how to start therapy when you’re scared (from someone who ran from his first session)

I ran away from my first counselling session. It was so scary, and the thought of getting home to find the voices in my head even louder than when I left was not what I signed up for. It took me about a year to go back.

Almost 600 hours of therapy later, it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Funny how that works.

If you’re scared to start, welcome. You’re in very good company. Here’s the guide I wish someone had handed me.

the fear is normal

Chances are your head is running some version of this right now. Mine sure was:

  • “What if it makes things worse?”
  • “What if they judge me?”
  • “How do I know they won’t leave me too?”
  • “I don’t even know where to start.”

Being scared doesn’t mean you’re not ready. It means this matters to you.

finding someone is like dating

The first one might not work. The second might not either. Maybe the third. But one will. Honestly, finding a therapist is a lot like dating, and I mean that as a compliment. Fit matters more than whatever’s framed on the wall. If the first person doesn’t feel right, that’s information, not failure.

The first doctor I ever told about the voices in my head was concerned, but I could also feel the judgement. That was enough to keep me away for years. I don’t want that for you. Please don’t let one bad reaction be your whole answer. Try someone else.

your first session

You don’t have to tell the whole story. You’re allowed to walk in and say “I’m scared and I don’t know where to start.” That’s a start. That’s actually a great start.

My first proper session with the therapist I’d end up spending seven years with was hard. I can’t even remember most of it. What I do remember is not being able to trust a single person on the planet, let alone someone new.

trust takes time

If you’ve lived through complex trauma, building trust with a therapist can take a very long time. It’s not because we don’t want to trust, it’s because we have no fucking idea how to. My first few years were mostly just building that trust. The deeper work came after.

it might get worse before it gets better

Fair warning, it can get messy. There were stretches where I’d get home from a session and not sleep properly for a week. I turned up to work in the middle of dissociation, telling myself that one day it would get better. That was hard. Those were some of the hardest days of my life, and they were also the days that were worth the most.

If it’s heavy, tell your therapist. And keep turning up.

if money’s the problem

It was for me too. I told my therapist I couldn’t afford two sessions a week, and she said “we can do the two sessions, I’ll just charge you for one.” That’s when the lightbulb went off in my head that she actually cared about me. Not every therapist can do that, but it never hurts to ask what’s possible.

If you’re in Australia, your GP can put together a Mental Health Treatment Plan, which can get you Medicare rebates on sessions. The rules change, so check what’s currently on offer.

if your therapist leaves

Mine did, and I wish I could tell you it went well. On his last day he told me he wasn’t practising anymore. No slow ease off, no real explanation, just a complete cut off. I got home and collapsed on the floor of my apartment, completely overwhelmed and with no idea why. I couldn’t connect the pain to abandonment, I just knew something was very wrong.

A few days later, shaken but determined, I rang the person he’d named. I’d seen glimpses of change, and risking being abandoned again scared me less than not sorting out what was going on in my head. Best risk I ever took.

just keep turning up

What got me through was a little voice that kept saying “turn up, just keep turning up.” So I did, even on the days when walking into that room was the last thing I wanted to do.

That’s it. That’s the whole secret. The kid who walked into that room barely able to talk about his pain would be so proud of the guy writing this.

I’m not a therapist, and this isn’t professional advice. I’m just living proof that the other side is real, and it’s a lot sunnier than you’d think.

if you need support

  • Lifeline: 13 11 14 (24/7)
  • Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636 (24/7)
  • MensLine Australia: 1300 78 99 78 (24/7)
  • In immediate danger: 000

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