If you were the responsible one growing up and you’re tired of carrying it all, you’re in the right place.
I help high-achieving women calm anxiety, soften burnout, and stop over-explaining their choices through childfree-affirming therapy in TX & FL.
Written by Maggie Dickens, LPC-S | Online Anxiety Therapy for High-Achieving Women in Texas and Florida https://catharticcounseling.com | (Approximately 6 minute read)

If you’ve found yourself asking whether it’s normal to feel worse after therapy, you’re in good company. As a licensed therapist of over 15 years, I’ve sat with enough clients who worried about whether they were doing therapy “right” after a long cry in the car or an hour lost doomscrolling. And most of the time… no, you’re not doing anything “wrong.” The tears and the zoning out are normal when you’re finally sitting with stuff you’ve avoided for so long.
But sometimes… well, sometimes the type of therapy you’re doing just isn’t the right fit.
So let’s untangle these two things from one another so you can better understand if your therapy is working for you the way you need.
When a session touches something real, your nervous system responds. You might feel raw for a day or two. Tender. Like something got moved around inside that hadn’t been touched in years. That’s not your sign to run (even though you want to). That’s the work (ehem, you) doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
What’s different is the other thing. Weeks of showing up. Still going. And instead of anything feeling looser or clearer… there’s this low hum of “nothing’s working.” Maybe something is even worse. That’s the pattern worth slowing down on, and it’s what this post is actually about.
Feeling stuck in therapy usually isn’t proof that therapy is failing you. More often it’s a sign that the fit, the pace, or the approach is slightly off in a way nobody named out loud yet.
Here’s what that tends to look like…
You’re moving too fast, treating yourself like a problem to solve. If you grew up performing “okay,” there’s a good chance you walked into therapy with the same energy you bring to everything else: efficient, determined, ready to figure it out and fix it. You’re not a problem, girl. Treating yourself like one keeps you in your head and out of the actual work.
You’re checking the box. You showed up. You talked. You cried, maybe. You waited for the notification that said you’re healed now. When it didn’t come… the conclusion wasn’t “maybe this needs more time.” It was “I’m doing this wrong too.” Sound familiar?
You’re staying analytical. Smart, capable women are very good at this one. Insight feels productive. Understanding why feels like progress. And it can be… up to a point. But if you can explain your patterns with embarrassing precision and still feel exactly the same in your body and your relationships, the insight isn’t landing where it needs to. Understanding something in your head and actually feeling it are two very different things. Your nervous system knows the difference, even when your brain doesn’t.
None of these mean you’re broken. They mean the approach might need adjusting, or the therapist might need to be a better fit, or both. That’s a completely normal and fixable thing.
Yes, in the short term, especially after a session where something real got touched. Raw for a day, cried in the car, zoned out for an evening… that’s your nervous system processing, not failing. What’s different is a longer pattern of feeling stuck or worse over weeks. That’s usually about fit or pacing, not about you doing something wrong.
Often because the work has stayed in your head instead of reaching your body. If you can explain your patterns perfectly but nothing has actually changed in how you feel day to day, you might be intellectualizing instead of integrating. This is incredibly common for women who were praised for being insightful and “easy” clients. The responsible daughter learned early that understanding things was safer than feeling them. Therapy that doesn’t address that pattern directly can accidentally reinforce it.
Hard therapy still feels like movement, even when it’s uncomfortable. Wrong-fit therapy feels like spinning. If session after session leaves you more critical of yourself, more confused, or more convinced that you’re the problem… that’s information. Not about your brokenness. About the fit.
Notice whether you’re allowed to slow down and feel things, or whether every session turns into another round of analysis, advice, or homework. If you keep reaching for understanding because sitting in the feeling itself seems pointless or unbearable… that’s worth naming out loud with your therapist. A good one will welcome that conversation, not get defensive about it.
If “feeling worse” means persistent hopelessness, a noticeable drop in your ability to function, or thoughts of harming yourself… that’s not therapy being hard. That’s a sign to talk to your provider directly and, if needed, reach out for crisis support right away. Discomfort that moves is part of the work. Decline that doesn’t let up is not something to wait out alone.
Next time you catch yourself reaching for an explanation mid-session or mid-feeling… pause. Ask: am I trying to understand this, or am I trying to avoid feeling it?
You don’t have to answer it perfectly. You don’t have to stop being analytical cold turkey. Just notice. That’s actually the work.
You’re not a problem to solve. You’re a person learning, slowly and imperfectly, what it feels like to let something actually land.
If therapy hasn’t been feeling like anything lately… that’s worth paying attention to. Not as evidence that you’re too far gone or too much or too in-your-head to heal. As a signal that something about the approach, the pacing, or the fit might be worth a conversation.
You’re allowed to ask your therapist if what you’re doing is working. You’re allowed to say it doesn’t feel like anything is changing. You’re allowed to want more than just a smarter understanding of why you’re exhausted.
When you’re ready, come as you are.
xx, Maggie
Some posts you might find helpful:
Virtual therapy and coaching for anxious, high-achieving women ready to quiet the overthinking, set fire to perfectionism, and build a life that actually feels like theirs.
with Maggie Dickens, LPCS