Daring Greatly (in Therapy)

For anyone who has sat in a therapist’s waiting room, or hovered over “Join Meeting” before telehealth, therapy can feel like a doorway into the unknown. What will I say? What will they think? What if I cry?

Keep going.

One of my favorite authors, writers, researchers, and humans, Brené Brown, tells us, “We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known.” I believe that idea sits close to the heart of therapy. Healing doesn’t begin because we tell our story perfectly. It begins when we risk telling the truth imperfectly and discover that someone can stay with us.

The key word is risk.

I’ve noticed, personally and professionally, that trust arrives slowly. It gathers. A therapist remembers the name you mentioned weeks ago. They notice the joke that helped you slip past sadness. They don’t rush to fill the silence. Over time, these moments say: You don’t have to perform here.

Then comes the big V: vulnerability. Vulnerability isn’t disclosure without boundaries. Therapy doesn’t ask you to tear open every wound before you’re ready. Courage may mean speaking a painful truth. It may also mean saying, “I can’t go there today.” Both can be honest. Both can be true. Both can move the work forward.

And then shame shows up.

Shame tells us to hide whatever we fear makes us unlovable. Therapy invites us to bring those hidden places into relationship, but not by thrusting them center stage under a spotlight. We approach them carefully, at our own pace. When someone meets what we fear with curiosity rather than contempt, the old story may begin to loosen. Not disappear. Loosen.

The practice continues outside the room. You name what you feel instead of numbing it. You try a boundary, survive the guilt, and try again. Slowly, courage becomes less like a dramatic leap and more like returning to your life.

Perhaps beginning therapy is a form of daring greatly: arriving with the parts still deciding whether it’s safe and, one honest moment at a time, allowing ourselves to be known.