What do we bring into the room?

A message to fellow health professionals

I have been reflecting on what we bring into a consultation beyond our professional knowledge. Our expectations, our discomfort, our need to have an answer, and our beliefs about what recovery should look like all come into the room with us.

As I work through Stefanie Faye’s neuroscience education, I keep considering these ideas through my work with people experiencing anorexia. Particularly, how do we respond when someone is distressed by the very intervention we are recommending?

Nutritional rehabilitation can be frightening. Asking someone to eat more, change familiar patterns or move towards a body they fear can bring considerable distress. As health professionals, we need to accept that this will happen and develop the capacity to work with it.

That requires some honest reflection on ourselves.

When a client becomes upset, what happens to my recommendation? Do I remain clear about why it matters? Do I begin negotiating it away? Do I explain more and more because I need them to agree with me? Do I become frustrated, defensive or unusually reassuring?

Whose discomfort am I trying to relieve in that moment?

These questions can be uncomfortable. They ask us to examine the relationship between what we know, what we say we believe, and what we actually do.

For me, this is a question of professional integrity.

Integrity involves being willing to examine whether our actions are consistent with our knowledge and responsibilities. It includes recognising when our own fears, assumptions or need to be liked are influencing the care we offer.

It also means examining our knowledge itself. Where did this understanding come from? How current is it? Am I presenting an interpretation as an established fact? Can I explain the limits of what I know as clearly as I explain what I feel confident about?

Our clients hear our words through their own experiences. A recommendation intended as supportive may feel dismissive. A tentative suggestion may be heard as permission to avoid something necessary. Confidence may reassure one person and overwhelm another.

We need to ask how our message has been understood. Our intention is only part of the interaction.

There is also integrity in saying, “I do not know.”

We can say, “I do not have the answer to that today. I will look into it.” We can recognise that a question needs another professional’s expertise and explain how we will help connect that care.

The responsibility continues after we acknowledge the limit. If we promise to find something out, we need to follow through. If we refer on, we need to be clear about what we can continue to offer and what requires someone else’s involvement.

We do not have to fix the entire problem to make a meaningful contribution.

That can be difficult to accept when we care deeply about someone’s recovery. We may feel pulled to become constantly available, answer every question or take responsibility for every setback. Over time, that can create expectations we cannot sustain.

Boundaries help make our support clear and dependable. They describe our role, our availability, how decisions will be made and what happens when more support is needed. They also require us to communicate honestly when the current arrangement is no longer enough.

Within those boundaries, we can remain warm, involved and compassionate.

We can acknowledge that eating feels frightening while continuing to explain why nourishment is necessary. We can listen carefully without agreeing with every conclusion.

We can stay alongside distress without promising to remove it.

This is where co-regulation interests me: how my pace, tone, responses and ability to remain present shape the encounter. I want to notice when I am becoming reactive, pause when I need to, and repair misunderstandings when they happen.

The questions I am taking into my own practice are these:

Am I willing to question what I think I know?

Can I tolerate someone’s distress while continuing to offer appropriate care?

Can I acknowledge uncertainty without abandoning my responsibility?

Can I recognise the limits of my role and still remain engaged?

And can I offer support that is both compassionate and clear enough to be relied upon?