Blogs | Therapea

I was feeling irritable, almost defensive in a moment that was supposed to feel easy. It was like a part of me is not used to having it feel this easy. Ironically, easy felt like the most difficult part. I have this side of me, almost the most powerful one, yet the most vulnerable. I call it spirituality. It protected me from everything that hurt me. The loneliness turned into solitude, the noise turned into divine guidance. It was one afternoon when I just woke up from a nap

"Have you tried talking to someone?" It's probably one of the most common responses people receive when they're going through a difficult time. Usually said with kindness, with genuine concern, with the hope that sharing the burden might make it feel a little lighter. And sometimes, it does. But sometimes, those four words feel far heavier than the struggle itself. As a therapist, I've often wondered why something that sounds so simple can feel so incredibly difficult. And ov

In the living room, when everyone had come to wish me; extended family, friends, cousins. I was working that night, but I tried to keep the sessions cleverly spread out or rather skewed in the day so that I could make the best of both worlds, having the evening to bring in my birthday and the next as I planned as an off. The little workaholic side of me regretted taking a day off, but a part of me was smirking around how smartly I planned my birthday week to get as many off d

A few years ago, if someone had told me that their brain never switched off, I don't think I would have fully understood what they meant. I would have empathized, of course, but I couldn't relate to the feeling of having a hundred thoughts competing for attention at the same time. I liked my quiet moments. I liked having time to myself. I could sit with a cup of coffee, listen to music, go for a walk or simply spend an evening doing nothing, and my mind would stay with me. I

Burnout, used so many times, always with the mindset that burnout = break, burnout = rest. I knew this. With the confidence of a rat. I had read about it. I had helped people through it. I knew the metaphors, the frameworks, the language. Almost heedless of how one actually experiences it in their body, their mind and soul. Until I found out I didn't. I remember my first group supervision session. All new faces. I shed a tear without any explanation. I asked my supervisor if

January 2024. Home cleared, bags packed, eyes full of tears and a heart so heavy. Saying goodbye to a place that shaped me, that I called home, felt like a loss. I told everyone I wasn't ready to leave London. What I didn't say, maybe didn't even know then, was that I wasn't ready to leave a version of myself behind. Moving back was difficult; culture shock, lifestyle change, a little bit of independence taken away…I remember isolating myself, didn't meet my friends for a f

With my chest constantly tugging and a sorrow ingrained in each cell, I didn't stop to think about what would happen. I was too busy worrying about doing it wrong. What if I missed something; an important detail of my life? How would she help me if I left something out? And then the thoughts I didn't say out loud: she's a therapist, her life must be so sorted. Her relationships. Her family. Herself. None of that was what I walked into. I was 22. Genuinely broken, lost, and cl

Session 18. Airpods in, tumbler beside me, notebook open, coffee close. I'd just walked around for a bit and stretched before sitting down. Same routine. But something felt different before this one. The sessions had gone quiet lately. Not uncomfortable quiet, but just steady. Nothing visible was shifting. She was showing up. We were talking. But nothing looked like progress from where I was sitting. No turning points. Just her coming in each week and talking about her life.

I wasn't depressed. I wasn't in crisis. I just wasn't myself anymore. This is why I started therapy and why you don't have to hit rock bottom. The quiet grapple of feeling weighed down and holding together lives in the mind forever. From never having to ask this question, I started therapy when I did hit rock bottom. Lonely, lost, and trying to make sense of what was happening to me. Who am I becoming? I didn't have any major traumatic experience, but the small incidents just