When Therapy Feels Uncomfortable: Stretching Our Emotional Muscles

When Therapy Feels Uncomfortable: Stretching Our Emotional Muscles

Why change can feel so hard, even when it's something we really want.

Have you ever noticed how doing something new can leave you feeling a little or a lot uncomfortable?

Maybe you've tried a new physical activity, stretched a muscle you haven't used in a while, or simply moved your body in a way it's not used to. Sometimes, we feel it afterwards. A little soreness, a lot of discomfort, tenderness, a reminder that we've asked something different of ourselves.

I've always thought that therapy can feel a little like that, too.

Except instead of stretching our physical muscles, we're stretching our emotional ones.

And sometimes, those emotional muscles haven't been used in a very long time.

Why Can Therapy Feel So Hard?

When we come to therapy, we're hoping for something to change.

Maybe we want to feel less anxious, less depressed, stop being so hard on ourselves, feel more connected in our relationships, heal from our childhood pains, or find some relief from experiences we've been carrying for years.

We want things to feel different. And understandably so!

But what we might not always talk about or mention in therapy is that:even the changes we deeply want can feel profoundly uncomfortable.

I’m thinking about the person who has spent much of their life putting everyone else's needs before their own. Learning to say "no" might sound like a welcoming and wonderful practice. But actually saying it? That can bring up guilt, anxiety, fear, worry, or an overwhelming urge to take it back.

Or someone who learned early in life that expressing emotions wasn't safe. Being invited to notice and share their feelings and demonstrate vulnerability might feel deeply uncomfortable, vulnerable, or even frightening.

These aren't necessarily signs that something is going wrong. Or that you are not making the changes.

These discomforts are signs that we're practicing something new.

We're asking ourselves to respond differently than we have for years, sometimes decades, and sometimes for the very first time. And we’re asking ourselves to trust.

And that takes practice.

Our Nervous Systems Like What's Familiar

One of the things I often talk about in therapy is how our nervous systems learn through relentless practice and experience.

Over time, we develop ingenious ways of protecting ourselves, managing painful feelings, and navigating complex relationships. These responses often made a great deal of sense when they first developed.

Maybe we learned to stay quiet and fly under the radar to avoid conflict. To keep busy and distracted so we wouldn’t have to feel something painful. To anticipate everyone else’s needs to maintain connection. Or to remain on high alert because relaxing and letting down our guard wasn’t safe.

Our nervous systems learn from experience. When we live through trauma or ongoing stress, they adapt to help us get through, becoming quicker to notice possible signs of danger and responding in familiar, protective ways. These responses can become automatic, happening before we’ve had time to think.

Even when our circumstances change, those familiar patterns may remain. We might know intellectually that we’re safer now, while our bodies still respond as though we need to protect ourselves. With time, support, and repeated experiences of safety and connection, we can begin to develop more flexibility in how we respond.

And here's the interesting part: what may be a familiar response or reaction doesn't always feel good, but it can still feel safer or more comfortable than trying something new and different.

So when we begin to change those old familiar, defaulted patterns, even in ways that are healthier and more supportive, we will likely feel uncomfortable, uncertain, or unsteady. Our systems are learning a different way of responding, and what is unfamiliar will likely not yet feel comfortable or safe.

It can be a little like working a muscle we haven’t used much before, or may have never used. So what do we need? Practice, gentleness, a little trust, some grit, and time to find our footing. We need room to move steadily, notice the discomfort, fumble with these new changes, be humbled by the discomfort and vulnerability, and eventually, in time we will become more familiar with a new response or action.

I think of Janina Fisher’s phrase, “relentless practice,” and will often anticipate with my clients: “You will engage in so much practice that you might find yourself rolling your eyes at yourself, thinking, here I am, doing this again!” The relentless practice gives ourselves, our bodies, brain and our nervous systems the chance to experience something different, until, little by little, the new way begins to feel more familiar and becomes the new default response.

The Difference Between Stretching and Pushing Too Hard

Keeping with this muscle analogy for a moment.

When we practice stretching or begin using a muscle in a new way, we gradually develop more flexibility and strength.

But if we push too hard, too quickly, we risk hurting ourselves. My pinched nerve in my neck can speak to that from pushing too hard with weights!

I truly believe that engaging in emotional work isn't so different.

There's a difference between feeling challenged and feeling overwhelmed and flooded.

In trauma therapy, we make room for difficult sensations, emotions, and protective responses, including moments when we feel overwhelmed or disconnected. With support, we practice noticing what is happening inside, staying connected to the present where we can, and finding our way back when that connection becomes harder to hold.

Sometimes dissociation is the way our system protects us when an experience feels like too much. We can respect that protection while also building more ways to respond. This means approaching difficult experiences at a pace we can work with, allowing room to pause, reconnect, and begin again. Over time, these experiences can help us develop trust that we can encounter something painful and have the resources and internal support in returning to steadier ground.

The goal isn't to see how much discomfort we can tolerate.

It's to gradually build our capacity to stay connected to ourselves, even when something feels unfamiliar or difficult, and to begin trusting our nervous system in a new way.

Sometimes that means approaching a painful feeling. Sometimes it means slowing down, taking a break, noticing our feet on the ground, or simply acknowledging that a part of us isn't ready yet.

Rest, gentleness, and compassion are part of the work, too.

Change Doesn't Always Feel Like Progress

Something else worth mentioning is that meaningful change doesn't always come with a wonderful sense of accomplishment and ease. It is fumbly, mumbly and can be downright messy

Sometimes it looks like noticing an old pattern before acting on it. Sometimes it looks like lapsing into old defaulted, familiar responses, sensations and emotions but then acknowledging what happened.

Sometimes it looks like having a vulnerable conversation, feeling anxious afterwards, and still recognizing that you spoke up for yourself.

Sometimes it's allowing yourself to cry when you would normally shut down.

Or catching that familiar inner critic and responding with just a little more kindness.

These may seem like small moments to catch, but they matter.

We're practising new ways of relating to ourselves and others. We're creating new experiences for our nervous systems to learn that we have choices.

And with time, repetition (relentless repetition), support, a lot of talking to yourself inside out loud, and compassion, some of those unfamiliar and uncomfortable responses may begin to feel a little more natural.

Not because we've forced ourselves to change, but because we've made room for something different.

A Gentle Reminder

If you've ever left a therapy session feeling tender, emotional, tired, or a little unsettled, you're not alone.

We know that we've touched something meaningful. We’ve opened up trauma networks. Sometimes we've noticed something we hadn't fully understood before. And sometimes we simply need a little time to settle into this new practice and make sense of what comes up.

Discomfort doesn't automatically mean progress, and therapy doesn't have to hurt to be helpful. It's always okay to bring those feelings back to your therapist and talk about what the experience was like.

But I also want to offer this:

Just because change feels uncomfortable doesn't mean you're doing it wrong.

Learning to respond differently to ourselves, our emotions, and the people in our lives takes time.

We can be patient with the parts of us that are afraid of change. We can appreciate the ways we've learned to protect ourselves. And we can gently explore what else might be possible.

One small stretch at a time.

Because building emotional strength isn't about becoming tougher or feeling less.

It's about becoming more connected to ourselves, more compassionate toward what we carry, and more able to meet life's struggles without abandoning ourselves along the way.

And that kind of change, however slowly it happens, can be so valuable.

Reference:

Fisher, J. (2021). Transforming the living legacy of trauma: A workbook for survivors and therapists. PESI Publishing & Media.

Busch, L. (2026). Carry your heart: Indigenous helping wisdom and the science of psychological flexibility. Simon & Schuster.

At Healing Space Therapy, we offer trauma-focused, compassionate psychotherapy that respects your pace, your experiences, and your nervous system. Through approaches including Internal Family Systems (IFS), EMDR, and body-oriented therapy, we support you in exploring old patterns and finding new ways of relating to yourself.

We offer in-person and virtual therapy across Ontario.

www.healingspacetherapy.ca