What Is My Therapist Writing Down? (Why Does It Make Me Paranoid?)

Therapists take notes for many reasons.

When they notice a theme or pattern, or how something you just said connects to something you’ve said before, they write it down. They take notes when there’s something they want to tell you, or ask you about, but now isn’t the right time.

And when something you say seems like it might be important, but they aren’t sure, they write it down so they can refer back to it if it starts to become a theme of your sessions.

But this probably doesn’t answer your real question. What you probably want to know is what your therapist’s notes mean.

You might not care so much about the little detail they just wrote down on a notepad, or what they put in your official progress notes (which we can assure you are pretty boring)—what you probably want to know is why they just wrote that note.

Why did they pick up the pen then? Why did they think that was important, especially if nothing you just said felt that important to you?

What’s going on in their head? Did they just make an important connection? Or are they just bored?

If only you could know what your therapist was thinking when they took those notes, you might learn something important about them—or about yourself. You might be able to tell if they’re on the right track, or if you are, or if therapy really is going anywhere after all.

There are a few ways we usually let other people know what we’re thinking: we tell them, we write it down (then share what we’ve written), or we let them know through body language.

You can communicate a lot to someone else through a knowing look or a simple gesture, like shrugging or rolling your eyes. You can hint at what you’re thinking with what you do with your hands. You can show someone how much you do (or don’t) like them by how closely you stand or sit next to them.

Therapists can be famously inscrutable, and they often take pains to limit how much they do any of these things. Their steady, unwavering gaze is unusual and hard to interpret. They often limit their body language to mirroring yours (or keeping pretty still). They don’t say much, and they almost never pass their notes to you after they finish writing them.

Your therapist won’t think it’s rude. Depending on how the moment is playing out, they may or may not answer you directly. Instead, they might respond with a question of their own.

But however they respond, they’ll be glad you asked. A lot of insights in therapy can come from exploring what you think your therapist is thinking—and learning what they actually are.

It’s natural in therapy to wonder, and even worry, about what your therapist thinks of you.

In fact, it’s an important part of what makes therapy work. The relationship you develop with your therapist gives you a chance to have a corrective emotional experience when you realize they don’t think the negative or limiting things about you that you thought they did.

A lot of therapists have answered the question of what they think of their clients. And most of them say something like this:

Still, all these things you’re wondering about are important. When you feel ready, it’s a great thing to bring up to your therapist. Ask them: “Are you judging me? Do you think I’m boring?”

Ask them anything that’s been on your mind. Yes, it’s vulnerable, and it’s hard, and you might not feel ready to do it right away. But when you do, it can lead to some amazing moments in therapy—maybe even some major breakthroughs.

The time you’re most likely to wonder what a therapist is scribbling down on their notepad is when they’re writing but not talking.

When they do this, they’re not trying to keep secrets from you. They just know sometimes it’s best to not tell you everything they’re thinking.

This isn’t because what they’re thinking is bad—it’s because they know you might need a different response from them right now.

Instead of interpreting, you might need holding, active listening, mirroring, or support—therapeutic terms for what a therapist does when they listen deeply to you and simply let you know they’re there (and that they care).

Sometimes, the most important thing your therapist can do in the moment is let you know your feelings are valid and that what you’re going through matters. Sometimes what you need most is for them to show you that they’re not indifferent to your struggle and that they feel empathy for you.

Sometimes, it’s even good for them to give you a little bit of limited self-disclosure to let you know they’ve been there, too.

A mistimed interpretation could harm the therapeutic relationship. It could shut you down instead of help you go deeper.

At such moments, a good therapist writes it down so they can bring it up later, when the moment is right.

In time, your therapist will share their insights with you. They might tell you directly, or they might see that you’re close to having the same insight, then get out of the way (or offer a gentle nudge) so you can.

Not all therapists take notes. It’s okay if yours doesn’t.

All therapists center your experience and place a high value on listening deeply to you. But different therapists have different ideas about how to accomplish that.

Some therapists think it’s more respectful to get the details right so they don’t have to ask you the same questions over and over. Therapists who think this way often choose to write.

On the other hand, some therapists think it’s more respectful to show you that you have their undivided attention. They know it can be distracting or worrisome when they pause to write something down, so they generally avoid doing it.

For example, psychodynamic therapists are famous for taking notes—often because they’re looking for recurrent symbolism in what you share with them.

On the other hand, humanistic therapists often make a point of not taking notes so that you can see and feel how fully you have their attention and how much they care.

Ultimately, there’s no right or wrong approach. So, if it matters to you whether your therapist takes notes, you can (and should) talk to them about it.

You can tell them it worries you that they don’t take notes. Or you can tell them you wish they wouldn’t take so many notes because it makes you feel disconnected from them.

If they can’t or won’t change their approach, you can look for a therapist whose approach is compatible with your needs. But most therapists can adjust the way they work with you.

You may also find that bringing up the subject leads to an illuminating discussion about therapy. Your therapist will likely want to explore what worries you and what you fear they might be writing. Finding out that it’s not what you feared can be healing and lead to a corrective emotional experience.

Therapists, no matter what method they use, know that note-taking can take away from the strength of their connection with you, so they only do it when they think it’s important.

So, yes, if your therapist wrote something down, it’s probably because they thought it was important.

Sometimes, that important thing isn’t symbolic or deep. Sometimes, it’s just something your therapist knows is important to know—like the names of significant people in your life or the dates when major events happened.

But sometimes that important thing is symbolic. Sometimes it is deep.

We give ourselves away with the words we use on a regular basis. But most of the time, it doesn’t matter, and no one notices, because we’re talking to people who don’t know how to connect the dots.

Therapists, on the other hand, do know how.

Yes, they notice when you bring everything back to your mom (or dad, or brother, or teacher). They notice when you hint at something traumatic that happened in your childhood.

They might not tell you what they’re noticing right away, but that’s probably because they’re not sure they’ve got it right yet.

Ultimately, your therapist doesn’t want to keep you in the dark. It’s their job to help you figure out the same things about yourself that they’re trying to figure out.

Trust that you’ll eventually explore the pattern they’re tracing—especially once they fill it in a little more and get a sense they’re on the right track.

In the transitional space of therapy, you can process the obsessions, fears, and hopes that usually run your life. You can start to get a little distance from them, question them a little more, and believe them a little less. You can start to understand where they come from—and that it’s not a place of truth.

Yes, many (but not all) painful thoughts come from childhood—from what parents, teachers, or peers said to you when you were little. You internalize so much when you’re a child, and those thoughts can have amazing sticking power. You can spend your whole life thinking something is true just because your parent said it once, when they weren’t thinking clearly.

Wherever they come from, those thoughts have a powerful impact on how you feel. They limit your self-image and make it all but impossible for you to see what other people see when they look at you. They restrict your emotional palette to a couple of drab colors.

So, if you’re worried about what your therapist is writing, tell them. Even better, tell them your specific fears.

As you explore them, you may realize the same fears are always there, no matter who you’re talking to—that what you worry your therapist is thinking about you is what you always worry others are thinking about you.

A good therapist will hold up a mirror so you can see how this reflects what you think and feel about yourself, not what others do. They will delight in letting you know that no, they don’t think that about you, and probably very few people do. This is one of many ways therapy can set you free from the thoughts that once bound you.

It can seem so interesting—even a little disturbing—when your therapist picks up a pen during your session. Why was that important?

It may be a mystery for a little while, but you can trust that your therapist will ultimately share their insights with you—or help you realize them for yourself.

You can ask them what they just wrote down if you want. They may simply tell you, or they might explore why you want to know. If they hold back, it’s not to mess with you. Either they think it’s more important to explore what you think they might have written or they know that now is not the right time to tell you.

Whatever they wrote, and why, it probably isn’t what you thought it was. It certainly isn’t the same hurtful, limiting things other people have told you they think about you (or that you worry they think).

It isn’t that you’re “crazy” or hopeless, boring or “too much.” Your therapist is probably thinking you’re an interesting, admirable person who’s doing difficult work in therapy. They probably have a lot of empathy, care, and respect for you.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your therapist’s job—or interest—to cultivate opinions about you, even good ones. It’s their job to clear away everything that keeps you from seeing yourself clearly, including all the unfounded thoughts and opinions you have about yourself.

Therapy gives you a chance at freedom. By understanding what your fears mean and where they come from, you can start to see that they are not the truth. You can start to see that you are so much more than you’ve ever given yourself credit for being—and that so much more is possible for you.