What a Safe Therapy Space Feels Like: Insights from Trauma-Informed Practice

“You’re so nice… I find it hard to trust you.”

That’s what a client told me at the end of our very first session.

They didn’t say it casually.

There was a pause. A searching of my face. A quiet tension in the air, as if they weren’t sure how I’d react.

A few months ago, I might’ve felt a wave of self-doubt.

What did I do wrong? Was I being too soft? Not professional enough? Too personal?

But something in me had shifted.

This time, I could hear what wasn’t being said directly.

That maybe kindness had come with strings attached in the past.

That warmth didn’t always mean safety.

That trust, for them, wasn’t easy — even in therapy.

And instead of shrinking into self-blame, I could hold space for it.

I felt… grateful.

Grateful that they felt safe enough to voice something complicated.

Grateful they didn’t have to pretend to trust me.

Grateful that the therapy room could be a place where even mistrust could be named — and welcomed.

I used to think therapy had to look a certain way: productive, structured, tool-heavy.

But what I’m learning is this:

Real change often begins with a quiet sense of safety.

With pace.

With permission.

With the nervous system slowly learning that it doesn’t have to stay in high alert.

It’s not always about what we do in the room — but how we are in it.

Can I stay with someone when they feel messy? Guarded? Uncertain?

Can I resist rushing to fix, interpret, reassure?

Instead of pulling someone toward healing, I now focus on walking beside them.

Letting trust emerge at its own speed.

Honoring what their body knows — before asking their mind to follow.

This shift — in how I listen, how I respond, how I understand safety — has changed me not just as a therapist, but as a person.

Because I’ve also known the discomfort of sharing when you're not sure you'll be understood.

I’ve known what it’s like to be afraid of being too much or not enough.

And I’ve felt the difference it makes when someone stays. Gently. Steadily.

That’s what I now try to offer.

A space where you don’t have to perform healing.

Where silence isn’t awkward.

Where “I don’t know” is a valid place to start.

Where trust is not assumed, but earned — patiently.

Where your story, in all its contradictions, is welcome.

I believe this is what a safe therapy space feels like.

If that is what you’re looking for, I’m here.

And we can begin wherever you are.

I work as a trauma-informed therapist and cycle healing practitioner. I support women in rebuilding trust with themselves — in mind, body, and rhythm. You can learn more about my approach here or book a 30-minute clarity call to explore our way forward.