The first group therapy I participated in was the result of a bargain with my therapist. I was in individual therapy for a while, circling the same themes, feeling stuck in patterns I couldn’t quite shift. Wishing for a little more insight. My therapist gently suggested group therapy, and I firmly declined. It was hard enough to bring my full self into individual therapy, much less a group of strangers. She kept at it though. I sighed. “If I don’t like it, I can stop?”
With a laugh, she agreed. “If you can honestly tell me you’ve given it a real chance, and don’t like it, you can stop. But you’ll have to say goodbye, that’s part of the group agreement.” She threw in the sweetener. “And you can reduce our sessions while you’re in group; it’ll save some money.”
The First Group
I walked into a room full of strangers and froze. It wasn’t fight or flight—closer to shutting down, terrified that if I moved or said anything, all my insides would come falling out. Hoping not to be seen, at least not too much, and nervously hoping I might actually be seen.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was longing for something deeper than insight; I was longing for authenticity. A space where I could stop performing, stop managing how I was perceived, and just be—messy edges and all.
In individual therapy, even when you’re deeply connected with your therapist, it’s still one relationship. One perspective. In group, something shifts. You don’t just feel seen—you begin to see how you’re seen.
That can be vulnerable. Even scary. But it’s also transformative. Reflections you receive from others in the group aren’t theoretical—they’re lived. Someone responds to your silence, calling you in. A group member tells you how they felt when you shared a hard truth. Someone surprises you by naming your strength when you didn’t even realize you were being strong.
Mattering in real time
That’s when something remarkable happens: you feel yourself matter, not in an abstract or intellectual way, but in real time, with real people.
The first time someone in the group looked at me and said, “I was hoping you’d be here, I wanted to hear your thoughts,” changed me. It wasn’t a compliment. It was a moment of connection. I realized that I mattered.
That kind of mattering doesn’t come from performance. It comes from truth-telling and vulnerability. It comes from allowing yourself to care, and letting others care for you.
Group therapy isn’t always easy. You have to bring your full self to the table. There are moments of discomfort—when old patterns flare up, when vulnerability feels risky, when uncertainty creeps in. But it’s in those moments that we grow.
We do this work together in relational groups.. These are long-term process groups grounded in the belief that we grow through, and toward, connection. We explore what blocks authenticity and what happens when we dare to be real.
We learn how to stay in relationship when it gets hard. How to show up with care, curiosity, and courage. And we experience the profound shift that comes from knowing:
Someone sees me. I am known. I matter.
If you’re unsure about group work—if it sounds intimidating—I get it. I bargained my way into it, and it turned out to be one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. That group showed me
You don’t have to be fully ready. You just have to be willing to show up.