The Gifts We Give Ourselves: A Story of Healing and Professional Transformation

My identity as a counsellor has been shaped by institutional, self-led, and on-the-job education, clinical supervision, and important individual connections. My decision to pursue a degree in counselling was an intentional one; I was clear that I didn’t want to diagnose people. It was also a naïve one. I had been travelling the world for years, originally from Canada, and had decided to study in Australia. I was oblivious to the hierarchy of the professional world. It was only after completing my undergraduate degree as a counsellor that I realised there is a gap in perception between counsellors and other therapists who do similar, and in many circumstances, equal work. Perhaps you’ve felt this way at times. With more advocacy and a collective effort, this will change.

But these and other messages, though often subtle, had a profound impact on me — sometimes in ways that were not fully conscious. In 2008, earned my Bachelor of Counselling, and soon stepped into an adventurous posting in child protection. However, I soon found there was very little clinical therapeutic work to do. Instead, I trained on the job as a social worker while living and working in remote WA. I yearned to do the deeper work that I saw the psychologists doing, and that I knew was my calling. Despite excelling in my job, an inescapable sense of unfulfillment pervaded, and I felt out of alignment. For over a decade, I moved from role to role, performing well but feeling as though the light in me was dimmed.

To manage this uneasiness, I leaned into my strength as a learner, pursuing certifications and degrees. I hoped these accolades would lead me to the fulfilling practice I longed for, yet they became a temporary balm. The burning desire to do deep, meaningful work remained. Staying in unfulfilling roles was easier to justify when weighed against the benefits of subsidised housing, generous leave entitlements, and a pay packet larger than those available in counselling roles. Golden handcuffs were hard to relinquish, I realised.

I had become accustomed to the safety of being at arm’s length behind an organisation; clients came to me without effort on my part. My dream of building a private practice alongside a secure job vanished. Forced by circumstance, I began to establish an online practice one and a half to two years before the pandemic normalised virtual therapy. I had lost the perks of a steady income, and I had to market myself. This shift brought me face-to-face with questions about my identity, both professional and personal. Running a private practice meant I had to tell people who I am and why they should come to see me. At this time in my career, self-doubt came flooding to the forefront. For a moment, I lost touch with what I knew. It was in the safe space of clinical supervision that I found what I needed to break free from the part of myself that was getting in my own way.

My clinical supervisor is an art and gestalt psychotherapist who provides a space where I feel safe to bring my whole self. Typically, our work explores my reflections on practice with clients, and often touches my own shadow aspects, fears, and core wounds. I’m known to bring a list of pertinent topics to fit into our short hour, but during one particular session I arrived without one — which proved transformative. One of the gifts of supervision is being seen and heard, and having our words reflected to us just like we do for our clients. And when they’re good at their craft, they invite us to follow threads that could lead to deeper meaning. In this instance, my supervisor picked up on a particular pattern of thought and paused my monologue to allow the knot to unravel. I’d been lamenting about feeling put into a box that I didn’t want to be in. With her help, I was able to realise that I put myself into that box, and that I was the only one who could get me out of it.

Her gentle observation that I allowed myself to be placed in that box resonated deeply. She invited me to visualise the box and in my mind’s eye it was adorned with vibrant bush medicine flowers, reminiscent of a cherished painting in my office. Suddenly, many threads were connecting in my heart. I had been extremely close to my maternal great-grandmother, who died during the first year of my counselling degree. She was a First Nations woman who continues to have a profound influence in my life. It was in her home, garden, and long drives together that she instilled in me a way of connecting deeply to the natural world and ancestors. In that moment, I saw the box as both a container for my struggles and a vessel for healing. My supervisor linked this vision to the thoughtful gifts I’ve created for loved ones, honouring that this box was a sacred gift for myself. The insight brought me to tears, as I realised the depth of this symbolic imagery, and act of self-recognition and care.

Many people box themselves into a story that doesn’t serve them, and many struggle, as I did, to find the healing that will transform, and alchemise, those constraints. I was encouraged to bring the box to life, which I did the very next day; it sits beside me as a tangible reminder of the healing I offer myself, and the depth it brings to my work with others. This experience strengthened my professional identity; I embraced who I am as a clinical and depth counsellor and it was liberating. When we can get out of our own boxes, we are better placed to help our clients do the same. It also highlights the importance of working with a supervisor who is a good fit, one who offers a container for meaningful exploration of the parts you bring to your sessions, if you are brave enough to allow it.

Rebecca Johnston is a Clinical & Depth Counsellor specializing in sex therapy, couples therapy, and whole-self healing. With a career spanning social services, counselling, and holistic therapeutic practices, she integrates evidence-based modalities with the wisdom of somatic and experiential work. Her approach is shaped by years of professional training, self-inquiry, and a deep understanding of how the body holds and transforms experience. Rebecca supports individuals, couples, and groups in reclaiming clarity, connection, and personal agency.