The Power of the "Good Enough" Connection in Trauma Therapy

After more than a decade of being a trauma therapist, I've come to a realization that I wish someone had shared with me when I was just starting out: the pursuit of therapeutic perfection is not only impossible but often counterproductive in trauma work.

We've all felt it—that pressure to be the perfect therapist. To always know exactly what to say, to never misstep in our interventions, to maintain flawless attunement with every client who walks through our door. In my early years doing therapy, I would agonize over sessions where I felt I hadn't been "enough." Did I help them process thoroughly enough? Should I have said something different when they shared that painful memory?

The Weight of Perfection

This perfectionism takes a toll. I saw myself burn out trying to be everything to everyone—staying up late reviewing session notes, questioning my interventions, and carrying the weight of my clients' trauma as if my perfect response was their only hope for healing.

What I've learned through years of practice—sometimes the hard way—is that trauma therapy isn't about perfection. It's about creating what D.W. Winnicott wisely called a "good enough" relationship.

What "Good Enough" Really Means

When I talk about a "good enough" therapeutic connection, I'm not suggesting we lower our standards or give less than our best. Rather, it's about recognizing that the most powerful healing occurs not in flawlessness but in the authentic, messy, human relationship we build with our clients.

In my practice, some of the most profound breakthroughs have happened not when everything went according to the textbook, but when there was a rupture that we worked through together. Like when I misunderstood a client, acknowledged my mistake, and we explored it together. That repair became more therapeutic than if I'd never stumbled at all.

Why This Matters in Trauma Work

Working with trauma survivors has shown me why the "good enough" approach is not just acceptable—it's essential. Many of my clients experienced relationships where they had to be perfect to be loved, where mistakes meant abandonment or abuse, or where their needs were consistently overlooked.

When I create a space where:

• I can acknowledge when I've misunderstood or misstepped

• We can navigate disagreements without abandonment

• I model self-compassion when I make mistakes

• We prioritize authenticity over performance

...I'm providing something many of my clients have never experienced before: a relationship that doesn't require perfection to continue.

Building "Good Enough" Relationships in Practice

Over my years providing therapy, I've developed some approaches to cultivating these healing "good enough" connections:

I start by managing expectations during intake. I explicitly tell new clients that while I'll always do my best, I will make mistakes, and when I do, I welcome them to tell me.

During our EMDR preparation phase, I emphasize that processing trauma isn't about doing it perfectly—it's about being present with whatever emerges, even if it's messy or unexpected.

When ruptures occur—and they will—I try to catch them early. "I sense something shifted between us just now. Can we pause and talk about what happened?" These conversations are often where the deepest healing happens.

I've found that sharing appropriate reflections about our work together helps normalize the ups and downs. "We've been working together for several months now. We've had sessions that felt really connecting and others where we struggled to get on the same page. That's the natural rhythm of this work."

The Liberation of "Good Enough"

Embracing "good enough" has been liberating for both me and my clients. For me, it has meant less burnout and more sustainability in this challenging field. For my clients, it has meant experiencing a relationship where making mistakes doesn't mean the end of connection—it's an opportunity for growth.

In the unique cultural context of the Philippines, where saving face and avoiding conflict can sometimes take precedence over addressing relationship ruptures directly, modeling this approach has additional value. It gives permission to acknowledge difficulties rather than pretending they don't exist.

After thousands of hours sitting with survivors of trauma, I've come to believe that what heals is not our technical perfection but our willingness to be fully human in the presence of another's pain. To show up consistently, to repair when needed, and to believe in their capacity to heal even when the path forward isn't clear.

That's not just good enough—it's exactly what's needed.