It’s wild how, surprisingly, no one really talks about therapy hangovers. Sure, everyone says, “Therapy’s great,” but almost nobody warns you that right after your session, your brain and body might throw a full-on tantrum.
But here’s the thing: you’re not broken or doing it wrong. Rather, your nervous system is just throwing a little tantrum because it’s been poked awake after a long nap in the deep trauma cave.
And that foggy, emotionally messy state? Well, it’s your brain’s way of processing the emotional upheaval you just unpacked. Think of it like your mind’s version of sore muscles after a workout, only this time, it’s your heart and soul getting stretched.
So many times after my weekly session, I would be exhausted and not able to think straight, and it was all because of these therapy hangovers.
What is a therapy hangover?
It’s that foggy, emotionally raw, post-session daze that can last hours or even days. You might feel:
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Tired (like… soul tired)
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Irritable for no reason
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Anxious or overexposed
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Detached or floaty
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Like all your inner children are suddenly mad at you
This happens because therapy, especially deep trauma work like CPTSD, IFS, or EMDR, really digs in. You’re not just “talking about your feelings.” Instead, you’re confronting old wounds, challenging survival patterns, and sometimes pulling the pin out of emotional grenades you buried 20 years ago.
Naturally, your system goes into full WTF mode afterward. But don’t mistake this for regression; it’s actually recalibration.
It’s actually recalibration.
So, what do you do when the therapy hangover hits, and you feel like your brain’s been scrambled in an emotional blender? Over the years, I’ve found a few go-to moves that helped me ride it out without totally losing my mind:
5 Things That Actually Help
Here’s what can help when the post-therapy spiral kicks in:
1. Silence & Soft Things
Your nervous system is overstimulated. Skip the group chat, mute notifications, and go full potato mode. Weighted blankets, cozy socks, dim lights, yes, you’re allowed to be a cliché. It helps.
2. Gentle Grounding
Nothing intense. Just basic stuff to get back in your body:
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Hold a warm mug with both hands
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Rinse your face with cold water
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Touch something with texture (a stone, a fuzzy pillow, a judgmental cat)
The goal isn’t to feel “great,” just a little less like you’re drifting out of your own skin.
3. Eat Something That Doesn’t Hurt You
This is not the time for kale. It’s the time for something warm, easy, and nostalgic. Soup? Yes. Toast? Ideal. An entire sleeve of graham crackers while watching “Great British Bake-Off”? That’s your business.
4. Label It Without Judging It
Instead of spiraling into “Why do I feel like this?” try telling yourself,
“Oh, this is just the therapy hangover. My brain’s processing a lot. That’s allowed.”
Sometimes, naming the thing steals its power. It helps you move from panic to compassion.
5. Future You Prep (If You Can)
If you know therapy hits you hard, try scheduling something kind after it next time. A walk. A nap. Absolutely nothing. I learned to treat post-therapy time like I’m recovering from minor surgery. Because emotionally? I was.
Final Thought: You’re Not Doing It Wrong
The therapy hangover isn’t a sign of weakness or failure. Instead, it’s a signal that you’re reaching parts of yourself that stayed hidden for a reason. Now that those parts are coming up to be seen, they need care, not criticism.
So yeah. You’re tired. Maybe a little weepy. Maybe your inner 9-year-old is sulking in the corner. And you know what? That’s totally fine.
That’s healing.
And healing is weird.
Photo by Matteo Vistocco on Unsplash
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Born and raised in Boston, Jack Brody has called New York City home for over 30 years. He’s a proud father to a teenage daughter, a survivor of childhood abuse, and someone who knows firsthand what it means to live with Complex PTSD.
Diagnosed six years ago, Jack has been on a deep healing journey, one marked by therapy, growth, hard truths, and unexpected resilience. As a men’s mental health advocate, he shares his story to remind others that they’re not broken, not alone, and never beyond hope.
Whether through his writing, podcast, or quiet conversations with fellow survivors, Jack’s mission is simple: to speak honestly about the hard stuff, and to show that healing out loud is not only possible, it’s powerful.
This is such a wonderful piece! It is full of such kind wisdom. Thank you, Jack.
Thank you so much, Betsy. That really means a lot to me. I’m so glad the piece resonated with you.
Thanks for writing this!! It is validating and so helpful.
My somatic experiencing therapist always tells me after therapy to take it easy, rest, do things that gently ground me. I always thought that was something I shouldn’t “have” to do, that I was “abnormal” or even weak to need to rest or take a nap after a session.
I soon realized if I don’t listen to my mind/body telling me it needs to rest, then I am frozen/shutdown the next day. It is so easy to fall back into the “I need to power through” mentality. It just makes things worse. Rest is healing.
That “power through” mentality is so deeply ingrained for so many of us, and it can be hard to unlearn. But you’re so right: rest is healing. It’s not a weakness, it’s actually a sign of deep strength to listen to what your body and nervous system are asking for.
I love that your somatic therapist reminds you to ground gently after sessions. That kind of care and self-awareness is everything when you’re doing deep work. You’re not alone in needing that pause, and honestly, more of us need permission to just be after the hard stuff.
Thank you for naming a feeling I had after trauma digging therapy
You’re so welcome. Those post-therapy feelings can be so hard to put into words, sometimes it just feels like a fog, or like your whole system is offline. Naming it helps it feel a little less lonely, a little more real. You’re not the only one feeling that way, and you’re definitely not alone in it.
Thank you so much for putting words to this. I was just reflecting on it this week and not in a kindly way. Your words have given me the compassion and understanding I need to be able to embrace it going forward 🙂
That means so much, thank you for saying that. I totally get how easy it is to slip into self-criticism when you’re in the thick of reflection, especially around something as tender as post-trauma processing. I’m really glad my words could offer a little compassion and a softer lens. You deserve that kindness, especially from yourself. Be gentle with you, you’re doing the work