Self Disclosure
by Pamela Szczygiel, DSW, LICSW
There are many gray areas in social work practice, and self-disclosure is no exception. Despite the fact that the literature typically frames self-disclosure as a complex and controversial use-of-self practice issue (Goldstein, 1994; Knight, 2012; Urdang, 2010), inquiring minds still want to know: “So...should I do it or not?” This is often the case for students and newer practitioners. And who can blame them? Social work practice is full of chaos and complexity, and sometimes it just feels reassuring to get a solid answer. As a teacher, I’ve said, “It depends,” more times than I’d care to admit to excellent questions posed by students. So, last semester, when a student proposed, “Ahhh...can you please just tell us what we should say when a client asks us a personal question?” during a first semester practice course, I paused, collected my thoughts, and did my best to lay out reasons why the question of whether or not to self-disclose is tough to answer. What follows here are some musings and basic parameters to consider when thinking about this baffling practice issue.
First Things First: Let’s Define It
If a client asks me my age, should I tell them? If not, how should I respond? Should I tell my client where I’m going on vacation? Is it okay to have family photos in my office? When is it appropriate, if ever, to tell a client that I am also in recovery? Is there a difference between telling a client that I am in recovery from substance misuse vs. another form of mental illness? Is it okay to cry with clients?
This is just a sampling of the range of common, highly debatable questions related to self-disclosure. What are your answers to the above questions? Do your answers depend on any of the following—theoretical orientation, scope of practice, practice setting, use-of-self, foundational social work values/theory, interpretation of the ethics code?
Generally speaking, self-disclosures come in two forms: self-revealing and self-involving (Knox & Hill, 2003). Nearly all clinicians self-disclose to clients in some way or another. If you wear a wedding ring, for example, you are disclosing something about your personal life to your clients. Let’s consider the example of a clinician working with a client who endured several years of domestic abuse. In this situation, a clinician letting the client know that she is affected emotionally/viscerally by the clinical encounter is an example of a self-revealing disclosure: “I feel deeply moved by your account of leaving this relationship after years of turmoil and abuse.” If the clinician informs the client that she, too, is a domestic abuse survivor, she is making a self-involving disclosure. It is easy to see why self-involving disclosures are the more controversial of the two. Although in both examples the clinician makes a choice not to be a “blank slate” in the therapy room and inserts her humanity, self-involving disclosures carry a greater risk (more on this later).
Self-Disclosure and Use-of-Self
Although I’ve always tended toward minimal use of self-involving disclosures with clients, I can vividly recall an instance when a self-involving disclosure seemed to have a positive impact on treatment. I was working with a young adult client struggling to sift through a flood of mixed emotions prior to her wedding day, most stemming from complicated family dynamics. With the intention of validating just how stressful rites of passage can be (despite social messages that such events should be perfect), I briefly shared the story of my own wedding day, which began with a phone call early in the morning alerting my soon-to-be husband that his father had just died. My disclosure did seem validating to the client. It offered her a model for accepting the confusing and messy aspects of her experience—the anger and sadness regarding her family situation and the excitement and joy surrounding her marriage.
Now, it’s possible that the same disclosure in another clinical scenario would have backfired, which brings me to the next point: context is everything. We need to evaluate the situation at hand, the probable impact on the clinical relationship, and the likelihood that the disclosure will be helpful (or not) for the particular client (Urdang, 2010).
Some may conclude that self-disclosure is an aspect of how clinicians use themselves within the art and science of treatment. That’s right. I said it. The art and science of treatment. Some decisions are made by feeling and thinking it out rather than relying on an empirically tested, formulaic answer. Why? Because the work involves understanding our clients’ sense of self and their emotional needs. No two clients are alike. No two clinical encounters are the same. And no two clinicians are the same, which brings me to another point: Theory.
Self-Disclosure Through Various Treatment Lenses
We would be hard pressed to find a treatment theory that has made self-disclosure a main tenet of its treatment philosophy. Still, we can surmise how various theorists think about this topic.
Freud believed that therapist neutrality was key to treatment; therefore, he would not have been a fan of using self-disclosure (Raines, 1996). Revisionists of his theory vary in their philosophies about and use of self-disclosure. Some argue that it should be avoided, as it may interrupt the client’s free flowing thoughts and feelings. Clinicians adhering to a relational-psychodynamic lens envision the therapeutic relationship as a main catalyst for change; therefore, they are likely to have transparency, letting clients see how they are affected by the therapeutic encounter (Knight, 2012). Envision the difference between a classical psychoanalytic posture in which the client lies down and therapists avert their eyes versus a more relational posture where both parties face one another, and the therapist allows facial expressions and responses to be seen by the client.
Humanists in the vein of Carl Rogers assert that a therapist’s authenticity—being genuine and real with clients—is crucial to the client’s self-acceptance and therefore pivotal to healing and growth (Knight, 2012). If a disclosure occurs in the process of expressing genuine regard for the client, then so be it. Although cognitive behavioral theory (CBT) does not explicitly provide a guide for relational issues in the same manner that the other theories do, most social workers practicing within a CBT framework create ample room for clients to ask questions and express concerns regarding their treatment (including the treatment relationship) along the way.
This is perhaps the most common form of self-disclosure and is a point of agreement for most ethically-minded clinicians—we should always allow clients to ask us questions about our training, where we got our degrees, and why we chose the modalities we did. Such inquiries are very common, especially in the beginning stage of treatment.
Practical and Ethical Considerations
Perhaps the biggest ethical concern related to self-disclosure surrounds the issue of boundaries. Will the disclosure “turn the tables” on the client, perhaps burdening the client to take care of the clinician? This is certainly a good question to ask. We also want to ask ourselves who the disclosure serves, as well as whether or not the disclosure has a therapeutic purpose (Maroda, 1999). Of course, it is not always easy to answer the latter question. What feels validating to one client may feel dismissive to the next, and this all depends on the client’s unique sense of self and subsequent relational needs. In the above example from my own practice, my decision to self-disclose was made, in part, by having knowledge of my client’s relational history and my therapeutic hunch that it would validate her experience.
There are other considerations, as well. Some caution against clinician self-disclosure in the following clinical situations:
- if a client’s boundaries and/or reality testing is poor,
- if a client tends to focus on others’ needs before their own,
- if the therapist feels very vulnerable within the treatment relationship, or
- if a client tends to go off topic in sessions (Goldstein, 1994; Maroda, 1999; Raines, 1996).
Of course, some inquiring minds still want to know: If a client asks me my age, what should I do? Consider why the client wants this information, how your answer might affect the therapeutic relationship, and whether or not it’s ultimately helpful? And, by the way, sometimes it’s okay to let the client know that you’re not sure whether you want to answer the question or not. An honest, empathetic discussion with the client about the issue may make for an interesting session.
Finally, is it such a bad idea to leave a little room in the far reaches of our minds for embracing an old adage? Sometimes a question is just a question!
References
Goldstein, E. (1994). Self-disclosure in treatment: What therapists do and don’t talk about. Clinical Social Work Journal, 22(4), 417-433.
Knight, C. (2012). Social workers’ attitudes towards and engagement in self-disclosure. Clinical Social Work Journal, 40(1), 297-306.
Knox, S. & Hill, C. (2003). Therapist self-disclosure: Research based suggestions for practitioners. Journal of Clinical Psychology, 59, 529-539.
Maroda, K. J. (1999). Creating an intersubjective context for self-disclosure. Smith College Studies in Social Work, 69(2), 474-489.
Raines, J. C. (1996). Self-disclosure in clinical social work. Clinical Social Work Journal, 24(4), 357-374.
Urdang, E. (2010). Awareness of self: A critical tool. Social Work Education, 29(5), 523-538
Pamela Szczygiel, DSW, LICSW, is Assistant Professor of Social Work at Bridgewater State University in Southeastern Massachusetts. She maintains a small clinical practice and is a Services to the Armed Forces and Disaster Mental Health Volunteer with the American Red Cross.