By Juliana Hopkins, DSY TTC Graduate +DSY TTC and YTH Course Tutor
Why Person-Centred Matters to Me
When I explain why I work as a Person-Centred Counsellor, I often say it’s because I can’t bear being told what to do. Even when advice is right, the implication that someone knows better than me feels diminishing. It triggers feelings of inadequacy, and I respond with defensiveness, sulking, or stubborn resistance. If you’ve ever been panicked and told to “just breathe” by a well-meaning friend, you may understand the urge to push back.
The Return of Anxiety
Recently, I experienced a short period of anxiety. While I managed it relatively well, the experience brought me face-to-face with how easy it is to lose clarity — and how vital it is to feel accompanied, not fixed. I began to see my experience through the lens of the Kleshas, the five mental afflictions in Yoga psychology that cloud perception and lead to suffering.
Avidya: The Fog of Non-Seeing
The most dominant Klesha I felt was avidya — ignorance or “non-seeing.” I knew I wasn’t perceiving things clearly. My fear wasn’t rooted in present danger, but in imagined catastrophes. Though I recognised this pattern, I still needed to be very careful about who I spoke to. Well-meaning attempts to correct my thinking could leave me feeling even more unsafe and judged — confirming a painful internal narrative: I’m not getting this right.
The Importance of Empathic Witnesses
What helped was not being told what was real or true, however being met with genuine presence. My friend G listened with empathy. He didn’t tell me I was wrong but simply held a different perspective. I didn’t feel judged. His acceptance allowed space for my own process — a subtle but profound act of healing.
This was important, because others’ avidya — their own distortions or judgments — could have infected the delicate balance I was trying to hold. I needed people who could respond with awareness and humility, not with the ego-based certainty that asmita (egoism) brings. G’s empathy was the antidote. He stayed grounded in himself, yet walked beside me in my distress, without needing me to change for his comfort.
Another friend, N, described how she supported her anxious daughter before an exam. Instead of instructing her to breathe, she made eye contact, held her hands, and breathed with her. That, to me, was the essence of relational presence — the opposite of fixing.
Meeting Myself with Compassion
Alongside support from others, I knew I had to offer this same non-judgemental presence to myself. And that was hard. My anxious mind was like a torturer — relentless and convincing. But I’d learned that fighting anxiety only escalates it. It’s like a toddler mid-meltdown — resist, and the distress grows. I began imagining anxiety as a nervous friend, desperate to keep me safe. I called it Friend and tried to soothe it gently.
One night, anticipating another sleepless stretch, I sat with Friend and spoke to it:
“Thank you for warning me of possible dangers. That’s helpful. I’ve taken it all on board, and I’ll act where needed. You can rest now — we’ve got this.”
Friend’s imagined eyes softened. The grip loosened. We both slept better that night.
Letting Go of Attachment and Aversion
This act of inner companionship helped me move past raja and dvesha — attachment and aversion. I wasn’t clinging to wellness or resisting my distress. I simply accepted what was. I didn’t need to like it, approve of it, or agree with it — but I had to accept it in order to untangle it.
I extended this acceptance to my physical self too. I treated myself like a baby: naps, gentle walks, healthy food, and a slow pace. I noticed how “self-care” is sometimes viewed as indulgent, yet the same care offered to a baby is applauded. We all carry that vulnerable child-self within us — and it deserves love.
Offering Myself a Secure Upbringing
This gentle holding of myself was like giving myself a secure emotional upbringing. In raising my own children, I’ve often reflected on the phrase, “accept the child you have, not the one you expected.” I did that for myself. I didn’t deny my irrational thoughts or exhaustion. I listened to them kindly.
I also confided in a few trusted people — not to be advised or fixed but simply accompanied. It was as if they were holding the ropes while I abseiled into my inner world. The descent was mine, but their presence made it safe enough to begin.
Moving Past the Kleshas
In moving past the Kleshas, I found clarity. Not perfect peace — but enough awareness and compassion to come back to myself. Anxiety wasn’t something to eliminate. It was a part of me needing care, not correction. And through gentleness, presence, and trust — in myself and others — I offered that care, one moment at a time.
If afflicted by avidya, asmita, raja and dvesha, this can lead to abinivesha – fear of dying, or fear of everything. For now, I feel freer of the obstacles, I am grateful to have been able to have offered myself that unconditional acceptance. I hope I will do the same next time – as inevitably there will be! As Carl Rogers says, the founding father of the Person-Centred approach; “It’s an awfully risky thing, to live”.
