As clinical psychologists, we are trained to expect narratives.
Clients come to therapy to tell their stories—about their pain, their repetitions, their childhoods, their relationships, their dreams. Therapy often unfolds through these narratives. Meaning is built through words.
But what happens when the narrative begins to fade?
At a certain point in therapy, some clients enter the session and say:
“I don’t really have much to talk about this week.”
For many early-career therapists, this sentence can trigger subtle anxiety.
Is this resistance? Avoidance? Emotional shutdown?
Yet sometimes, this quiet moment marks one of the healthiest phases of the therapeutic process.
The Psychology Of The Need To Narrate
The human mind seeks to narrate what it cannot yet integrate.
Experiences that are emotionally overwhelming, traumatic, or confusing tend to remain psychologically “unfinished.” Telling one’s story is a way to organize experience, symbolize emotion, and make it mentally digestible.
This is why, in the early and middle phases of therapy, narratives are often intense and expansive. Clients bring not only what happened, but also what could not be said at the time—unexpressed anger, unresolved grief, unmet needs.
But healing is not simply about being able to say more.
Sometimes, healing shows itself in the diminishing need to speak.
Silence Is Not Always Resistance
In clinical practice, silence is often interpreted through a pathological lens. It is quickly associated with avoidance, defense, or dissociation. While this can certainly be true, not all silence emerges from pathology.
Some silences reflect integration.
At this stage, the client no longer experiences every internal event as a crisis that needs immediate processing. Emotions arise and pass. Thoughts are noticed without being clung to. Inner experiences can be regulated without needing to be externalized in the therapy room.
The client has little to narrate because:
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experiences no longer feel threatening
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emotional regulation has strengthened
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the internal dialogue has become more compassionate
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meaning-making has largely been completed
This is not repression; it is internalization.
The Therapist’s Question: “What Am I Supposed To Do Now?”
This phase can be just as challenging for the therapist as it is transformative for the client.
Therapists are trained to work through material—stories, conflicts, themes. When the story quiets down, it may feel as though the work itself is disappearing.
Yet this is often the moment when therapy shifts from doing to being.
Sessions become less dramatic but more grounded. The therapist’s role subtly changes:
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noticing micro-shifts in affect
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tolerating silence without rushing to fill it
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staying present without needing to intervene
It is also a moment when the therapist confronts their own need to be useful, productive, or actively healing. The therapeutic relationship itself becomes the therapeutic agent.
What This Means For The Client
For the client, this phase is often lived quietly and without grand insight. There may be no clear sense of “I am healed now.” Life simply feels less loud.
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the inner critic softens
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emotions feel more manageable
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relationships involve less reactivity
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the sense of self feels more coherent
Most importantly, the client no longer needs therapy as an external regulator. What once happened in the therapy room has been internalized.
The Clinical Value Of Silence
A final and important note: not all silence is healthy. Avoidance, emotional numbing, and dissociation must always be carefully assessed.
But when we attune not to the quantity of speech but to the quality of internal vitality, we begin to recognize that some silences represent one of therapy’s most meaningful outcomes.
Healing is not always loud.
Sometimes the client stops telling their story—because they are finally able to carry it.