“I Don’t Feel Anything — Am I Doing This Wrong?”
Why Your Honest Answer Matters in Trauma-Focused Therapy (and All Therapy, Really)
TL;DR: There is no “right” way to respond in trauma-focused therapy. Whether you notice a strong emotion, numbness, confusion, the urge to shut down, or nothing at all, your real experience gives your therapist important information about what your system needs. For many trauma survivors, though, being honest about what they feel was not always safe, so trust and openness may take time. In EMDR, IFS, and somatic therapy, healing isn’t about producing the expected response. It’s about creating enough safety to notice what’s actually there and work with it at a pace that feels possible.
If you’ve ever sat in a therapy session, been asked “What are you noticing right now?” or “Where do you feel that in your body?” — and felt a small wave of panic because the honest answer was nothing, or I hate this, or I have no idea — this post is for you.
In trauma-focused therapies like EMDR, Internal Family Systems (IFS), and somatic work, your therapist will ask you, again and again, to report on your internal experience. And many clients quietly assume there’s a right answer — something vivid and meaningful — and that if their honest answer doesn’t match it, they’re failing at therapy.
Here’s the truth: there is no right answer. There is only your answer, and it’s exactly what makes this work possible. But a second truth has to sit right beside the first, or the first becomes unfair: for many trauma survivors, honestly reporting your experience is precisely the thing that was never safe to do. If you find it hard, there are very good reasons — and none of them are your fault.
Why Your Real Answer Matters
EMDR, IFS, and somatic therapy all work with what is actually happening inside you, in real time.
They aren’t scripts your therapist runs at you — they follow your system: your body, your emotions, your protections, your pace.
That makes your moment-to-moment report the compass for the whole session.
“My chest feels tight” — we can work with that. “Honestly, I went blank” — we can work with that too. “I don’t like this, and I want to stop” — that’s not a disruption of the therapy. That is the therapy. Something in you just spoke up, and it deserves to be listened to.
The Double Bind No One Talks About
Now notice what therapy is asking of you here — because it’s a lot.
Trauma is relational. For many survivors, the wound wasn’t only what happened; it was what happened when they tried to tell someone. They said, “that hurt” and were told it didn’t. They showed a feeling, and it was mocked, punished, or used against them. They learned — accurately, in the world they were living in — that reporting their inner experience to someone with more power was dangerous.
And then they walk into therapy, where a person with more power — the credentials, the office, the ability to write things down about you — asks: How do you really feel?
That’s a genuine double bind. The thing that would help the work most is the thing your history taught you never to do. So, if part of you goes quiet, edits your answers, or watches your therapist’s face to figure out what they want to hear — that isn’t dishonesty or resistance. It’s a brilliant, well-earned survival skill showing up exactly where you’d expect it to. Honest reporting is not something you owe your therapist. It becomes gradually possible — at your pace, on your terms — as the relationship proves itself trustworthy. Making honesty safe enough is the therapist’s responsibility, not yours alone.
“But I Don’t Feel Anything”
Numbness, blankness, feeling foggy, suddenly thinking about your grocery list — these aren’t signs you’re bad at therapy. Very often, a protective part of you is doing its job. Somewhere along the way, your system learned that certain feelings weren’t safe to feel, and it built strategies to keep them at a distance — strategies that may have gotten you through the unbearable.
So when numbness shows up, it isn’t an absence of material. It is material. In IFS we might get curious about the part that turns the volume down; in somatic work, we might notice what the numbness itself feels like; in EMDR, “I noticed nothing” is a perfectly valid report. Even “nothing” tells us something true about where your system is right now.
This Takes Time — and That Makes Complete Sense
Noticing your inner experience is a skill almost none of us were taught.
Most of us were trained in the opposite direction: Stop crying. You’re fine. Push through. We’re rewarded for composure and productivity, not for pausing to notice our chest or our gut.
Being asked to “notice what you feel” can be like being asked to speak a language you were never taught — and were actively discouraged from learning.
And when something inside carries pain, it’s natural — wired-in, intelligent — to steer away from it.
That avoidance rarely looks like avoidance:
overthinking instead of feeling
dissociating
staying relentlessly busy
reaching for substances
scrolling for hours
These are adaptations. They’re how trauma survivors survive.
So if your honest report is “I’m mostly in my head” or “I noticed the urge to check out” for months — that isn’t slow progress. That is progress. The disconnection took years to build for good reasons; the reconnection deserves time too.
Every System Is Different
Your needs, your protective strategies, and your capacities aren’t the same as anyone else’s. One person drops easily into body sensation; another has wisely stayed out of their body for decades and needs a slower path back in. One system opens quickly; another — for very good reasons — tests the ground first. None of this is better or worse. It’s exactly why the work depends on your real experience being welcome in the room, especially the hard-to-say things like “this isn’t working for me” or “I need to slow down” — offered as trust grows, not owed on demand.
Real processing may also look nothing like you expected — no catharsis, no dramatic breakthrough. It can be quiet, strange, subtle, even boring. That’s not evidence you’re doing it wrong; it’s evidence that your healing is taking the shape that fits you.
What This Asks of Your Therapist
Honest reporting is a two-way street, and the heavier end belongs to the therapist. The power difference in the room is real, and a trauma therapist who takes it seriously doesn’t just hope you’ll feel safe — they work at it. They welcome “no” as good news. They treat numbness with curiosity, not frustration. They don’t need your experience to look a certain way to feel effective. And they notice the slight bracing, the too-quick “I’m fine” — and slow down instead of pushing past it.
That safety isn’t a bonus feature of trauma therapy; it’s a precondition. Trust is built, not assumed, and a good trauma therapist expects to earn it — knowing your caution isn’t an obstacle to the work. It’s wisdom, arriving early.
An Invitation
So here is the invitation — and it is an invitation, not an assignment: bring your real answers, at whatever pace feels possible.
→ Bring “nothing.”
→ Bring “I don’t know.”
→ Bring “I was in my head the whole time.”
→ Bring “I think I’m doing this wrong” — say that one out loud too, because it’s often the doorway to something important.
And if you notice you can’t be fully honest yet — if some part of you is still guarding the door — let that be okay.
That part kept you alive through things it should never have had to. It doesn’t open on command, and it shouldn’t.
It opens when it has evidence.
You cannot fail at noticing your own experience. Whatever is coming up — including nothing, including guardedness, including doubt — is your system telling the truth about where it is.
And where your system actually is? That’s the only place healing has ever been able to begin.
If you have questions about EMDR, IFS, or somatic therapy, or you’re wondering whether this kind of work might be a fit for you, feel free to reach out. We’re happy to talk it through.
Looking for a trauma therapist in Washington, D.C. who understands that healing starts with safety and trust?
Take your first step toward a therapy experience where your honest response is always welcome.
(Washington, D.C., Virginia, and Maryland residents only)
About the author
Brendan O’Connell (he/him) is a Licensed Master Social Worker (LMSW) who provides therapy with a warm, authentic, and collaborative approach. He serves teens and adults in DC, MD and VA navigating relationship struggles, self-worth challenges, and the weight of past experiences. He specializes in supporting individuals dealing with anxiety, complex trauma, and depression.
Drawing on advanced training in Internal Family Systems (IFS), Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), and Somatic Experiencing (SE), he helps clients move from feeling stuck to experiencing meaningful relief, choice, and connection.
He holds a Master of Social Work from the University of Maryland, where he built a foundation in supporting clients through a relational and trauma-informed lens at an Oncology Center and an Outpatient Mental Health Clinic.
Brendan meets with clients in-person at our DC office and via Telehealth.
