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Therapeutic Alliance: What Holds Therapy Together

  • Writer: Adriane Barroso
    Adriane Barroso
  • Dec 18
  • 3 min read
A person sitting alone in a calm, uncluttered environment, suggesting pause, reflection, and the slow process of psychological work.


There is strong research showing that the therapeutic alliance, which is the relationship between therapist and patient, is one of the most reliable predictors of success in psychotherapy. Clinically, though, alliance does not involve the same expectations as in regular relationships, such as always feeling understood or reassured. It is not about being pleased. It is about being taken seriously in a very unique way.


Therapy asks people to speak in ways they may not have spoken before. It also invites the patterns of relating we repeat everywhere in our lives into the room. Frustration, disappointment, anger, hope, dependence, withdrawal. Our repetition becomes clearer, more visible, and this is not a problem in the work. It is the work.


A trained therapist must know that the therapeutic relationship cannot be symmetrical, because they are responsible for noticing what repeats, what pulls for certain responses, and what becomes difficult for the patient to tolerate when it is not met immediately. When a therapist does not respond as an equal in the ordinary sense, it is definitely not indifference. On the contrary, it is a form of deep responsibility. The therapist is there to avoid being absorbed into patterns that have already been costly elsewhere in the patient’s life. To acknowledge them, to digest them, to allow the patient to see them at some point, and then, when they are ready, to build other ways to connect to people.


Patients arrive in therapy with needs that feel urgent and endless, even when they are not experienced as needs. Behind their initial complaint, they may want immediate reassurance, constant feedback, complete answers, or a therapist who smooths over discomfort as soon as it appears. These wishes make sense because they are so human. They come from places where something essential was missing, inconsistent, or unsafe in people’s lives. But if the therapist responds to every pull without pause, the work collapses into repetition again, and the therapeutic relationship becomes another place where the same demand expands until it swallows the work.


This is where experience matters. Being able to sit with a patient who is upset, frustrated, or angry without defending, pleasing, or withdrawing is not intuitive. It is learned. It requires training, supervision, and time with real clinical encounters. A therapist who can hold their place in these moments is not withholding. They are striving to protect the conditions that make therapy possible.


Silence, for example, is often misunderstood. When a therapist does not speak right away, it is rarely because they have nothing to say. More often, it is because they are listening for what needs room to emerge, and speaking too quickly can interrupt this process or offer premade answers that interfere with the patient’s timing and elaboration.


Alliance, in this sense, is not always comfort. It is containment. However, if the therapist remains steady, attentive, and consistent, the patient begins to learn that they can bring difficult feelings into the room without losing the relationship or having to manage the other person. Anger does not end the work. Disappointment does not destroy it. Silence does not mean abandonment. The other begins to matter less than one’s own expectations for oneself.


And there is another piece that is easy to miss: even the most skilled therapists care deeply about their patients. They root for them quietly enough that it does not become a demand for good behavior or success. Good clinical work does not ask the patient to protect the therapist, to perform progress, or to offer the therapist comfort through being “good.” The therapist’s steadiness is, in part, what allows the patient to exist without having to please.


Kindness and humanity should be central to clinical work. But technique matters. Training matters. Theoretical grounding matters. They are what allow a therapist to stay human without becoming reactive, to be present without collapsing into reassurance, and to care without losing their clinical position. Therapy works when a person feels held not because they are always agreed with, but because they are taken as a whole. Their contradictions, their repetitions, their resistance, their desire to move forward, and their pull to stay the same. The therapist will stay put, ready to take whatever part of themselves they bring.

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