The rule I’ve learned in school about self-disclosure is that we must only share our stories if they are therapeutically effective for our clients. In my naïveté, I took this law at face value. I accepted therapeutically effective as a binary option, either a self-disclosure for therapeutic effect or not at all - something that would be resoundingly clear to me. Having never been in the field before, it did not occur to me that self-disclosure and its possible effects on a client were more than two options. In a matter of three weeks in my internship, I’ve begun navigating through shades of grey.

Forget the notion of black and white. That idea, along with the young counselor who sat in a classroom and never inquired about the laws prophesized to her, are long gone.

For example, what do I say to a client who is not my client, yet asks me my opinion about my spiritual beliefs? Do I play Socrates and ask, “Why it is important to you to know my beliefs?” or do I do what my gut tells me? My gut tells me to share my beliefs, not because I want him to believe what I believe, but because I want him to know I am a human being who made a choice about my spiritual foundation. I want to share it because I truly believe it will be therapeutically effective.

Why is this? This is because I work in a community of clients. All the men live in one location, socializing together, working together, and sometimes quarreling with one another. Sometimes it’s like a flashback to high school with all the social upheaval that seems to plague the clients. The saying about addicts who “stop growing when they start using,” couldn’t be truer in my eyes. Most of these men began using when they were teenagers. If you can imagine what occupied your mind as a teenager, you can imagine the discussions that probably crop up around a lunch table at this facility. These guys like talking about people.

So, I know my statement about my spiritual beliefs in passing will not be a secret. Nothing I say about myself will be a secret. Nothing anyone says unless in the confidence of a counseling session will be kept secret. So, I choose to share because I am a human being. I want these men to know I too have wondered about my spiritual beliefs. I want the possibility of empathic connection to be planted. I want them to like me.

I’m lucky enough that I didn’t develop an addiction in my adolescence. I have grown physically, emotionally, and mentally into my adulthood. I have waded some of the waters these men fear trudging through. I think that makes me a fit counselor. I also think that makes me a good human being and someone capable of needed empathy. I want clients to know I am approachable and genuine. I am vulnerable in ways they may not be prepared to be yet.

Knowing what we know about how effective the therapeutic alliance is in a counseling relationship, is it a requirement that our client’s like us? We know early impressions are a predictor of therapeutic outcome. So, should we act as Carl Rogers suggests and be mirrors for our clients and let them ascribe meaning onto us or should we be human beings and allow ourselves to share those details which possibly endear our clients to us and allow us to forge the beginnings of therapeutic alliance? I personally have opted for the latter, but I know it can be a slippery slope that I must be vigilant to adhere to in my position.

I am currently struggling with this concept in the infancy of my life as a professional counselor. I have the foundation of my education, one I feel has prepared me to be aware enough to even acknowledge that this is a source of struggle for me. I feel incredibly grateful for that. Now I must take the tools I was given and make my own decisions about what shade of grey I pull from my toolbox. It has not been easy, but I don’t think anyone ever told me it would be.

Jennifer Bingaman is a counselor-in-training and freelance writer. She blogs about her experiences as a client and a counselor with a few life musings thrown into the mix at http://www.thepursuitofsassiness.com/.