Why Do I Feel Worse After Therapy? (Complex Trauma, EMDR, and Dissociation in Session)

Episode 153

 

Written by Sarah Herstich, LCSW, a Certified EMDR Therapist, EMDRIA-Approved Consultant, and Somatic Experiencing Practitioner. Sarah hosts The Complex Trauma Podcast and owns Reclaim Therapy, a trauma-focused group practice in Horsham, PA.

Feeling worse after trauma therapy can be a normal part of the process, especially with complex trauma, where the therapy relationship itself can be activating and painful memories are tightly tangled together. What matters most is whether you can still mostly function, whether things settle over time, and whether sessions are getting easier or harder. Feeling flooded for days, or disappearing during sessions, is usually information that the pacing needs to change. It doesn't mean you're bad at therapy.

When I was getting ready for this week's episode, I spent some time reading what people say about therapy on Reddit and in trauma forums. One person called it a trauma therapy hangover. Another said every session leaves them feeling like they have the flu for a couple of days. Someone described therapy as throwing everything up in the air and then spending the rest of the week figuring out where it all lands. And over and over, in so many different words, people wrote some version of the same thing: I think something is wrong with me.

This post grew out of two listener questions. One came from someone in EMDR for complex trauma who leaves sessions dysregulated for days. She looks calm on the outside, but she's clenching her jaw, biting her nails, and getting triggered by everything. She wanted to know what an EMDR session for complex trauma should actually look like, and she said something I keep thinking about: "I can't help but feel like something is missing." The second listener is dissociating a lot in sessions and wants to know how to make it stop.

If either of those sounds like you, I want you to know that you're in good company, and that there are real reasons this happens.

Key Takeaways

  • Some stirring up after trauma therapy is expected. Being flooded for days on end is a sign the pacing may need to change.

  • With complex trauma, the therapy relationship itself can be activating, and looking fine in session is often a survival strategy you learned a long time ago.

  • EMDR for complex trauma usually works best with more preparation, smaller targets, and smaller pieces of a memory at a time.

  • Dissociating in session is protective, and it's often a sign that things got to be too much too fast.

  • Telling your therapist what's really happening is part of the healing work, especially if you learned early that needing things made life harder.

Is it normal to feel worse after trauma therapy?

Sometimes, yes. Trauma therapy asks you to get close to experiences your system has worked very hard to keep at a distance, so it makes sense that it can stir things up. The important distinction is between being stirred up and being flooded.

Your window of tolerance is the zone where your nervous system can feel things and still stay online. You can be sad, activated, or uncomfortable and still think clearly, still feel your body, and still make your kid a snack. When therapy pushes you outside that window, you can tip into hyperarousal (panic, irritability, poor sleep, feeling on edge) or hypoarousal (numbness, fog, shutting down, feeling far away from your own life).

Stirred up Flooded
You feel tired or tender after a session. You feel panicky, on edge, or completely numb.
You might have more dreams or feel more emotional. You can't sleep, focus, or get through your day.
You can still mostly function. Functioning at work or at home feels out of reach.
Things gradually settle over the next few days. Things stay the same or get worse from session to session.

This is a general guide for understanding your experience. It isn't a way to assess yourself or your therapy.

How long it lasts isn't the best marker on its own. In one analysis of trauma-focused therapies, somewhere between about 15 and 30 percent of people had a real spike in symptoms partway through treatment. For most of them, symptoms came back down in about a week and a half, and most still improved meaningfully by the end (Larsen et al., 2016). A larger review found that, on average, people don't get worse in the middle of trauma-focused therapy (Purnell et al., 2024). I want to be honest about the limits here, though. Averages can hide the people who really struggled, and most of this research looks at PTSD rather than complex PTSD.

Why does therapy feel harder when you have complex trauma?

A car accident usually has a before and an after. Complex trauma tends to happen over and over, often for years, and so often it happens inside relationships with people who were supposed to keep you safe. Sometimes it happens with people who were there physically but weren't available to you emotionally.

Now think about what therapy is. It's a relationship with a person who is paying very close attention to you, asking how you feel, and noticing your face. For a lot of people with complex trauma, that alone can stir things up before you ever touch a memory. Being seen can feel wonderful and deeply unsafe at the same time.

Then there's the habit of looking fine. If you grew up as the easy kid, the responsible one, or the one nobody had to worry about, you probably learned early that having needs made things harder for everyone. Your nervous system figured out that calm on the outside kept you safe, so of course you bring that skill into the therapy room. It's the same reason so many people tell their therapist the week was fine when it really wasn't. I've been that client, too.

Finally, there's the sheer volume of what you're carrying. Thomas Zimmerman, author of EMDR With Complex Trauma, describes this with a metaphor I love. In EMDR and in a lot of trauma therapy, healing happens when a stuck memory links up with helpful things you already know now, like the fact that kids aren't responsible for what adults do to them. People who had fairly secure childhoods tend to have a boat the size of a cruise ship, with plenty of that helpful information on board. People with complex trauma often have something closer to a canoe, and an ocean full of whales. You can't land a whale in a canoe.

Why does it hit days after a session instead of in the room?

A few different things can be going on. Sometimes processing simply keeps going after you leave, because your brain doesn't stop working on something the moment a session ends. That can look like extra dreams, memories floating up, or feeling raw for a while, and it's expected.

Other times, a session pushes you too far outside your window. When that happens, the parts of you that hold the helpful information (the grown-up parts, the parts that know it wasn't your fault) go a little offline. The painful material gets stirred up but has a much harder time connecting to anything helpful, so it gets opened without getting resolved.

Complex trauma memories are also tangled together. If one memory pulls in five or ten others during a session, you go home with a whole drawer open instead of one thing. It makes sense that your body is still buzzing on Thursday.

What does EMDR for complex trauma look like?

EMDR stands for eye movement desensitization and reprocessing. The standard approach works beautifully for a lot of people, and preparation, closure, and checking in at the next session are already built into it. With complex trauma, I tend to spend a lot more time in those pieces and go a lot slower. This is how I work, and there are many skilled EMDR therapists who do things differently and do them well. Much of how I think about these adjustments has been shaped by Thomas Zimmerman's work.

Getting ready before processing

Before we touch a memory, I want to find things that help your body settle. I'm looking for resources you can actually feel, ones that work in session and that you've tried at home and noticed help, even a little. I won't take you anywhere in a car without brakes. I also want to get to know your parts, including the protective ones, the young ones, and the one that rolls its eyes at breathing exercises. Before we work on anything, I'll usually ask whether it feels okay to all of you today. Preparation shouldn't feel like a test you keep failing, though. The goal is to build what you need so you can start, and then actually start.

Starting with smaller memories

With complex trauma, I usually don't start with the earliest or worst memory. We catch smaller fish first. Each smaller memory that resolves puts more helpful information on board, so the boat gets bigger and the larger memories eventually have somewhere to land. Starting small isn't actually the slow road, because when one memory resolves, others with a similar shape can often resolve along with it.

Before working on a childhood memory, I'll often ask how much the most grown-up part of you, the part that pays the bills and puts gas in the car, actually feels that a child isn't responsible for what an adult did. Many people can say the right answer out loud while their body still insists it was their fault. That self-blame usually isn't random. For a lot of kids, believing it was their fault was protective, because if it was my fault, maybe I could fix it. That belief kept a sense of control and kept them attached to people they needed. If none of you believes it wasn't your fault yet, that's important information, and it tells us a part of you deserves attention before we go charging in.

Processing in smaller pieces

Instead of starting at the worst moment of a memory, I'll often have you come at it gently, a small piece at a time. The core ingredient in EMDR is noticing, and it's very hard to notice anything when you're on the edge of panic. Many people also believe they have to keep the memory playing the whole time while noticing their body. With complex trauma, I'll often tell you that you don't need to keep pulling the memory back up. Once a piece has been activated, just notice what's happening in your body, and when it settles, we go back for the next piece. Zimmerman compares the alternative to standing in an open barn door while every animal rushes out at once, so we put a gate on the door.

I also watch for the fact that people tend to do EMDR the way they do life. If your survival strategy was figuring everything out, you may try to figure it out mid-session. If it was pushing through, you may push. If you were the easy kid, you'll probably look fine in my office too.

Closing a session

Infographic listing 4 signs trauma therapy is working even when it feels hard, like settling faster and still functioning.

To answer our listener's question about integration directly, yes, I protect time at the end of sessions, and the body is part of the work from start to finish. The bigger lever, though, is what happens in the middle. If you're completely flooded with ten minutes left, ten minutes of grounding can only do so much. When the pacing is right earlier on, the ending has something to stand on. With complex trauma, many sessions end with a memory still partly open, and that's common rather than a sign of failure.

As we close, I help people set aside whatever is still open using a container. A container is a way of setting something aside on purpose until you're in a better place to work with it. Some people imagine a box, a safe, or a jar with a strong lid, and some write a word on a slip of paper and put it in a real box. What goes in isn't gone. You're choosing not to carry it around all week, and you have a plan to come back to it.

Why do I dissociate in therapy?

Dissociation is protection. At some point, when you couldn't leave a situation with your body, part of you figured out how to leave with your mind. That was a brilliant adaptation, even if it has costs now. When dissociation happens in the middle of a session, it's often a sign that things got to be too much too fast and your system pulled the emergency brake.

"I dissociated in session" can also mean several different things, and each one needs something a little different.

  • Going numb, foggy, or shutting down. This is your system dropping into a low, protective state. Sometimes it follows getting too activated, and for many people with complex trauma it's where the system lives by default. Going slower and gently bringing your body back online tends to help more than pushing deeper.

  • Getting pulled so far into a memory that you leave the room. This is closer to a flashback, and it usually means the memory came in too big or too fast. Grounding and working in smaller pieces help.

  • Getting stuck in your head trying to figure it all out. This can look like being checked out too. Gently coming back to what your body is doing right now helps, because there's nothing to figure out today.

  • A different part of you showing up. That calls for slowing down, getting curious about the part, and making sure all of you is on board with the work.

Dissociating in a moment when things get to be too much is different from dissociation as an ongoing pattern woven through how your system is organized. If you're losing time, dissociating a lot outside of sessions, or feeling like different parts of you take over, talk with your therapist about it. When a dissociative disorder is present, EMDR needs to be adapted, and the type and severity of dissociation need to be carefully assessed first (Steele & Mosquera, 2024). I go much deeper into this in my post on parts vs alters.

What can I do when I start to dissociate in session?

The goal is to turn the dial down rather than to force yourself to stay present. These are ideas to try and talk through with your therapist.

  • Learn your early warning signs, like fog rolling in, sound getting far away, staring at one spot, or feeling floaty or heavy.

  • Agree on a signal ahead of time, like raising a hand or saying one word, so you don't need full sentences when your words are going offline.

  • Keep your eyes open and orient by looking around the room and naming a few things you see.

  • Feel your feet press into the floor, or hold something with texture, like a smooth stone, a soft blanket, or a warm mug.

  • Say it out loud, even if it's just "I'm going." That gives your therapist what they need to slow things down.

  • Ask to work on something smaller. Choosing where to start is part of the work.

How do I cope between sessions when I'm flooded?

Planning the 24 hours after a session can make a big difference. If you can, avoid scheduling therapy right before a big meeting or the school pickup line, and give yourself a few minutes in the car before you drive home. Have something easy to eat and something cozy waiting for you, and think of one person you can text who doesn't need the whole story.

It also helps to lower your demands on purpose on therapy days. Steady, repetitive movement like walking or rocking can help your nervous system settle, and so can sitting next to someone who feels safe. Use your container, and remember that setting something aside is a choice rather than avoidance. Try to notice what's happening in your body without digging back into the memory at 11 p.m., and jot down short notes to bring to your next session.

If things are getting harder instead of slowly settling, or you're struggling to function, reach out to your therapist before your next session. If you're having thoughts of hurting yourself or not wanting to be here, please reach out for support right away. In the U.S., you can call or text 988 at any time.

How do I know if therapy is working or hurting me?

There's no perfect checklist, but a few patterns are worth paying attention to.

Signs it's probably working, even when it's hard: over time you settle a little faster after sessions, the skills you've practiced help at least somewhat, you can still mostly function, and you feel like you could tell your therapist the truth about how it's going.

Signs it's time to talk about pacing: it's getting harder from session to session, you leave most sessions flooded, you're struggling to function at work or at home, you notice new urges to hurt yourself, or you bring it up and it gets brushed off.

You're also allowed to say "not today." Before processing anything, it's okay to ask yourself whether you have the capacity to feel a little more raw today. If you walked in on the edge of panic or you're running on four hours of sleep, it's completely okay to use the session for something else. If you were the easy kid who shows up and performs no matter what, I know that can feel almost impossible. It's still allowed.

What should I say to my therapist?

Here are a few things you can say word for word if it helps.

  • "After last session, I was activated for about four days, and I didn't tell you."

  • "I look calm in here, but I'm usually a lot more stirred up than I seem."

  • "I notice I'm gone for part of the processing. Can we figure out a signal?"

  • "Can we try smaller pieces, or start somewhere that feels more manageable?"

  • "I'd like more time at the end to come back into my body before I leave."

  • "I don't think I have it in me to process today. Can we use this session differently?"

Good therapists want to know this, and when a client tells me something like this, I feel grateful. For a lot of people with complex trauma, saying these sentences is practicing the exact thing you learned not to do, which is letting someone know you need something and seeing what happens. If you've talked about it, given it time, and things keep getting harder without any shift, it's okay to ask about a consultation or a second opinion. That's a normal part of care.

And if your therapist works differently than I've described here, that doesn't mean they're doing it wrong. We all have different styles, and the relationship you have with your therapist matters most.


Frequently Asked Questions

Is it normal to feel worse after EMDR?

Feeling tired, tender, or more emotional after EMDR is common, and processing can continue for a few days after a session. Feeling flooded most of the time, or getting worse from session to session, is a sign to talk with your therapist about pacing.

How long does it take to feel better after a trauma therapy session?

It varies from person to person and session to session. Rather than focusing on a number of days, notice whether you can still mostly function, whether it's settling over time, and whether it's getting easier or harder across sessions.

Can you do EMDR if you dissociate?

Many people who dissociate do meaningful EMDR work, though it often needs to be paced differently. If dissociation is frequent or you may have a dissociative disorder, your therapist should assess that carefully and adapt the approach.

Why do I dissociate during therapy?

Dissociation is a protective response that often shows up when things become too much too fast. It can also look like shutting down, getting pulled into a memory, getting lost in your thoughts, or a different part of you showing up.

What is a container in EMDR?

A container is a resource for setting difficult material aside on purpose until you're ready to work with it again. People often imagine a box, a safe, or a jar, and it's best practiced first with something neutral, like a grocery list.

Should I tell my therapist if therapy is making me feel worse?

Yes. That information helps your therapist adjust the pace, and good therapists want to hear it. Tellin



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