Before we ever meet

Once you schedule, a few forms come to you through the secure client portal. They cover the practical things: contact information, a bit of history, and consent forms that explain how therapy works and how your privacy is protected. You can fill them out from your couch, at whatever hour suits you. There is no deadline pressure; they just need to be done before we meet.

If you’re paying for sessions yourself, you’ll also receive something called a Good Faith Estimate through the portal. It’s a written estimate of what therapy is expected to cost, required by federal law, so there are no surprises later. You don’t have to do anything with it except read it and ask me any questions you have.

Because my sessions happen by secure video right now, the last piece of prep is simple: find a spot where you can talk privately for about an hour. Some people sit in a parked car. Some use headphones in their bedroom. Wherever you can breathe and speak freely counts.

The first few minutes

Here’s the honest truth: a first session is mostly a conversation. When you join the video call, I’ll greet you, and we’ll take a minute to just arrive. You don’t need an opening speech. "I’m not sure where to start" is one of the most common first sentences in therapy, and it’s a perfectly good one.

My job in the first session is to hold the structure so you don’t have to. I’ll guide us. All you need to do is show up as you are, nerves included.

What I might ask

I’ll ask questions, gently and one at a time. A few examples:

  • What’s bringing you in, and why now?
  • How’s day-to-day life going? How are you sleeping, how’s work feeling, and who do you have around you for support?
  • What have you already tried, and what helped, even a little?
  • What would you like to be different?

None of these are trick questions. There is no right answer I’m listening for. I’m simply trying to understand your life the way you experience it.

You decide what to share

You are allowed to share as much or as little as feels right. If a question touches something you’re not ready to open, you can say "I’d rather not go there yet," and we won’t. Nothing about therapy requires you to hand over your whole story on day one. Trust is built, not owed.

And whatever comes up for you during that hour is welcome. People cry in first sessions. People go quiet. People blank out mid-sentence and lose their words. All of it is normal, and none of it is a problem. There is no test to pass, and there is no way to do this wrong.

How it usually ends

Toward the end, I’ll check in on how the hour felt for you. We’ll talk about what working together could look like: how often we’d meet, and what we might focus on first. If you want to continue, we’ll schedule your next session before we log off. If you want time to think, that is a completely fine answer, and I’ll tell you so.

You’re allowed to decide it’s not the right fit

Here’s a permission I wish someone handed everyone before their first appointment: you are allowed to decide I’m not the right therapist for you. Research on therapy is clear that the relationship between you and your therapist matters enormously. Fit isn’t a nicety; it’s the ground the work stands on.

If something didn’t click, you haven’t failed, and you haven’t wasted anyone’s time. You’ve gathered real information. A good therapist wants the right fit for you more than they want to keep you, and I mean that. If I’m not it, I’ll gladly help you think about who might be.

If your nerves get loud between now and your appointment, the box breathing exercise below is a small, steady tool you can use anywhere, even two minutes before we meet. And if you haven’t taken the first step yet, a free consult is a low-pressure way to hear my voice and ask questions before you decide anything. Either way, I’m glad you’re here reading this. That’s already a beginning.