When Clients Don't Know How to Say Goodbye
A Clinical Reflection
Purpose: Understanding endings as attachment, loss and relationship rather than technique.
A note before you begin
The reflections below are drawn from my own experience as a therapist. They are not intended as a model of attachment or a guide to endings. Rather, they are observations that have emerged through practice and supervision.
Every Goodbye Tells a Story
One of the things that surprised me most when I first started practising was how differently people experience endings.
Some clients arrive at the final session with a card, a smile and a clear sense that they are ready.
Others become unusually quiet.
Some spend fifty minutes talking about work, football or what they had for breakfast.
Others suddenly remember something they've "been meaning to mention for weeks" just as they reach the door.
At first I worried these endings meant I'd done something wrong.
Now I see them rather differently.
I have come to wonder whether the way people end therapy often reflects the way endings have been experienced throughout their lives.
Not always.
But often enough to make me curious.
There Is No Right Way to Say Goodbye
Some people have never experienced a healthy ending.
Relationships ended suddenly.
People disappeared.
Loss arrived without warning.
Others learned early that showing emotion wasn't safe.
So they become practical.
Detached.
Funny.
When therapy ends...
those experiences often arrive too.
The ending becomes part of the work.
Avoidance Doesn't Always Look Like Avoidance
Avoidance is surprisingly creative.
Sometimes it talks.
Constantly.
Sometimes it laughs.
Sometimes it asks about your holiday.
Or what happens to the therapy room after they leave.
Earlier in my career I found those moments frustrating.
Now I simply wonder:
"I wonder if we're finding it difficult to say goodbye today?"
That gentle observation often creates more movement than any intervention I'd planned.
Silence Can Be a Goodbye
Not every ending needs words.
Occasionally a client becomes quiet.
Earlier in my career I'd probably have filled the silence.
Now I tend to leave it alone.
Sometimes it isn't empty.
It's full.
Full of gratitude.
Sadness.
Recognition.
If it begins to feel overwhelming rather than reflective, I might simply ask:
"What's it like sitting here together, knowing we're about to finish?"
Sometimes that's enough.
We Don't Need to Rescue the Goodbye
One of the biggest traps for trainee counsellors is believing they need to make clients feel better before they leave.
They don't.
Sadness isn't evidence that therapy has failed.
Quite often it's evidence that the relationship mattered.
We don't need to remove that feeling.
We simply help people carry it safely.
There is a significant difference.
What This Has Taught Me
The best endings I've witnessed haven't been the neatest.
They've been the most honest.
Sometimes smiling.
Sometimes crying.
Sometimes unsure what to say.
I've realised my job isn't to create the perfect goodbye.
It's to create a safe enough space for whatever goodbye naturally arrives.
Because, just like therapy itself, there isn't one right way.
There is only the client's way.
And perhaps one of the greatest gifts therapy can offer is allowing someone to experience an ending that is spoken about openly, respected and brought to a close with care.
Reflection for Supervision
How comfortable are you with endings?
What do you notice in yourself as therapy draws to a close?
Do you find yourself filling silence, changing the subject or trying to make clients feel better?
What might your own experiences of goodbye bring into the therapy room?
Sometimes the ending tells us as much about the therapeutic relationship as everything that came before.
Continue Exploring
This article is part of the Free Resources for Trainee & Newly Qualified Counsellors, a growing library of practical guides and clinical reflections designed to support therapists in training and beyond.
⬅ Back to the Resource Library
When Clients Don't Know How to Say Goodbye
Previous:When the Questions Fade