The next day, some very emotional feelings were expressed, and the group paused for quite a while without speaking. Ann finally broke the silence with some particularly intellectual questions - completely logical, but somehow not at all appropriate to what was happening. I felt, on an intuitive level, that she wasn't saying what she wanted to say, but she also gave no clue as to what the real message might be. I found myself wanting to go and sit next to her, but that would seem like a crazy impulse, as she wasn't asking for help in any obvious way. The impulse was so strong, though, that I took the risk, crossed the room, and asked if I could sit next to her on the couch, feeling there was a high chance she would reject me. She made room for me, and as soon as I sat down, she rushed into my arms, laid her head on my shoulder, and burst into tears.
"How long have you been crying?" I asked her.
"I wasn't crying," she replied.
"No, I mean how long have you been crying inside."
"Eight months."
I just held her like a child until the sobbing gradually subsided. Slowly, she was able to mention what was troubling her. She felt that she could help others, but no one could love her, and therefore no one could help her.

Experienced therapists today agree that the essential aspect of therapy, as Rogers perceived it early in his career, is the therapeutic relationship. Of course, it is necessary for the therapist to relate in a meaningful way with the patient - the more the therapist becomes a real person and avoids self-protective or professional masks or roles, the more the patient will respond and change in a constructive direction. Naturally, the therapist must accept the patient unconditionally and without criticism. And, of course, the therapist must empathetically enter the client's personal world.
(Irvin Yalom)