Certainty Versus Containment | Embracing Authenticity

I’ve been thinking about the difference between certainty and containment — and how easily the two get confused, especially in therapeutic spaces.

They can look similar on the surface.
But they do very different things underneath.

What I’m Noticing

There’s a belief I encounter often — sometimes explicitly, sometimes quietly implied — that a therapist’s role is to bring certainty.

Certainty that:

things will be okay
feelings make sense
there is a right way forward
someone knows

Some clients find this soothing.
Some professionals take pride in it.

But I find myself uneasy with it.

Because I don’t believe certainty is something we can honestly offer.

The Problem With Certainty

Certainty, when you look closely, often carries a hidden promise:

Someone is still in control.

It can resemble the reassuring presence of a parent who always knows what to do, who will step in when things go wrong, who ultimately keeps us safe.

The difficulty is — that isn’t how life works.

There are limits to:

protection
prediction
rescue

To offer certainty where none exists can unintentionally preserve the fantasy that someone else is holding the ground.

And when that fantasy eventually collapses — as it often does — the fall can be harder.

What Containment Actually Is

Containment isn’t about answers.

It’s about capacity.

The capacity to sit with:

not knowing
fear
grief
responsibility
the absence of guarantees

Containment says:

I won’t rush you away from this.

Not:

I can make this safe.

But:

I can stay present while you feel what isn’t.

That’s a very different offer.

Why This Is Difficult

Existential truths don’t arrive gently.

Things like:

I can’t keep my child safe.
No one is coming to save me.
There is no final certainty.

These truths strip away comfort quickly.

Some people want help avoiding them.
Some want help meeting them.

Containment is only helpful when someone is ready — or close to ready — to feel what’s underneath.

Timing matters. Pacing matters.

But honesty matters too.

Freedom on the Other Side

There is real pain in realising you are ultimately on your own.

But there is also:

responsibility
adulthood
agency
freedom

Not freedom from fear —
but freedom from illusion.

For me, it feels kinder — though harder — to help someone discover their own footing, rather than leaning forever on borrowed certainty.

The Open Question

When does reassurance become avoidance?
And when does honesty become too much, too soon?

I don’t think the answer is fixed.

But I’m becoming clearer about the difference between sounding confident and being able to stay.