What Kind of Therapy Am I Getting?

When someone comes into my office for the first time, I sometimes ask, “Do you know what kind of therapy I do?” Often, the answer is no.

I understand that answer. Most people looking for help are thinking about what is troubling them, not studying the many approaches to psychotherapy. They may reasonably expect me to listen, ask questions, and help. What they may not know is how I intend to help, or what our time together might feel like.

Therapy is not one uniform experience. Some approaches place considerable emphasis on exploring a person’s history or relationships. Others focus more directly on present concerns and skills a person can practice. Approaches may overlap, but their differences matter. The American Psychological Association describes several broad traditions and encourages people choosing a professional to ask about that person’s experience and approach (American Psychological Association [APA], n.d.-a, n.d.-b).

I welcome that conversation. I would like you to know something about my work before you make an appointment, and I would like you to feel comfortable asking questions once you arrive.

How I Work

My work draws substantially on Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy (REBT) and what I call Emotional Intelligence (Ei) improvement. I use an educational model. You bring knowledge of your life and experience; I bring a way of examining thoughts, words, emotions, and choices. Together, we use situations from your life to learn skills you can practice beyond our appointments.

REBT invites us to examine the beliefs we bring to events. We can ask whether a belief is accurate, whether it contains a rigid demand, and how it affects our ability to respond. REBT training describes an active approach that includes identifying a concern, asking questions, and practicing new responses (Albert Ellis Institute, n.d.).

In Ei improvement, I also pay close attention to language. I often say, “Emotion is an animation of thought.” The words we use may help us discover what we believe, expect, fear, or demand. Once we notice a thought, we have an opportunity to examine it.

For example, someone might say, “I cannot handle being questioned at work.” I would want to learn what cannot handle means to that person. Do questions bring discomfort? Does anxiety make it hard to gather their thoughts? Do they believe every answer must be immediate and precise? I cannot know until we talk about it. The exact words give us a place to begin.

How We Learn to Pause

You may notice that I sometimes pause you while you are speaking. I may have heard a word that seems important and want to bring it to your attention before we move past it.

Suppose you tell me, “My supervisor asked about a decision, and I knew I must give the perfect answer.” I might ask if we can stop at must for a moment. What does a perfect answer require? What would an imperfect answer mean about you? What do you imagine would happen next?

I am interested in your story. It helps me understand the situation and how you experienced it. I am also interested in the meaning you give the story as you tell it. Pausing gives us a chance to examine a thought while it is close enough for both of us to hear.

I know that an interruption can feel uncomfortable. You may need to finish what you are saying before we examine a particular word. You may feel that I have missed the point. Please tell me when that happens. I can explain what caught my attention, listen to your correction, and adjust with you. The working relationship and our agreement about what we are doing matter to the work (APA, 2021).

There is another reason I pause you: I want to teach you to recognize that moment for yourself. At first, I may hear must, always, never, or I can’t before you do. We can stop, examine the word, and consider what you were asking yourself to believe. With practice, you may begin to hear it as you speak. Eventually, you may hear it when I am nowhere nearby.

That is what I mean by learning to interrupt yourself. I do not mean silencing your feelings or scolding yourself for having a thought. I mean briefly stopping the thought’s movement toward a conclusion:

“I just said I must be certain. Is that true?”
“I said this always happens. Does it?”
“I said I can’t handle it. Do I mean it would be difficult, or that I truly could not respond?”

The pause gives you time to choose a question instead of accepting the first conclusion. You may find that the original thought was accurate. You may find that it was incomplete. Either way, you have paid attention to it rather than letting it make the decision for you.

How We Use Stories and the Hour

We have a limited amount of time together, so I try to give each appointment a direction. Your story helps me understand what happened, how you experienced it, and what you believe it means. Your history may also be essential to understanding a present concern. I want to make room for what matters to you.

I tell stories too. Mine are usually brief experiences from my life or from other people who have faced a similar difficulty and found a way through it. I use them to illustrate a point you are trying to make, to show that you are not alone in the difficulty, and to help us consider what might be possible. I do not expect someone else’s answer to become yours. A story may simply help you see your own situation from another angle.

Stories can also make a skill easier to remember. A short example may stay with you after a longer explanation has faded. Later, when you face a similar moment, you may recall what someone noticed, questioned, or tried—and use that memory to find your own next step. That is one way a story can bring both clarity and hope to our discussion.

As we talk, I listen for a connection between an experience and something you can use. We might examine a prediction, reconsider a conclusion about yourself, or practice another response to a difficult conversation. One of the skills we may practice is the pause itself: noticing your words, asking what they mean, and deciding whether the thought deserves to guide your response. Structured cognitive behavioral approaches similarly use examples from a person’s life to examine thoughts, feelings, and actions, with skills practiced beyond the appointment (National Health Service, 2025).

There will be appointments when we make clear progress and others when we need more time to understand the problem. I cannot promise that every concern will yield a solution in an hour. I can promise to be thoughtful about how we use that hour and to explain what I am asking you to do.

How to Find an Approach That Fits

Before making an appointment with any therapist, you might ask:

• “What approach do you use?”
• “What would an appointment with you usually look like?”
• “How do you decide what we will work on?”
• “Will we explore my history, practice skills, or do some of both?”
• “What might I try between appointments?”
• “How can I tell you if something about the approach is not helping?”

You do not need to know the names of forty approaches to ask those questions. You only need enough information to decide whether the person’s way of working makes sense to you.

I have tried to describe my approach because I would rather you arrive with a question than with a mistaken expectation you were never given a chance to examine. If you work with me, we will talk about your life and what brings you in. We will also pay attention to the words and thoughts that arise while you talk. At times, I may ask us to pause and look closely at one of them.

My hope is that, over time, you will not need me to call attention to every important word. You will hear yourself say must or I can’t. You will pause on your own and ask, “What am I telling myself right now, and how else might I understand this?” When you can interrupt a thought before it carries you away, you have taken something useful from our office into your life.