Intuition in Session: Why I Sometimes Share My Felt Sense

In sessions, I sometimes share something that doesn’t come from a textbook or a technique. It comes from a quieter place—a flicker of intuition, a felt sense in my body, a human hunch.

When I do, I try to always preface it with something like:

“This could be just me… I could be wrong…”

Because I might be wrong. And because your truth matters more than mine.

Why I Offer It

I don’t use intuition to diagnose, define, or direct. I offer it to invite exploration. When I say something like, “I’m noticing a feeling in me that’s responding to what you’re saying,” I’m not offering a conclusion—I’m offering a reflection from the relational field.

Sometimes, when someone is tangled in thinking or unsure whether they’re allowed to feel what they feel, a gentle, attuned reflection can be a way to anchor what’s already stirring inside. It’s not about persuading. It’s about validating that quiet inner sense that may not yet have words.

Felt sense is not the same as personal reaction. It doesn’t come from urgency or the need to be right. It arises from grounded presence—from listening with the whole body, not just the ears. If I’m activated, I pause. If I’m regulated, I may share—gently, and without attachment.

Power, Transparency, and Trust

I’m deeply interested in the power dynamics that can show up in therapy—especially for those who’ve had experiences of being overly influenced or idealizing therapists in ways that later felt unsafe.

That’s why I name my sense clearly, hold it lightly, and always welcome disagreement. If something I say doesn’t land, we talk about it—not as rupture, but as part of the work.

My goal is to stay in honest relationship, not to occupy authority.

The Somatic Frame

Because I work somatically, I’m attuned not only to words, but to breath, posture, tone, and nervous system cues. I track how the body responds to what’s being said and what’s being felt.

I also work with parts—archetypal, developmental, and protective—and I’ve found that intuitive reflections sometimes help bring awareness to blended states or survival strategies in real time. They help create space for the self beneath the pattern to reemerge.

Before I offer anything, I check in with myself:

Is this grounded? Is it about the client’s process—not mine?

If the answer isn’t clear, I stay quiet.

Red Flags and Restraint

There are moments when I feel something strongly—but it’s not mine to say. Maybe it’s a valid cue, but it’s about me, not the client. Maybe it needs to be metabolized privately or brought into supervision.
Intuition in therapy doesn’t mean saying everything I sense. It means honoring what serves the space and what doesn’t.

The Science of Resonance

Interpersonal neurobiology uses the word resonance to describe how we sense each other before language even begins—through facial expression, tone, timing, and subtle shifts in physiology.

What I call intuition is a form of resonance. It’s not mystical—it’s deeply human.

A Collaborative Process

I aim to co-create a space that is steady, relational, and real. I’m not here to fix you, lead you, or get it “right.” I’m here to be present. Attuned. Boundaried.

When I share something intuitive, it’s never to replace your truth—it’s to help clear the fog around it.

And if you ever say, “That doesn’t feel true for me”—that’s not a problem.
That’s the work.

I’m not here to be your savior or your villain. I’m here to be a real human being with you. To collaborate. To wonder. And to support your process without needing to direct it.

Sometimes it’s like hearing a bell faintly ringing behind the client’s words. Not loud. Not certain. Just something worth turning toward, with curiosity.