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Starting therapy is… weird. You’re anxious about being anxious—and now you’re supposed to open up to someone you’ve never met? Yeah. I see this all the time. If you’re wondering what to expect in your first anxiety therapy session, here’s the truth: most people walk in thinking they need to perform or explain themselves perfectly. You don’t. That’s literally the opposite of the point. My job isn’t to fix you—it’s to help you figure out what your anxiety’s actually trying to say.
Sometimes we start by just slowing down. Noticing how anxiety shows up in your body. Sometimes it’s racing thoughts, sometimes it’s a stomach drop, sometimes it’s a frozen, smiley “I’m fine” that’s been running the show for years. We get curious about that. And when talk therapy isn’t enough, I bring in things like somatic work or parts work—because anxiety isn’t just in your head. It’s in your system. And it’s usually been there a long time.
Cheryl Groskopf, LMFT, LPCC, is a licensed therapist based in Los Angeles who helps high-functioning, anxious adults stop overthinking and start feeling safe in their bodies again. Her work blends somatic therapy, IFS, and nervous system science—with zero jargon and a lot of real talk.
It’s totally normal to want someone to just tell you what to do. I hear that all the time. Especially from anxious, high-functioning folks who’ve spent years trying to make the “right” choice, fix the feeling, solve the situation.
But here’s what to expect in anxiety therapy: most of the time, your therapist isn’t going to give you direct advice. And that can feel… confusing. Or even a little disappointing. Like, wait—what am I even paying for?
The truth? When your nervous system is overwhelmed, your clarity shuts down. Therapy isn’t about handing you a plan—it’s about helping your system slow down enough to access the part of you that already knows. And yeah, that takes time. And trust. And a therapist who doesn’t bulldoze over your inner knowing, even if it’s buried under a pile of doubt and overthinking.
So no, I’m probably not going to tell you what decision to make. But I will help you get to a place where the decision stops feeling so terrifying.
If you want to understand more about why good therapy doesn’t always mean advice-giving, this article from Psychology Today breaks it down from a trauma lens that actually makes sense.
Most people think therapy is just… talking. You vent. I listen. We “process.” But the kind of anxiety therapy I do isn’t about repeating your stress out loud until you’re numb to it. It’s about noticing what your body is trying to say underneath the story.
This isn’t about performing insight or being self-aware enough to impress your therapist. It’s about tuning in. Noticing the stuff you usually ignore because you’ve had to. That tight jaw. That held breath. That smile you can’t stop giving even when you feel like crying. That’s where we start.
Sometimes anxiety doesn’t show up in language—it shows up in your chest, your stomach, your shoulders. You might be telling me you’re “fine” while your body’s holding a full panic under the surface. That’s not your fault. That’s your system trying to protect you.
In sessions, we slow down enough to actually notice that. You’ll hear me ask things like:
“What’s happening in your body as you say that?”
“Where do you feel that stuckness right now?”
Not to be woo-woo. But because your body is usually way ahead of your brain.
Somatic therapy is the name for this kind of work—and it’s often the missing piece for people who feel like talk therapy hasn’t helped.
You might notice different parts of you show up in session. The part that wants help. The part that’s terrified of saying too much. The part that already thinks this won’t work. All of those are welcome.
This is where I bring in IFS therapy, which helps you understand the different voices inside—not as pathology, but as protectors. These parts developed for a reason. We’re not here to shut them down. We’re here to get curious and let them soften.
Most people aren’t used to slowing down and checking in with themselves like this. So if your first session feels weird, that’s actually normal. Your system might be used to bracing, performing, shutting down, or pushing through. It takes time to unlearn that.
There’s no “right” way to show up in therapy. There’s just the way you show up—and we start there.
Most people think they need to come into therapy with a clear story, a timeline, a diagnosis, or a “goal.” Nope.
You don’t need to know where to start
In fact, that’s usually where we start.
I see this all the time: high-functioning, thoughtful people who’ve spent their lives managing everything for everyone else—but when it comes to naming what they feel? Total blank. That’s not failure. That’s a nervous system that hasn’t felt safe enough to slow down and listen.
My job isn’t to get a perfectly coherent narrative from you. It’s to help you feel safe enough to be unsure. Sometimes that first session is just about breathing, naming what’s hard to name, or noticing what your body is doing while you try to explain yourself. That’s not “off track.” That is the work.
If you’re used to being the one who always has it together, always has the answers, therapy can feel disorienting at first. But that’s also what makes it powerful. You finally get to let go of the performance and just be… messy. Real. Honest.
Here’s what I’m not going to do in the first session: list off symptoms from the DSM and tell you whether or not you “have anxiety.” You probably already know you do. Or at least… something feels off. You’re restless, overthinking everything, feeling weirdly panicked or numb—but also totally functioning. That’s the version of anxiety I see most.
The point of therapy isn’t to slap a label on you. It’s to understand what anxiety actually feels like in your body, your relationships, your day-to-day.
Because for some people, anxiety looks like full-blown panic attacks. For others, it looks like perfectionism, people-pleasing, shutting down, avoiding emails for weeks, saying yes when you want to say no, spinning in your head until you feel sick, or picking apart every interaction from yesterday. There’s no one “anxious type.”
In those early sessions, we get curious about your version. Where it shows up. How long it’s been there. What it tries to protect you from. You don’t need to have it all figured out—we’ll notice patterns together. Not so you can “fix” yourself, but so you can stop feeling so confused by your own reactions.
Let’s be honest: most people who come to me for anxiety don’t even realize how disconnected they are from their bodies. And that’s not their fault. If you’ve been anxious for a long time, your system’s learned to live in your head. Overthinking, analyzing, rehearsing, preparing. Constant motion. It’s exhausting—but also kind of… normal for you.
In our early sessions, one of the first shifts that happens is you start noticing what your body’s been doing this whole time. The jaw clenching. The shallow breathing. The weird tension in your chest. The tight stomach before you even open your inbox. That’s anxiety, too—it’s just not the version people talk about.
You don’t need to do anything about it right away. You don’t need to breathe better or stretch it out or fix it. The work starts by noticing. And that’s a skill most of us were never taught.
This is where I bring in somatic therapy. It’s not “just” about talking—it’s about helping your nervous system realize it’s safe enough to not be in overdrive all the time. We slow things down in a way that doesn’t feel forced or performative. Just honest. Curious. Grounded.
You might be surprised how much relief you feel simply by naming what’s happening inside your body for the first time. Like, “Oh. That tightness in my throat? That’s not random.” Once we start paying attention, your system doesn’t have to work so hard to get your attention.
And honestly? That’s when things start to shift.
If you’ve been anxious your whole life, you’re probably used to pushing through. Showing up. Smiling when it’s too much. Keeping it together, even when your system’s falling apart underneath. So when I say you get to go at your own pace, I really mean it.
In therapy, we don’t force stories to come out before you’re ready. We don’t dive into trauma on day one. And we definitely don’t rush past the parts of you that are scared to even be in the room.
You might have a part of you that really wants to open up—and another part that’s already shutting down, convinced this won’t work. Both are welcome. Honestly? That tension is pretty common. Especially if you’ve had to be the strong one for a long time.
That’s why I use an approach called IFS therapy when it makes sense. It helps us work with the different parts of you—without judgment, without pressure. We don’t need to get rid of your anxiety. We get curious about what it’s protecting.
Some sessions move fast. Some move slow. Some are just about breathing and staying present. All of it counts.
You’re allowed to go at the pace your system can actually handle.
Some people leave their first session feeling like a weight’s been lifted. Others leave feeling… cracked open. Or disoriented. Or tired. That doesn’t mean therapy isn’t working—it means your system is finally feeling instead of just bracing.
This isn’t always a calm, linear experience. Especially if your anxiety has roots in earlier experiences—things you had to hold alone for a long time, things you had to shut down to survive. We’re not just managing stress here. We’re working with what your nervous system has carried for years.
In those cases, it’s not “just anxiety.” It’s anxiety shaped by lived trauma. Maybe chronic invalidation. Maybe emotional neglect. Maybe experiences you’ve minimized but that your body never forgot. If you’re reading this and it’s resonating with you, you might want to explore how I work with complex PTSD and trauma.
You don’t have to know if it’s trauma or not, because we will figure it out together. But if your anxiety feels confusing, overwhelming, or like it just doesn’t make sense given your current life—there’s probably more to the story. Therapy is where you get to unravel that gently, at your own pace.
Whether you feel relief or resistance after that first session, it all belongs. Both can be signs your system is starting to shift.
If you’re feeling unsure about what to expect in your first anxiety therapy session, I totally get it. And if you’ve been living with anxiety for a long time, you probably have a nervous system that’s learned to survive it—by overthinking, pushing through, or disconnecting from how overwhelmed you really feel. That’s not weakness. That’s adaptation. And therapy isn’t about undoing that—it’s about helping your nervous system feel safe enough to stop living in overdrive.
This kind of therapy looks different. It’s slower. More curious. More honest. It’s a holistic approach that looks at the whole “you.” We’re not here to “fix” you. We’re here to listen to what your anxiety has been trying to say—and what your body’s been holding all this time.
If you’re in Los Angeles and looking for a more body-based, relational approach to anxiety therapy, reach out here to book a free 15-minute consultation. We’ll talk about what’s been coming up for you, and whether working together might feel like a good fit.
Honestly? It’s slower than most people expect. You don’t need to come in with a full life story or a perfect explanation of your anxiety. We usually start with what’s been coming up lately—and how it’s showing up in your body. If you’re feeling awkward, unsure, or even skeptical, that’s totally normal. There’s no pressure to perform or say the ‘right’ thing. You just get to show up.
If talk therapy hasn’t really helped—or if you feel like you understand your anxiety but it still won’t go away—that’s a pretty good sign your body and nervous system need to be part of the process. Somatic therapy helps you notice what anxiety feels like in your body. IFS therapy helps you understand the protective parts of you that keep spinning or shutting down. We figure out what fits as we go.
Nope. We don’t dive into trauma unless your system feels ready—and even then, we go at a pace that feels safe. Anxiety therapy for trauma isn’t about rehashing every painful memory. It’s about learning how to be in your body again without bracing for something bad. That can be deeply healing—even without saying everything out loud.
Yes—but probably not in the way you’ve been taught to expect. If your system’s been stuck in survival mode for years, it takes more than logic to change it. Anxiety therapy in Los Angeles helps you stop fighting your anxiety and start understanding what it’s been protecting. That shift can change everything. It doesn’t happen overnight, but it’s possible. I see it all the time.
My office is located at 1849 Sawtelle Blvd, Suite 610, Los Angeles, CA 90025—centrally positioned on the Westside near Brentwood, Santa Monica, and West LA. If you're coming from traffic, from burnout, or just from a place of holding it all together—this space is here for you. Quiet. Grounded. Zero pressure.
If you’re ready to get started, reach out here to book your free 15-minute consultation.
