My first therapy session: Survivors recount experience
By Liz Muthoni, July 9, 2025Have you ever felt your chest tighten with words you can’t say out loud?
Have you ever wondered what would happen if you let a stranger see your tears, fears, and the shadows you hide from everyone else?
What if therapy isn’t just for the broken, but for the brave ones willing to sit with their pain, stare it in the face, and choose to heal anyway?
These questions haunted Barbie Njeri as she sat in the waiting room, staring at the cream walls, tapping her knee against the cold tiled floor.
Barbie,25, had always been the strong friend. The one who checked in on everyone, sent encouraging voice notes at 2 am, and carried silent burdens with a trembling grace.
“After my very close relative died suddenly, grief wrapped its cold fingers around my throat, making it hard for me to breathe,” she says.
She found herself crying in matatus, zoning out at work, and ignoring calls from people who once gave her joy.
“Why are you here today?” her therapist asked softly, notebook resting on her lap.
“I don’t know where else to go,” Barbie whispered, voice breaking like thin glass. I feel like I am drowning. And no one can see me.”
Tears blurred her vision as the therapist nodded.
Deep listening
There was no judgment in her eyes nor rushed solutions.
Just silence, deep listening, and a warmth Barbie hadn’t felt in months.
“That first session, I didn’t say much. I cried for my cousin, for the guilt I carried over our last conversation, for the dreams I never got to share with her. The therapist passed me tissues, gently asked if I needed a moment, and let me sit in my sadness without trying to fix it,” she recalls.
When she walked out an hour later, the sky looked different.
It wasn’t blue, but it wasn’t grey either. It was just there.
“And for the first time in months, I felt like I was there too,” she recalls.
For John Mwangi, his first therapy experience was different.
At 30, he had been raised to believe therapy was a white people thing, a luxury for those who had nothing better to do.
“But after two panic attacks at work and a breakdown in the shower, I decided it was either therapy or a slow, silent death inside,” he says.
John almost walked out when he saw the bright paintings on the therapist’s wall.
He felt ridiculous, like a child about to be scolded for colouring outside the lines.
“What brings you here today?” the therapist asked.
“I’m not sure, arms crossed. My boss said I should come. My chest just…..tightens sometimes. I can handle it though,” he said defensively.
But his voice betrayed him, cracking as he spoke.
The therapist didn’t interrogate or analyse him as he feared.
She simply asked him to breathe with her.
They inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, again and again, until his shoulders softened.
“In that first session, I learned that it was okay to sit in silence. That not every conversation needed words, and that therapy wasn’t about being fixed but being seen. I found myself talking about my childhood, about never feeling good enough and the fear of being a failure,” he says.
John walked out with swollen eyes and a lightness he couldn’t explain.
It felt like he had dropped a heavy bag he didn’t realise he was carrying.
Both Barbie and John returned for their next sessions, scared but willing.
Barbie slowly learned to process her grief without letting it define her every waking moment.
John began to understand the roots of his anxiety and started journaling something he once called “useless.”
Going to therapy for the first time feels like walking into a dark cave with only a flickering candle.
It’s terrifying. Vulnerable. Humbling. But as Barbie and John learned, sometimes it’s in those hidden caves that you find the buried parts of yourself you had long forgotten.
Maybe therapy isn’t about finding immediate answers or instant healing.
Maybe it’s about giving yourself permission to be human to cry, to break, to remember, to grieve, to breathe again.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s about knowing that it’s okay not to be okay, as long as you’re willing to keep on trying.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you should go to therapy, ask yourself: Do you want to carry it alone forever?
Or are you brave enough to let someone help you carry the darkness, piece by piece until you find your light again?
Because in the end, seeking therapy isn’t a sign of weakness.
It’s the strongest thing you’ll ever do for yourself.
Therapist Margaret Wanjiru states that starting therapy can be overwhelming, but asking the right questions can ease one’s fears and prepare your mind for healing.
Margaret states that most therapists will tell you the first session is about getting to know you.
“They will ask about your background, current struggles, and what you hope to gain. There’s no pressure to share everything at once. It’s about building trust, feeling safe, and understanding how therapy works,” she says.
Margaret further advises that the duration it takes for therapy to work varies from one person to another; hence, comparison is not healthy at all.
“Some people feel relief after a few sessions, while others need months to unpack deep wounds. Therapy isn’t a quick fix; it’s a process. But every step you take, no matter how small, counts towards your healing,” she urges.
She further emphasises that even in circumstances where you don’t know what to talk about, your therapist will always make sure you feel reassured and seen.
“Therapy is a safe space where even silence is allowed. Your therapist will guide you with questions to explore your feelings, thoughts, and experiences without judgment.”