How clinical support helps play therapists get unstuck, build confidence, strengthen parent relationships, and create better outcomes for clients.
What do you do when a child completely wrecks your playroom?
Do you set a limit? Do you allow it to happen week after week because you believe it's part of the therapeutic process? Do you talk with the parents? Do you change your approach?
And what happens when you're the only play therapist in your office and have nobody to ask?
These are the kinds of situations that can make clinical isolation so difficult.
Maybe everyone else in your agency works primarily with adults. They're supportive, but they don't necessarily understand play therapy. Meanwhile, you're trying to determine what the child's behavior means, whether you should intervene, and what your play therapy model says about what should happen next.
Or maybe you're in private practice and simply don't have colleagues around you anymore.
Either way, you're left trying to figure everything out on your own.
I've been talking quite a bit lately about clinical isolation because I think it's one of the missing conversations in our field. It doesn't just affect how we feel about our work. It can influence how quickly we get unstuck, how confidently we show up with clients and parents, and ultimately the quality of the play therapy services we're providing.
In my experience, having a community of like-minded play therapists can change all of that.
Here are five ways I've seen community make a real difference.
We've all had those cases.
You've tried what you know to try, and nothing seems to be changing.
When you're working in isolation, the case can stay stuck until you figure out what to do next.
That's a lot of pressure.
You might start questioning your skills. Then you start searching for another activity or intervention. Before long, you're using what I call the spaghetti-against-the-wall method—trying anything and everything and hoping something finally sticks.
But that's very different from thoughtful clinical decision-making.
This is where community can make an enormous difference.
In our consultation meetings in Play Therapy Academy and Play Therapy Elevation Circle, we don't immediately jump to, "What activity should you try?"
We start with case conceptualization.
What's actually happening?
What's at the root of the problem?
What patterns are sustaining it?
What might we be missing?
Once we understand the problem, then we can begin figuring out what to do about it.
And this is one of my favorite things to watch happen in a consultation group.
Someone presents a case and another play therapist says, "I've had something similar happen. Here's what worked for me."
Someone else sees the situation through a slightly different clinical lens.
Another person remembers a training, article, book, or resource that might be helpful.
Suddenly, the therapist who had been staring at this problem alone has several new ways of looking at it.
I've seen play therapists struggle with cases for weeks or even months, and one consultation conversation shifts the entire direction.
Your client doesn't have to remain stuck as long because you're no longer trying to get unstuck alone.
There's another way clinical isolation can affect play therapy that we don't talk about nearly enough.
It can affect your nervous system.
Imagine walking into a session with a child when you're already thinking:
I have no idea what I'm going to do if this happens again.
It's difficult to be fully present when part of your brain is scrambling for an answer.
Maybe you're worried the child will wreck the playroom again.
Maybe you're dreading a particular behavior.
Maybe there's something about the case that's triggering something in you.
We're therapists, but we're also human beings.
When we're anxious internally, it becomes harder to show up externally with the congruence, empathy, unconditional positive regard, and regulated presence that are so important to the therapeutic relationship.
Having clinical support doesn't mean you'll never feel anxious or unsure again.
It means you have somewhere to take it.
When you've talked through the case, developed a clearer conceptualization, and walked away with Plan A, Plan B, and maybe even Plan C, you don't have to walk into the next session carrying the same level of uncertainty.
And sometimes what we need isn't another intervention at all.
Sometimes we need a confidential, nonjudgmental space where we can say:
"This case is really getting to me."
Or:
"I'm dreading this session, and I need to figure out why."
When we can process that with other professionals who understand the work, we can leave some of that weight there instead of carrying it into the playroom.
That helps us return to our clients more grounded, attuned, and present.
One of the realities of working alone is that your clinical toolkit is limited to what you've learned.
The books you've read.
The trainings you've attended.
The approaches you've studied.
The clients you've personally worked with.
No matter how experienced you are, nobody can know everything.
I've been working in child and adolescent mental health for almost 35 years, and I still need other people's perspectives.
That's one of the greatest benefits of community: you gain access to collective expertise.
Maybe one therapist has extensive experience working with neurodivergent children.
Someone else has spent years working with trauma and attachment.
Another therapist has experience with high-conflict divorce.
Someone else is deeply grounded in Adlerian play therapy, Gestalt play therapy, Child-Centered Play Therapy, family play therapy, or another approach.
You don't have to personally attend every training or read every book because you're surrounded by people bringing their own knowledge, experiences, resources, and perspectives into the conversation.
That doesn't mean randomly collecting activities.
We're still grounding our clinical decisions in case conceptualization and our play therapy model.
But instead of turning to "Dr. Google" every time you're stuck, you have people who understand that play is the vehicle for change and can help you think through how an intervention fits the needs of the child.
That takes some of the pressure off you to know everything—and I think that's an important part of reducing burnout too.
If there's one thing I hear from play therapists regularly, it's some version of:
"I love working with the kids. I just wish I didn't have to work with the parents."
But parents are an essential part of the process.
And if you're dreading those conversations, I think it's worth getting curious about why.
Sometimes we're not sure how to conceptualize what's happening with a parent.
Sometimes we're anxious about saying the wrong thing.
Sometimes the parent's own fear and anxiety come across as criticism, anger, or even aggression—and we internalize it.
Then we start thinking:
Maybe they don't trust me.
Maybe I'm not doing enough.
Maybe I really don't know what I'm doing.
I've seen exactly this type of situation come into consultation.
In one case, a therapist had a difficult initial meeting with a parent who came across as verbally aggressive. Instead of simply deciding the parent was "difficult" or assuming the therapist had done something wrong, we slowed everything down.
We looked at the case.
We looked at the interaction.
We considered what might be underneath the parent's behavior using a neuroscience and attachment lens.
Then we helped the therapist develop a different way of approaching the parent.
It took one parent session to begin shifting the relationship.
That's the power of not having to figure these situations out alone.
When you understand what's happening and have a plan for what to say, how to say it, and when to say it, you naturally show up differently.
Parents feel that confidence.
Over time, they can begin to trust you enough to become collaborators rather than feeling like critics standing outside the therapeutic process.
And when parents are engaged, they're much more likely to support the changes their child is working toward outside the playroom too.
This may be the biggest shift of all.
When you've been isolated for a long time, you can slowly stop trusting yourself.
You notice something in a session and immediately wonder:
Am I reading too much into that?
You have an instinct about what's happening and then second-guess it.
Guessing turns into second-guessing.
Second-guessing feeds imposter syndrome.
And eventually, that constant uncertainty becomes exhausting.
Community gives you something isolation can't: feedback.
You bring your observations to people who know you and understand your work, and they can say:
"Yes. I see that too."
Or:
"I think you're onto something."
And sometimes:
"I wonder if there's another way we could look at this."
All of that is useful.
Over time, you begin recognizing when your clinical instincts are on target and when something from your own experience might be getting activated.
You develop greater trust in your ability to notice, conceptualize, make decisions, adjust, and seek help when you need it.
That's the kind of confidence I want play therapists to develop.
Not:
"I know everything."
But:
"I've got this. And when I don't, I know where to go for help."
Sometimes we assume the solution to uncertainty is another training.
And training absolutely matters.
But training alone can't prepare you for every child, every family system, every parent conversation, or every unexpected moment that happens in the playroom.
Sometimes what moves the needle isn't more information.
It's having access to people who understand the work and can help you use what you already know.
That's why I've become so passionate about creating community for play therapists.
I see what happens when we put our collective heads together.
Cases get unstuck.
Therapists feel more regulated.
Clinical toolkits expand.
Parent relationships improve.
And, eventually, therapists begin trusting themselves again.
That's not just good for us.
It's good for the children and families we serve.
If you're tired of trying to figure everything out by yourself, enrollment for Play Therapy Elevation CIRCLE is opening soon.
PTEC is my online community for play therapists who want connection and clinical support from other play therapists who actually speak the same language.
Inside, we have monthly consultation and Mastermind meetings, a monthly book club, Tuesday Tips with practical strategies you can use right away, group chats for ongoing connection, and upcoming Play Therapy Roundtable discussions where we'll explore clinical topics and cases from different play therapy perspectives.
You can join the waitlist through Renewing Hearts Play Therapy Training so you'll know when enrollment opens.
I'm also hosting a free 90-minute webinar on August 23 at 4:00 PM Pacific Time:
How to Provide Play Therapy Without Second Guessing Every Clinical Decision, Even With Complex Cases
I'll walk you through my three-part framework for approaching clinical decisions with more clarity and confidence, including the role that community plays in helping us become more confident play therapists.
Because becoming a more confident play therapist doesn't mean you eventually reach the point where you never need anyone else's help.
It means you develop the skills to trust yourself—and the wisdom to know you don't have to do this work alone.
Categories: : Community, Play Therapy Academy, Play Therapy Elevation Circle, Podcast, Supervision