What Actually Happens in a First Therapy Session

If you’ve been circling the idea of therapy for a while, chances are the not-knowing is half the hurdle. What will they ask? What if I cry? What if I don’t cry? So let’s take the mystery out of it.

Before you arrive

You’ll get a few forms — the ordinary paperwork of any new relationship with an office attached. Consent, privacy, a bit of history. None of it is a test. Half-finished answers are welcome; we’ll fill in the rest together.

The first ten minutes

We start slow. Where you parked, how the week has been, whether the chair is comfortable. This small talk isn’t filler — it’s your nervous system taking the temperature of the room. Mine is doing the same, listening for how you’d like to be met.

The middle

Then I’ll ask something simple: what’s bringing you in? You can answer in a polished paragraph or in fits and starts. You can say “I don’t really know, things just feel heavy.” That is a complete and perfectly good answer. My job isn’t to interrogate you; it’s to be curious alongside you.

You might cry. You might laugh at something dark and then apologize for laughing. Please don’t. Both belong here.

The end

In the last few minutes we’ll zoom out. I’ll share what I noticed, what working together could look like, and you’ll get to ask me anything. Then you go home — often a little tired, sometimes strangely lighter.

That’s it. No trick questions, no inkblots. Just two people beginning, one careful hour at a time. If you’re ready for that hour, I’d be glad to meet you.