What to Do Between Therapy Sessions (The Real Answer)
Barbara GuimaraesWednesday afternoon. I'm sitting in my car after running errands, and suddenly a childhood memory surfaces—one my therapist and I discussed last week. My mind immediately goes into introspective mode, pulling at threads, connecting dots, needing to process. But my next appointment isn't for five days.
Maybe you know this feeling.
The 167-Hour Reality
There are 168 hours in a week. You spend one in therapy. What about the other 167?
That's where life actually happens. Where memories resurface, triggers show up, and your mind automatically shifts into processing mode—especially if you're someone who naturally dwells in your thoughts.
I used to think I was broken for needing more than one hour a week. I'd leave therapy and immediately start journaling because the session felt too fast, like I still needed help processing those insights. I kept a running note on my phone titled "things to talk about in therapy," which just kept growing. Real life kept happening between sessions, so by the time my next appointment came, I had an entirely new list to unpack.
The 167 hours is where life happens. Therapy helps you unpack and process some of it. That's enough for some people, but that's not enough for an introspective person who dwells in their mind.
For us, those 167 hours can feel like torture. And lonely.
What Doesn't Work
Generic advice: "Just practice mindfulness" or "remember what your therapist said." Right. When you're three layers deep into processing a childhood memory that just surfaced, mindfulness feels impossible and remembering therapy insights feels useless.
Trying to "be your own therapist": I tried this constantly. Because of my profession, I could get pretty deep when digging into my thoughts. But I'd spend too much time in there and wouldn't know how to spiral back to normal. Having someone to witness and guide you is completely different—it prevents the spirals from happening in the first place.
Telling friends everything: Even with good friends, there's only so much you can share. You might not want to disclose what you talked about in therapy, or you feel like they won't understand because they don't have the backstory. You'd have to explain everything from the beginning.
Waiting it out: For those of us whose triggers aren't dramatic events but simply our minds going into introspective mode—when boredom leads to processing, when quiet moments become deep dives—waiting five more days for your next session isn't realistic.
What Actually Works
After years of struggling in the gap between sessions, here's what I've learned:
The Brain Dump
When I feel that familiar spiral starting—when my mind is pulling me into processing mode—I set a timer for 10 minutes. I grab a piece of paper and write everything in my mind. I pay no attention to how the words come out or what the words even are.
Lately, I've been using voice recording even more. Sometimes speaking things out loud makes it easier to process than writing. There's something about hearing your own voice work through the tangle that's different from keeping it all internal.
Lean Into Curiosity
Instead of trying to shut down the introspective mode (which never worked for me anyway), I learned to work with it:
What about this is making me feel this way? What other times have I felt this way? What does this memory say about what I needed back then, and how can I give that to myself now?
The goal isn't to become your own therapist. It's staying curious instead of getting lost in the spiral.
The Inner Child Check-In
When those old memories surface, I try to remind my inner child—or whichever part of me is activated—that we're okay. We have the knowledge and experience to process this now. We are here now, not then, and we have complete control over how we let this situation affect us in this moment.
Perfect self-talk isn't the goal. Staying present with yourself instead of disappearing into the past is.
Finding Your People
The loneliness of the 167 hours taught me something crucial: different people need different levels of support, and some people need a little bit more support than one hour a week.
This isn't your therapist's fault. This isn't your fault. This is just what some of us need.
I started building community with people who understand what it's like to have an introspective mind. People who get that processing isn't optional for us—it's how we're wired. Having that understanding, that belonging, changes everything about how those between-session hours feel.
When You Know Something Works
Here's how I know if something is real support versus just sounding good: Does it work when your mind automatically goes into processing mode during a random Wednesday afternoon?
If it only works when you're calm and centered, it's not going to help you in the 167 hours. You need tools that work when life is lifing, when memories surface unexpectedly, when your mind does what introspective minds do.
The Space Between Doesn't Have to Be Torture
You're not broken for needing more than one hour a week. You're human, and you deserve support that matches how your mind actually works.
The 167 hours between sessions can become a space for gentle tending instead of lonely struggle. You don't have to figure it out alone.
If your mind works like mine—if you find yourself processing between appointments, if quiet moments become deep dives, if you need more than generic coping advice—I created something for you. The 167 Companion is a gentle survival kit for the hours between therapy sessions, designed specifically for introspective minds who need real tools, not platitudes.
And if you're looking for community with people who understand what it's like to have an introspective mind, join us in The Nest—where healing happens 24/7, not just during appointments.
