My FIRST Counselling Session and how WRONG it went!

Life started getting difficult and I didn't really have anyone who was going through the same thing as me.

By Hannah Goodare

Ah, my first-ever counselling session. A rite of passage for many, but for me, it was more like a comedy of errors wrapped in a poignant little package. Let’s rewind to that hopeful-yet-tumultuous period of my life when I was grappling with my parents’ cancer diagnoses while juggling the heavy academic load at university—60 miles away, feeling profoundly helpless and perpetually anxious.

Let’s set the scene: I had a looming sense of dread. I was wrestling with the anxiety of attending a counselling session offered by the uni. My brain was firing on all cylinders, conjuring up wild thoughts: What if the counsellor thinks I’m dramatic? Or worse—what if they think there's something seriously "wrong" with me and I get shipped off to a mental Institute?

By the time I finally made it to the counselling building, I was shaking like a leaf in a storm, sweating buckets and breathing like Darth Vader. The hour before, I felt like I was gearing up for an Olympic event rather than a chat session—deep breaths, a lot of internal pep talks, and several trips to the bathroom because anxiety makes you feel like a two-year-old who hasn’t quite mastered bladder control.

Finally, I walked into the counselling room, and I swear it must have looked like I’d just ran a marathon. Not only was I immediately met by a wave of overwhelming anxiety, but I also realised that I was sneezing my way through what was supposed to be a moment of clarity. What was happening? First, I was shaking; now, sneezing! My body is falling apart! There in the corner was a dog—a large, fluffy labrador that might as well have been a woolly mammoth, considering my animal allergies. CUTE! but not when my eyes were already puffy.

But then... I looked at my counsellor. She had soft features, a gentle demeanour, mid 60's, think cute nan vibes...but—oh no—she was completely blind. As if I hadn’t felt invisible enough already! I wanted someone to reach out and pick me up like a small child raising their arms for a comforting hug. Instead, I felt about as seen as a tree in a wood—looking magnificent but utterly unnoticed.

As we embarked on this hour journey together, I sat awkwardly and attempted to open up. I sobbed and felt my tears were almost wasted as nobody could see me. I wanted to express my heartache and fears about my parents, the helplessness that came with being miles away, the feeling of just wanting to curl up in a ball and cry. Instead, I was handed a CD full of guided meditations designed to calm my nerves.

A CD! I hadn’t owned a CD player since high school! At that moment, I left the building feeling more defeated than when I arrived.

That was it. I didn’t go back. Counselling was now a distant idea shoved into my mental "Nope" drawer along with jealous glances at my friends who seemed to have it all together. I muddled through and fortunately made it to 12 months without any help.

Fast forward a year, and guess what? The universe had shuffled my cards and I decided to become a Psychotherapist myself, life dished me a fantastic therapist who walked into my life filled with warmth, connection, and just the right amount of fun. I found someone who not only saw me but understood me. We’ve had countless sessions over the past 15 years, and I often wonder if my first counsellor had a hidden talent for signing me up for the comedy of life. She certainly made me have gratitude!

So here I am, 15 years into my own therapy and navigating life with laughter, tears, and sometimes just the delightful absurdity of it all. If my first experience taught me anything, it’s that not every connection will feel right the first time. Sometimes you have to wade through the dogs and sneezes to find your groove.

To the person who feels overwhelmed or out of place: don’t give up. There’s a therapist out there who will help hold the mirror for you to see yourself. And who knows, you might just stumble into a partnership that lasts a lifetime—or at least long enough to share a few good laughs about a woman, a dog, and a dusty old CD.