When Words Meet the Body

Most people say they “go to therapy.” Almost nobody tells you what actually happens there.

Part 1: What I Found in Psychotherapy

What happens in a psychotherapy room?

What do people actually talk about there?

And can conversation really change what is happening in the body?

From the outside, therapy can feel like a private territory that we shouldn’t ask about. Especially for highly sensitive and empathetic people, it can feel intrusive to ask someone about their healing process.

But then a question naturally appears: how are we supposed to know what might help us, if nobody ever describes the experience?

In Sensitive Enough Movement I often write about different forms of therapy and healing practices. I do this not only to make these spaces less mysterious, but also to reflect honestly on what works and what does not. I also write about them through the lens of high sensitivity which is something that is still surprisingly absent in many therapeutic settings.

I am aware that readers arrive here with very different levels of familiarity with therapy. Here on Substack it sometimes feels as if everyone is already deeply immersed in somatic work, energetic healing, or many different forms of alternative therapy. In everyday life, however, I rarely meet people who actually attend psychotherapy regularly or openly talk about what the experience looks like.

In this two-part piece I will focus specifically on psychotherapy — the form of therapy based primarily on conversation, often called talk therapy. It was something I experienced at a psychosomatic clinic, and the path that led me there might be useful for some of you as well.

Sensitive Enough Movement is written mainly for highly sensitive women who live with recurring physical or emotional symptoms and who are trying to understand themselves more deeply. Over time I have explored many different approaches to healing, some quite specialized, others more widely known.

One experience that shaped my understanding profoundly was my time at a psychosomatic clinic.

Before describing the psychotherapy itself, I want to start with the clinic experience, because it was something quite unusual and meaningful in its own way.

What Happens at a Psychosomatic Clinic

Psychosomatics is a field of medicine and psychology that studies the relationship between psychological states and physical symptoms. It recognizes that the body and mind are closely interconnected and constantly influencing each other. Instead of treating symptoms in isolation, psychosomatic medicine attempts to look at the person as a whole including emotional, relational, and psychological factors that may contribute to physical difficulties. My first article about psychosomatics can be found here:

You Will Not Truly Heal Anything Without This One Component

I discovered the clinic almost by accident while searching online. It happened to be in the city where I live, not far from my home. At the time it felt like coincidence. Looking back, it feels more like one of those moments when you become ready for something and the right opportunity suddenly appears.

At the clinic I described my life and the symptoms that had been accompanying me for a long time. For readers who may be encountering my writing for the first time, I describe these recurring symptoms in more detail here:

Sensitive Enough Movement Is Open

The clinic took my physical complaints seriously. I underwent neurological examinations and an X-ray of my entire spine, and physiotherapy was prescribed as well.

For the first time, a medical authority openly acknowledged something that felt very important to me: that the physical pain I was describing might be closely connected to my mental and emotional state. All my examinations showed no structural physical issues, and I was placed on the waiting list for a psychotherapist.

Most of this care was even covered by my health insurance, which felt like a surprisingly supportive experience compared with some of my earlier medical encounters.

Working With the Body: Physiotherapy

The physiotherapy itself, however, did not bring the relief we had hoped for. The physiotherapist was kind and attentive, and we had many topics in common. Yet professionally she simply did not know how to work with my body. As had happened many times before, I was able to perform all the exercises without difficulty and stretch in every direction required. The problem was not the exercises themselves. The problem was that the pain remained.

By that time I had already learned to recognize the early signals of my neck pain and prevent the worst episodes. Ever since my experience with acupressure, I had been able to sense when the tension in my neck was building and intervene before it reached its most severe stage.

Still, the pain never truly disappeared. Instead it seemed to move through my body, appearing in different places at different times. This “wandering” of pain reminded me of something else I had experienced before — my rare skin condition, ichthyosis, which also seemed to move across different parts of my body over the years.

At that time the most persistent pain lived in my right shoulder and in the lower part of my back and pelvis.

After several physiotherapy sessions that felt completely ineffective for my body, I found myself mostly waiting for one thing: being assigned a psychotherapist.

The Role of a Therapist

In my writing I often return to the role of the therapeutic relationship, especially for highly sensitive people. Healing requires a level of safety that allows the nervous system to soften and become open to change. For that reason I have come to believe that for highly sensitive individuals the relationship with the therapist often matters even more than the specific therapeutic method itself.

Ideally, sensitivity should not be an afterthought in the healing process. It should be one of its central points.

Over the years I have encountered many different combinations: a good therapist with a helpful method, a good therapist with an insufficient method, and situations where neither truly worked.

The physiotherapist I met at the clinic was an example of a warm and supportive relationship paired with an approach that simply did not meet the needs of my highly sensitive body.

Psychotherapy, however, especially psychotherapy within the psychosomatic setting, brought a very different experience.

Working Through Language: Psychotherapy

Psychotherapy in general is a form of treatment that focuses on emotional, psychological, and behavioral patterns. Through structured conversations and various psychological approaches, it helps people better understand their feelings, thoughts, and reactions. The goal is not only to reduce distress but also to improve overall well-being and quality of life.

In my case the psychotherapy offered at the clinic was individual psychodynamically oriented therapy. The sessions were based mainly on open conversation and exploration. Rather than following a strict structure or using specific exercises, the aim was to understand the connections between my physical symptoms, emotional experiences, and the relational patterns in my life.

Each week I came for a one-hour session. We spoke about what was currently unfolding in my life, about relationships, inner tensions, and situations that triggered emotional responses. Because I had originally come to the clinic with physical complaints, I also spoke often about the sensations in my body and the symptoms I was experiencing. Sometimes the therapist would ask where exactly in my body I felt a certain emotion or tension.

The therapy itself did not include specific body-based exercises or techniques for releasing these sensations. Instead the work focused on gradually naming and understanding the connections between emotional life and bodily experience. This approach assumes that physical symptoms, emotions, and life experiences are closely intertwined, and that bringing these connections into awareness can lead to a deeper understanding of oneself.

I attended therapy for about two years — first year and a half weekly, and later every two weeks, by mutual agreement.

This process was not about passively receiving advice. It was about creating a safe space where I could express everything openly and explore what my pain might be trying to communicate. Through this relationship and my own active approach, I was able to better understand my mind, my body, and my symptoms much more deeply than through any medical examination I had experienced before. Psychotherapy became an important part of my healing journey. But over time another realization slowly appeared.

Understanding myself and actually healing were not the same thing.

For my highly sensitive nervous system, talking was powerful but it was not the whole answer.

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Psychotherapy can be a powerful place.

But the way you enter it and the way you participate in it can change everything.

In the next piece, I share how I approached my therapy sessions, what they truly helped heal, and what they opened for me in the process. I also reflect on how this kind of therapy can be most supportive for highly sensitive people.

And you may discover something many of us eventually do: talking therapy can open the door to healing, but sometimes the body asks for more.