Trueform Therapy

Tag: depression

  • Walking Side by Side: What Happens When Therapy Leaves the Room

    Therapy doesn’t have to happen in a beige room with a box of tissues on the table.

    I’ve known for a long time that walking is where my own real thinking happens. Not at a desk, not when I’m trying hard to think, but on a path somewhere, moving, with my eyes on the trees rather than on a screen. Things that felt knotted untangle. Words arrive that wouldn’t come when I was sitting still.

    For a while I assumed this was just a personal quirk. It turns out it isn’t. And it raises a question I find myself asking more and more: if many of us think more freely when we’re moving and outside, why do we assume that the hardest conversations of our lives have to happen sitting down, indoors, facing each other?

    Walk-and-talk counselling session in a park – therapist and client walking side by side, outdoor therapy for anxiety, stress, and burnout, promoting mental health through movement and nature.

    Why the Words Come More Easily

    There’s a moment I think many people recognise. Some of the most honest conversations happen in the car, or on a long walk, or while washing up side by side. Not across a table. Not eye to eye.

    There’s research that helps explain this. Psychologists studying gaze have found that looking at a face takes up a surprising amount of mental effort. In one study, Gwyneth Doherty-Sneddon and her colleagues taught young children to look away when they were thinking through a hard question, and those children answered challenging questions noticeably better than children who hadn’t been taught to do this. Studies with adults point the same way: looking away from a face seems to free up space for remembering and thinking.

    I find this striking when I think about therapy. We often treat looking away as avoidance, a sign that someone isn’t really engaging. But it may be the opposite. Looking away can be how we make room to think.

    Walking adds something else. In a well-known set of experiments at Stanford, Marily Oppezzo and Daniel Schwartz found that people came up with noticeably more creative ideas while walking than while sitting, and the effect carried on for a while after they sat back down. That research was about generating ideas, not about therapy. But anyone who has ever solved a problem halfway round the park will recognise it.

    Put the two together and you get something interesting. Walking side by side, you’re not managing eye contact. Your body is moving. Your attention can drift to the path and back again. For many people, that combination makes it easier to say the thing they’ve been circling for weeks.

    This matters especially for people who find the traditional therapy room demanding in itself: the eye contact, the stillness, the feeling of being watched while you try to find the right words. For a lot of people, including many autistic people and people with ADHD, a face-to-face hour can feel like a performance. Moving through an open space can take some of that pressure off. I want to be honest that this is an area where therapists’ experience is ahead of the published research. But it’s something I take seriously.

    Photo by Janusz Walczak on Pexels.com

    What the Evidence Actually Says

    Nature and mental health is a field where enthusiasm often runs ahead of the evidence, so it’s worth being careful.

    The strongest overview I know of is a 2021 review led by Peter Coventry at the University of York, which pooled fifty studies of nature-based activities, from walking groups to gardening. In the randomised trials, people who took part showed meaningful improvements in mood and anxiety, and a clear increase in positive feelings, compared with people who didn’t. The most effective programmes ran for eight to twelve weeks, with sessions of between twenty and ninety minutes, which fits neatly with how counselling is usually offered.

    There are caveats. Many of the studies were small, and some had weaknesses in how they were designed, so the size of the benefit may be less than the headline numbers suggest. It’s also worth noticing that most of this research is about time in nature, not therapy in nature. It tells us green space is good for us. It doesn’t tell us that walking therapy beats sitting therapy.

    The research on walk-and-talk therapy itself is much thinner. A small pilot study at the University of Newcastle in Australia compared walk-and-talk with indoor therapy for 37 men with low mood. The walking group showed a bigger drop in overall distress, and both groups improved equally on standard measures of depression. But, interestingly, the indoor group did better on a measure of what researchers call “masculine-type” depression, the kind that shows up as irritability, anger or withdrawal. It’s an early, small study, and a larger trial is now under way. For now, the honest summary is: promising, not proven.

    There’s also research that listens to people’s own experiences. A 2026 review from the University of Manchester gathered studies in which people described what nature-based therapy had meant to them. Many said that being outdoors helped them work through painful emotions, accept difficult changes and reconnect with a sense of purpose. Some described simple moments, like watching trees grow, decay and renew, as giving them permission to accept change in their own lives. That’s not the kind of evidence that proves something works. But it tells us something about how it might help.

    The UK government has also trialled green social prescribing across seven sites in England, where people were referred to things like community gardening and nature walks. In the first area to publish results, Humber and North Yorkshire, people’s wellbeing, mood and anxiety improved, especially among those who took part for nine to twelve weeks. There was no comparison group, though, so we can’t be sure how much of that change came from the activities themselves.

    Photo by Farhaan Mushtaq Parimoo on Pexels.com

    What a Session Looks Like

    At Trueform Therapy, I offer walk-and-talk sessions in Cardiff. It isn’t the main way I work, but it draws on the same things I already do in the therapy room: paying attention to what the body is doing, using pace and pauses, and making a space where you don’t have to perform being okay.

    A session lasts about fifty minutes, the same as a standard counselling hour. Before we start, we’ll talk about the route, what you’ll need to wear and any mobility or sensory needs you have. I choose paths with privacy in mind, where we’re unlikely to be overheard, with places to stop. Some sessions involve walking the whole time. Others include pauses on a bench, when a conversation needs to slow down.

    We’ll also agree what happens if we meet someone you know, and what we’ll do if the weather turns. In Wales, rain isn’t a reason to cancel, but there’s always an alternative if being outside becomes impractical or unsafe. The session still has a shape — a beginning, a middle and an ending — even when the scenery keeps changing.

    You can read more about how I work here: Counselling Sessions

    When the Room Is the Better Choice

    Walking isn’t right for everyone, or for every moment.

    If someone is in acute crisis, or needs the steadiness and containment of a familiar, private room, indoors is usually the better place to start. The same is true for people with agoraphobia, or for some kinds of trauma work where feeling physically held and safe in one place matters a great deal. Significant mobility barriers need careful thought too, although good practitioners can adapt a lot, from step-free routes to quieter paths and regular places to rest.

    None of this is a permanent “no”. It’s a reason to be honest about where you are now. Outdoor work can be something you build towards, or something you mix with sessions indoors.

    And the Newcastle study is a useful reminder that indoor therapy has its own strengths. For some people and some kinds of struggle, sitting still in a room may be exactly what’s needed.

    Photo by Csenteri Arthur on Pexels.com

    Safety, Privacy and the Weather

    Taking therapy outside raises practical and ethical questions, and professional bodies have taken them seriously. The BACP highlights confidentiality, contracting, risk assessment and weather plans as the key issues to think through. The Institute for Outdoor Learning publishes good-practice guidance on what to look for in an outdoor therapist, and the British Psychological Society produced guidance on taking therapy outdoors in 2021.

    In practice, a good outdoor therapist will talk you through how outdoor sessions differ from indoor ones before you start. They’ll have thought about the route, including privacy and what happens if you meet someone you know. They’ll have a clear plan for bad weather and cancellations, and they’ll be willing to adapt to your physical and sensory needs.

    If a therapist can’t answer questions about these things, that’s worth noticing.

    If You’re Thinking About Trying It

    It can help to ask yourself a few honest questions first. Are you comfortable with a bit of weather and uneven ground? Do you have mobility or sensory needs that would need planning for? Do you feel steady enough, right now, to work without the containment of a room?

    When you speak to a therapist, it’s reasonable to ask what training they have for outdoor work, how they plan routes and assess risk, and what happens when the weather makes it impractical. In the UK, outdoor sessions usually cost about the same as indoor ones. Directories such as the BACP’s Therapist Directory or Counselling Directory let you search for therapists who offer outdoor work, and if cost is a barrier, your GP or local Mind may know of lower-cost options nearby.

    Small Doses

    If getting outside for therapy isn’t possible right now, some of what makes it helpful can still find its way into your day. A short walk before a difficult conversation. Sitting near a window during a phone call. A few minutes in a garden or a park at the end of the day.

    One small study found that just twenty to thirty minutes in a natural space was enough to lower levels of the stress hormone cortisol. That’s not therapy, and it’s not a cure. But it’s a reminder that our bodies respond to where we put them.

    Where the Words Come More Easily

    If you’ve sat in a therapy room and found the words wouldn’t come, it may not be because you weren’t ready, or weren’t trying hard enough. It may simply be that the room wasn’t the right place for you to think.

    Trueform Therapy offers one-to-one support in person in Cardiff, including walk-and-talk sessions, and online across the UK and EU. Whether you’re burned out, overwhelmed, or struggling beneath an exterior that seems to be coping, you don’t have to be in crisis to deserve support. You can read more about counselling sessions and get in touch to see whether this feels like the right fit for where you are now.

    If You Want to Explore These Ideas Further

    If the link between walking and thinking interests you, Shane O’Mara’s In Praise of Walking (2019) is a lively, readable account by a neuroscientist of what walking does for the brain.

    For a therapist’s perspective on taking sessions outside, William Pullen’s Run for Your Life (2017) describes his own approach to combining movement and talking therapy.

    And if you’d like to look at the research directly:

  • Therapists Are People Too: What You Really Get in Counselling

    You probably imagine your therapist living a flawless life: a spotless apartment, a white fence outside, a matcha latte in hand, never raising their voice or losing their temper.

    Maybe you picture us gliding through every awkward or painful moment with calm wisdom, always knowing the right thing to say, as if a secret emotional cheat sheet lives in our brains. Sometimes you worry that if you cry, or tell me about a fight over something as trivial as the dishwasher, I’ll silently judge you—or worse, crumble under the weight of your story. That’s understandable.

    But the truth is far less glamorous. I lose my keys. I forget birthdays. I’ve sat through a client session wearing an inside-out t-shirt and didn’t notice until halfway through. My cat will sometimes leap onto my lap during a Zoom session, scaring me senseless, and I can’t help but shriek. Somehow, feeling tangled in my own life allows me to sit with yours too.

    TV and Social Media Lie to You

    We all have seen therapists on TV or social media: composed, neat, glasses perched, nodding thoughtfully in their green cardigan. That image seeps into our expectations, even if you’ve never met a real therapist. In reality, most of us start out in our therapy training learning how to listen and be present, not how to perform perfection.

    Real therapy doesn’t come with a green cardigan or a perfect smile.

    Some clients look surprised when I sit cross-legged in the chair, sip my tea mid-session, glance away while thinking, or laugh at something absurd that happens in the moment, like a dog barking nonstop during a particularly heavy story. Those pauses don’t mean distraction. They are simply humans at work. And unsurprisingly, research confirms what feels obvious in practice: clients often assume professionals have life figured out, when what actually matters is empathy, attention, and a willingness to sit with difficult feelings.

    Humans at Work, Not Robots

    Therapists are trained in psychological techniques, not in living flawlessly. We notice patterns, ask questions, and hold space, but life remains messy. I’ve snapped at my partner, cried over shows I have been rewatching a hundred times, and laughed at moments I shouldn’t have.

    Once, a client apologised for sending a drunken text to an ex; instead of judging, I laughed with them, and that shared moment became a doorway into understanding shame, embarrassment, and communication. These moments only deepen the work. Sessions are about sitting together in the middle of what feels complicated, noticing it, exploring it, and sometimes finding humour in the absurdity of being human.

    Busting Therapy Myths

    There are plenty of myths floating around beyond TV and social media. Some people think therapy is only for people in crisis. Others imagine therapists have all the answers, like sages with plans for every life problem.

    The reality is simpler and stranger: we show up, curious, paying attention, ready to reflect and respond without knowing the future or holding a master manual. Some days we have the same ordinary anxieties you do, the same confusion, the same “how did I get here?” thoughts. That shared uncertainty is exactly what allows us to sit with your experience.

    Freedom in Imperfection

    Knowing that your therapist isn’t perfect can be quietly freeing. You don’t have to hide the awkward or confusing parts of your life or apologise for moments you barely understand yourself. Therapy is a space to explore those moments without judgement. You can learn to notice patterns, test ideas, and pay attention to what matters. And sometimes, the most memorable part isn’t the insight or the technique. It’s the sense that someone sees you, really sees you, and sits with you anyway.

    Therapists being human matters beyond the therapy room. Life itself is chaotic, confusing, and occasionally absurd. Connecting with someone who understands that reality changes how you experience your own life. You begin to notice yourself, your reactions, and the humour tucked into difficult moments. You realise you don’t have to act, hide, or carry everything alone.

    Sometimes the most memorable part of therapy isn’t the insight, but the sense that someone really sees you.

    If the idea of therapy has felt intimidating, imagining someone flawless sitting across from you, know that you’ll find none of that. You’ll find a human who can hold space for what’s heavy, strange, or even embarrassing without judgement, without expectation, and sometimes with a shared laugh at life’s absurdities. If you’re ready to explore your thoughts and feelings, to feel understood and noticed, you’re welcome to reach out. You won’t find quick fixes, but you will find someone who notices, stays with you, and makes the load lighter.

  • For the Ones Who Always Say They’re Fine: Why Therapy Isn’t Just for Breakdowns

    Someone walked into my therapy room today and said something that stayed with me long after they left.

    “I don’t usually cry. I always say I’m fine. But I’m not. And I think I need help.”

    It hit me—because I know that person. Not just professionally, but personally. I’ve been that person. Maybe you have too.

    The one who’s always coping.
    Always keeping it together.
    Always the strong one.
    Smiling in meetings, replying to texts, asking others how they’re doing—while quietly falling apart behind the scenes.

    When someone like that finally reaches out for support, it’s not because they’re weak. It’s because they’re exhausted from carrying everything alone.

    This blog is for you if you’re the person who seems “fine”.
    If no one ever asks how you’re really doing—because you’re so good at making it look easy.
    If you’ve ever wondered whether therapy is “for people like you”.

    It is. And I’ll explain why.

    The Hidden Weight of “I’m Fine”

    Let’s be honest—“I’m fine” is one of the biggest lies we all agree to tell. It’s a socially acceptable way of saying, “Please don’t ask me anything deeper right now, I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

    And if you’re someone who always says you’re fine, chances are you’ve been carrying a quiet kind of pressure for a long time. The pressure to hold it together. To be the reliable one. The strong one. The one who keeps going, no matter what.

    But here’s the thing: being the strong one often means no one thinks to ask how you’re doing. You’ve made it look like you don’t need help—so people assume you don’t. Meanwhile, your mind is racing, your body’s exhausted, and your emotional tank is running on fumes.

    Strength isn’t the absence of struggle. And appearing calm doesn’t mean you’re not battling a storm inside.

    This is the part of anxiety and burnout that doesn’t always get talked about. It’s not loud or dramatic—it’s quiet, consistent, and incredibly heavy. And because you’re so used to managing it all, it can be hard to recognise just how much it’s weighing you down.

    The Courage to Ask for Help

    Here’s what people don’t always realise: asking for help when you’re used to being the one who holds it all together is huge. It’s not just a small step—it’s a full-blown emotional U-turn.

    Because if you’ve spent years being “the strong one”, the idea of sitting in a room and saying, “Actually, I’m not okay,” can feel terrifying. Vulnerable. Exposed.

    It’s not because you don’t want support—it’s because asking for it means admitting (to yourself and someone else) that you’re not invincible. That maybe you can’t do it all alone anymore. And for people who’ve built an identity around keeping things together, that can feel like failure.

    But it’s not.

    It’s bravery.

    It’s a shift from surviving to healing. From pushing through to slowing down. From coping silently to being seen, fully and honestly.

    I’ve had clients walk into their first session with shaky voices, apologising for crying, downplaying their struggles, and saying things like, “I don’t even know why I’m here—I’m just tired all the time.”

    And honestly? That sentence says so much.

    Because behind it is the weight of everything they’ve been carrying without complaint. The missed opportunities to rest. The anxiety they’ve never named. The sadness they’ve buried under productivity.

    So if that’s you—if just saying “I need help” feels uncomfortable or unnatural—I want you to know: it’s okay. You’re not too late. You’re not too much. And you’re definitely not weak.

    You’re just finally letting someone walk alongside you. And that takes guts.

    Why Therapy Is Different

    If you’re someone who rarely opens up, the idea of talking to a complete stranger about your feelings might sound… strange. Uncomfortable. A little too exposed. And I get it—it’s not exactly something most of us are taught to do.

    But here’s the thing about therapy: it’s not like talking to a friend. And it’s definitely not like talking to your boss, your mum, or that one well-meaning person who says, “Have you tried yoga?” every time you mention feeling stressed.

    Therapy is different.

    It’s a space that doesn’t need you to perform, please, or pretend. You don’t have to smile if you don’t feel like it. You don’t have to make anyone else comfortable. You don’t even have to know where to start.

    There’s no script. No pressure to be “the good client.”
    You just show up. However you are. Messy, tired, guarded, emotional—all of it’s welcome.

    What makes therapy powerful isn’t just the techniques or tools (although those can be helpful). It’s the relationship. The part where someone actually listens—like really listens—not to respond or fix you, but to understand you.

    That kind of space is rare in everyday life. And for people who’ve spent years editing themselves, shrinking their feelings, or pushing through without complaint, it can feel like a breath of fresh air.

    So if you’ve never had a space where you could just be, therapy might be the first place where you don’t have to wear the mask.
    And that can be the beginning of everything.

    Signs You Might Be Holding It All Together

    Not everyone who’s overwhelmed looks overwhelmed. Some people are still showing up to work, replying to texts, smiling at the school gate, and cracking jokes in group chats—while quietly falling apart inside.

    Sound familiar?

    If you’ve been carrying more than you let on, here are a few signs that you might be holding it all together on the outside but struggling underneath:

    • You always say “I’m fine”—even when you’re not.
    • You feel guilty for resting, like you have to earn it.
    • You don’t really cry, and when you do, it feels like a crisis.
    • You’re the person everyone leans on, but you don’t know how to lean back.
    • You feel anxious a lot, but you hide it well.
    • You keep busy because slowing down feels… uncomfortable.
    • You have thoughts like, “I should be able to handle this.”

    You might not be in crisis. You might not even be able to pinpoint what’s wrong. But there’s this low hum of exhaustion, pressure, or sadness that never really goes away.

    That’s not weakness. That’s your nervous system waving a little flag, saying, “Hey, maybe we don’t have to carry all of this alone anymore.”

    Therapy doesn’t just help when things fall apart—it helps prevent them from getting to that point. It’s a space to put the weight down, even if it’s just for an hour a week.

    You’re allowed to ask for support even if no one else sees how heavy it’s been.

    You Deserve Support Too

    Let’s just say it plainly: you don’t need to hit rock bottom to justify getting help.

    You don’t need to be in pieces. You don’t need a crisis, a diagnosis, or a dramatic reason. Sometimes, the most powerful reason is simply this: you’re tired of carrying it alone.

    If you’ve spent your life being the capable one, the supportive one, the person who always figures it out—then letting someone else support you might feel a little weird at first. Like you’re breaking some unspoken rule.

    But here’s the truth: you’ve been strong for a long time.
    Now it’s time to be supported, too.

    Therapy isn’t about turning you into someone new—it’s about helping you reconnect with the version of yourself that doesn’t have to wear armour all the time.
    The version that gets to rest.
    The version that gets to feel.
    The version that gets to say, “Actually, I’m not fine—and that’s okay.”

    So if you’re wondering whether it’s time to talk to someone, consider this your permission slip.
    You don’t have to be “bad enough” for therapy.
    You just have to be honest enough to say, “I want things to feel different.”

    That’s more than enough to begin.

    If you’re ready to feel less alone in what you’re carrying, I’m here.

    👉 Book your first session at www.trueformtherapy.co.uk