Starting My Journey with CBT: Reclaiming Peace from Anxiety and Lipedema
- Helene
- Oct 24, 2025
- 3 min read
Today I attended my first group session for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), a step I’ve been both nervous and hopeful about. It’s part of my journey to better understand and manage anxiety—something that’s been quietly shaping my life for years.
How it started? A frank conversation with my family doctor. I told him how I was feeling, what was going on in my head and what I was feeling. We tried some medication and it just didn't work. That is when he decided to refer me to CAMH - Centre for Addiction and Mental Health. If you are in Toronto, you probably heard of CAMH. They are a great foundation that help people that struggle like I do.
The process was lengthy but so worth it. They don't just throw you into a pile and leave you to fend for yourself. Medical professionals meet with you to discuss what is going on in your head, in your heart and physically (for anyone who has ever had a panic attack, you know what I am talking about). My journey was 5 doctors that I chatted with - anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours. All this led me to be assigned to a group session to help deal with Anxiety.
What is Anxiety?
Anxiety isn’t just feeling stressed or worried. It’s a persistent sense of unease, fear, or dread that can affect how we think, feel, and function day to day. For many of us living with Lipedema, anxiety is deeply intertwined with years of emotional pain—being misunderstood, misdiagnosed, and unfairly labeled as lazy or unmotivated simply because of how our bodies look and respond. For me, anxiety has been around for years - I just try my best to hide it really well. Unless I have told you, most of you would not think I go through panic attacks, heart palpitations or crying fits.
What is CBT?
CBT is a type of therapy that helps us recognize and reframe negative thought patterns. It’s not about ignoring our feelings—it’s about understanding them, challenging the stories we’ve been told (and tell ourselves), and learning healthier ways to cope. In group therapy, we share experiences, learn tools, and support each other in breaking free from the mental loops that keep us stuck.
Group Sessions - How did it go?
I missed the first week so I jumped right into week 2 of a 12 week program. I did not know what to expect. I was quite nervous actually. How do you talk about anxiety with a bunch of strangers? How do you let them into your deepest darkest thoughts? Will they laugh at me if I cry? Queue in the anxiety - the wheel spinning, the heart palpitations, the worry. The point of no return.
The sessions are two hours long and happen once a week. We spend the first hour going over the homework from the previous session—sharing our thoughts, experiences, and reflections. I was nervous at first, unsure of what it would feel like to speak out loud in front of others. But something beautiful happened.
No one laughed. No one judged. People nodded, smiled, and even voiced their agreement with me. I felt heard. I felt understood. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.
After a short break, we moved into the second half of the session, which focused on learning. We explored the theory behind anxiety and how CBT—Cognitive Behavioral Therapy—can help us recognize and reframe the thoughts that fuel it. We also got homework, which I actually really appreciate. It gives me something to work on between sessions, something to focus on.
This week’s challenge is to notice anxiety as soon as it starts. Maybe one day I’ll be able to stop a panic attack before it happens. But for now, I’m learning to catch it early and find ways to calm myself. It’s a process, and I’m here for it.
Undoing the Programming
Living with Lipedema often means enduring years of judgment—from doctors, peers, even ourselves. We’ve been told we’re not trying hard enough, that our pain is imagined, that our bodies are a problem to be fixed. CBT is helping me unlearn those messages. It’s showing me that healing isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, mental, and deeply personal.
This is just the beginning, and I’m sharing it in case someone else out there feels alone in their struggle. You’re not. And there is help, hope, and healing.


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