not-yet-known not-yet-known not-yet-known unknown Introduction Over 20 years ago, I (Jason Brand) was in the first months of the second year of my MSW program and in the early weeks of a psychoanalytically-based practicum site. I remember a difficult set of meetings with my supervisor. I was early in the treatment of a woman in her late-twenties who came in overwhelmed and withdrawn after an argument with her partner. Like many young therapists tend to do, I responded by trying to help through practical advice giving and problem solving. I was so good at offering advice and problem solving that eventually my own biases and opinions began to shine through. In the dilemma of “should she stay or should she go”, I tried to stay neutral but it became clear that I thought she should go. As I presented the session to my supervisor, with the help of the process notes that we were required to write up (a line-by-line account of the session recreated from memory), she rightfully pointed out that my focus on problem solving and advice giving had backed me into a clinical corner. This forced me to “pick a side” in my client’s internal dilemma. She went on to describe the challenges of working with someone with possible borderline personality traits and said that in these situations, rather than problem solving or giving advice, it is better to support a dialogue between the different sides of the client’s internal dilemma. In the next session with my client, I found myself daunted by the mention of the word “borderline” and confused about how to situate myself for this internal dialogue to unfold. On top of that, in the pressure of the actual session, I convinced myself that I had to find the perfect time and perfect words. I froze-up and ended up saying almost nothing for the entire session. Later that week, back in my supervisor’s office, I presented the session where I froze. My supervisor made it clear that by barely speaking I had made a different error, one of not providing enough containment, and she worried that the session had been harmful to my client. I felt defeated and worried that I had hit the trainee-trifecta: I had managed to fail myself, my client and my supervisor. A few weeks later, my client terminated her treatment. This narrative of clinical moments can be looked at as a series of interactions that make up the supervision process: the client came in with a challenge, the therapist responded with a skill deficit and the supervisor presented an intended learning goal. Through this way of seeing supervision, for the process to be successful, the supervisor’s learning goal would have to be properly understood and integrated by the therapist and this would be made clear when the therapist is next presented with a similar client challenge (Watkins, 2017; Ladany, Friedlander, Nelson, 2016; Ellis & Ladany, 1997). Or, as applied to my early clinical and supervision experience: my client came in with a challenge about her relationship, my clinical deficit was that I responded through problem solving and advice giving, and my supervisor presented a learning goal of helping the client to explore the different sides of her dilemma. By freezing up in the next encounter, it was clear that I had not fully understood and integrated my supervisor’s intended learning goal.