles in what’s known as counselling triads, where we put our skills into practice with our peers.
Helper.
Helpee.
Observer.
I knew the helper role would be uncomfortable — being watched while you practice, while your skills still forming — and then receiving feedback from your peers and tutor.
What I didn’t expect was how challenging the helpee seat would be.
Because as a long-term expat like my clients, the low-grade hum of my “braced” nervous system can show up in the room with me.
The first time I was assigned the role of helpee, I chose something manageable. Something I’d already processed. Something I had language for.
Within a few minutes, my peer asked a question that went somewhere else entirely.
And I noticed — before I’d consciously decided anything — the impulse to reassure them. To signal that I was fine, that I had this handled, that they didn’t need to worry.
I’m okay.
I know what this is.
I’ve got this.
They hadn’t asked me to manage their response. I just did it anyway.
I’d closed the door I opened.
Later, watching myself in the helper role, I noticed the other version of the same thing.
Navigating the session imperfectly — which is expected, which is the point — and running a quiet commentary alongside it the entire time.
That could have been better.
You missed something there.
More of this, less of that.
Because this is my brain’s default mode in my adopted country.