Preparing to Bring a Case for Coaching Supervision: A Journey of Reflection and Discovery

By Liz Stewart

The first time I prepared to bring a case to supervision, I wasn’t sure where to begin. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a client in mind—there was one who had been on my mind for weeks. But something in me hesitated. What would my supervisor think? Would they see something I had missed? Would I feel exposed? Would I feel inadequate?

Supervision, at its best, is not about performance—it’s about discovery. It’s about seeing ourselves, our clients, and the work we do with fresh eyes. But to do that, we must be willing to step into the unknown, to let our questions take the lead, and to trust that what emerges will bring us closer to the truth.

What Makes This Client Stand Out?

A good starting place is simply to ask: Why this client? Out of all the people we work with, why does this particular person stay with us?

Sometimes, it’s because we feel stuck—we’ve tried everything, and nothing seems to shift. Other  times, it’s because something about them feels strangely familiar, evoking echoes of past relationships, old wounds, or even unspoken aspects of our own lives. There are moments when a client inspires us, challenges us, frustrates us, or unsettles us in ways we can’t quite name.

Naming the pull—or the resistance—is part of the work.

What Would You Like the Supervisor or Group to Know?

Bringing a case isn’t about presenting a polished narrative. It’s about bringing the raw material of our coaching—our uncertainties, our emotional responses, the tensions in the work, and the places where we long for insight.

What do you want your supervisor or group to know about this client? What is their story? How do they show up? How do you experience them in your sessions?

And just as important: What do you not want them to know?

Are there things you find yourself hesitating to share—perhaps because they feel too revealing, too personal, or too tangled up in your own experience? Are there assumptions you are making that you haven’t yet questioned?

Supervision is not about fixing. It’s about bringing the whole picture—especially the blurry parts—into view.

What Happens in Your Body When You Think About This Client?

Supervision is a place where we listen to what is unspoken. And often, the first place those unspoken dynamics show up is in the body. Are you aware of your body giving you clues?

Even with an extensive somatic background, I found myself going into supervision wanting help—not realizing that my body had been signaling me throughout the session. Luckily, my supervisor asked me, Are you aware that your body is offering information? What are you noticing in your body?

That moment shifted everything. Once I began to pay attention, I started to understand that my body was giving me strong signals—offering insights that my mind wasn’t picking up on. It wasn’t just about my reaction to the client; it was about how my body knew things before I could articulate them.

For example, I once observed a coach sharing about a challenging client—a CEO who had issues with their employees and could not find any resolution. As the coach spoke, I noticed something subtle: my foot was involuntarily flexing. I had learned in my own supervision that this reflex was my body’s way of signaling that I wanted to get away.  

Rather than inserting my own interpretation, I simply asked the coach, I’m curious—how were you able to stay with the client as they refused to look beyond the stats?

The coach’s response was immediate: How did you know that was what I was feeling?

I didn’t answer outright. Instead, I turned the question back: What do you notice in your body?

At first, the coach wasn’t sure. But after a pause, they realized their neck felt stiff. Over time, we were able to explore that sensation—not just as tension, but as information. The rigidity in their neck mirrored how they felt in the session: stuck, rigid, unable to move. As we worked with it, they began to see that their body was reacting just as their client was—locked into a singular way of thinking.

This is the kind of awareness that good supervision fosters. It’s not about arriving at the right answer; it’s about deepening our capacity to notice.

What Links Exist Between This Client and Your Own History?

Every relationship carries its own resonance. Some clients meet us not just as professionals but as people with histories, longings, and unfinished stories of our own.

Does this client evoke something personal—familial, generational, or deeply familiar?

Does their struggle mirror something you’ve experienced?
Does their way of relating remind you of someone from your past?
Does their presence bring up feelings you can’t quite place?

These connections are not always obvious at first. But part of the magic of supervision is the way it allows us to see our own patterns with greater clarity—where we get pulled in, where we pull away, where we become overly responsible, and where we hesitate to challenge.

What Kind of Help Do You Want in Supervision?

This is perhaps the most important question.

What kind of help are you seeking?

Do you want insight into a specific challenge with this client?
Do you want help understanding why you feel the way you do?
Do you want a space to process your own emotional responses?
Do you want practical guidance on how to move forward?

And just as importantly: What don’t you want?

Do you fear being given advice when you’re not ready for it?
Do you worry about feeling judged or exposed?
Do you hesitate to bring certain topics because they feel too personal?

Supervision is not a one-size-fits-all process. Each session, each client, each moment calls for something different. But the clearer we are about what we need—and what we are ready (or not ready) for—the more useful supervision becomes.

What Happens as a Result of Good Supervision?

When I left my supervision session, I realized something unexpected.

I had gone in wanting help with my client, but what I hadn’t anticipated was how much I was learning about myself—who I was in the relationship, how my own patterns were shaping the dynamic, and how I could utilize myself as a tool for support. I had been looking for an answer about my client, but the real shift happened in my understanding of my own presence in the coaching space.

And the relief was enormous.

When I next sat with my client, I noticed how much had shifted—not because I had a new strategy or a perfectly crafted intervention, but because I was different. There was more space between us. I was less caught in trying to figure things out. I could sense the unspoken, both in them and in myself, and that awareness changed everything.

This is the real gift of supervision—not just answers, but a deeper way of seeing. Not just solutions, but a more spacious way of being in the work. It’s a place where we learn to bring more honesty into our coaching, more trust in ourselves, and more capacity to hold what is emerging—both in our clients and in ourselves.

And perhaps most importantly, we remember that we are not alone in this work.

Because in the end, that is the true gift of supervision—not certainty, but connection. Not perfection, but presence. And that is where the real learning begins.