Firsthand Account of a Person Who Has and Continues to Undergo Psychotherapy Sessions

I got a notification on LinkedIn on June 5th for an article I was tagged in: “To Divya Parashar, with love on her birthday.”

Rashi*, a fellow traveler on this journey of life had written about her experiences undergoing psychotherapy with me. She chooses to not remain anonymous and wants people to bring discussions around mental health out in the open. After all, don’t we want to do our bit in de-stigmatizing mental health?

I read the narrative, I smiled, I cried, I laughed, I felt her pain, and through it all, I appreciated the courage and conviction she had in her to tread on fearlessly into the unknown; to shine on through the other side. I realized, she had dedicated this to celebrate my birthday, but I actually ended up celebrating her and the small battles she was winning everyday.

I love how she has empathized and has given sage advice to those who may be sitting on the fence about considering therapy, or those who may be wondering why they came to see me because I make them gently embrace what they have been fearing, to release obstacles and bottlenecks and to not to swerve around them, because they will come back and agonize. How can you be your best version if you don’t face all that comes your way?

The importance of the therapeutic relationship, the needed tools of empathy, compassion, and holding the person through whatever they experience even if it is anger towards the therapist, establishing trust, having goals, pathways & personal agency, and the journey of inner transformation rather than image management have been well brought out.

Thank you, Rashi, I celebrate you, and the many people who have engaged in this process on their quest for self-discovery today and everyday. And for those, who are still giving me a chance, thank you :)

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By Rashi Bhargava

My first encounter with my therapist was hilarious and embarrassing, an encounter worth forgetting. It took me 40 minutes into my first therapy session to realize I was talking to a clinical psychologist. I am not mentally unstable but probably absent minded. 😉 

When my trainer asked me to meet Dr. Divya Parashar I thought he was recommending me to meet a physiotherapist for my back pain which was hampering my runners training and was derailing my training schedule.

When it dawned on me that she was a psychologist I was like okay maybe my life needed this. I was struggling with processing my mom’s death. Increasingly, issues with my Dad were not easy to navigate. Work challenges were making me miserable. With so much weighing on my mind I decided to try this new way of getting some way out of my messed up life. Her pleasing nature, positive vibes gave me confidence to seek help.

Subsequent two sessions were okay, with me sharing my life journey in bits and pieces, my pain areas and what I like to achieve out of my therapy sessions. Divya shared a lot of forms, questionnaires to get to know me better. Initially I was overwhelmed but she was very understanding and approachable; who knew that her questionnaires may deter anyone, and wanted me to fill in as and when I felt like and not feel pressurized. She was methodical and her follow up emails post sessions were helpful fort me also to track my therapy progress.

The first three sessions fooled me into thinking that the therapist has some magic wand and my current issues of back pain, anxiety and insomnia will be cured magically. After all this was my first experience and I had nothing to refer and fall upon. Mental well being is still a taboo subject and a lot of stigma is attached. 

How hard Do you think therapy can Be? Ask me 😉

During the subsequent sessions post lockdown when my interactions increased, with my tele-sessions with Divya I got the real taste of Good Therapy. 

My emotional baggage of years started tumbling out of the door I had closed ages ago. When therapy is TOUGH, it's real. It’s tough because you are rewiring your brain to tolerate uncertainty, anxiety, yucky feelings, and intrusive disturbing thoughts. I read somewhere If therapy was fun, everyone would get therapized. Unfortunately, good therapy sometimes requires digging deep into your subconscious and psyche — and revealing what may be some painful memories and feelings stored there. 

  • Sessions brought back painful memories. My mom had similar issues. She did not have the luxury of the support of a psychologist/counselor. I still feel bad that she did not die due to some grave illness, but she died slowly because of her mental health. Yes, in the end swine flu took her away and she died of multi organ failure. But I knew her mental health took us away 3 years back. The more I interact with Divya the more the pain that stemmed from my Mom's own challenges and as her family we could not support her. Not that I got any support. I landed up with Divya with some divine intervention ;) 

  • Often, we land up for therapies thinking the therapist will perform some magic and things will get alright akin to taking pain pills. It’s a myth that therapy is magic. Therapy is a process, a relationship and conversation. Or shall I say conversation with paid friend :) (Will take up this paid friend part in a separate blog)

Let me walk through a session of mine….

So, it starts a few hours before the actual session begins. The level of my productivity goes down exponentially with every hour that therapy time comes closer. I get nervous. By the time I am sitting and waiting for my therapist to call I'm already a mess. I'm nervous because I know myself. I'm motivated to continue with the session yet the anticipation of pain and turmoil will make me more nervous.

Session begins. Okay, so now the phone rings with my escape route fully blocked. I say hello and my therapist greets me and her first question inevitably is: “How's it going so far today?” What made therapy harder for me is that I grew to trust her, her presence calmed me and assured me that everything is in control and can be worked upon. So, we work. We talk. I cry. I panic. She holds safe space for me and gives me a sense of security.

After an hour, I am mostly with a tear-streaked face, put my phone down completely exhausted. Exhausted and feeling rather emotionally ‘bruised'. Therapy is hard because you practice what you would normally avoid. You tell things you wouldn’t share with someone else. You not only show how you feel but you feel how you feel. You work through things that have been troubling you for years. You are gently pushed and shoved and encouraged to change your mind about some of your core beliefs. You are working to change your inner self and polish it.

  • For years we have an image for ourselves and when somebody comes and shows the mirror, acceptance is painful. My therapist has been nudging me to become my best version, make changes in my life, behavior and how I interact with the world around me.

  • Therapy is helping me shift through emotional baggage I had been carrying for years and stressing out each day of my life under its weight. It involves being vulnerable diving into painful feelings and thoughts. We humans most of the time are quick in making excuses and slow in recognizing patterns in behavior. I was no different. 

  • Transitions are painful for everyone and I am no different. Transformation from a Caterpillar to butterfly...Is it easy? No :) It's rather gruesome. Therapy leads us to this journey from a caterpillar to Butterfly..

Till date I have undergone Nine therapy sessions and have made my therapist life miserable for the 10th session. Based on my sessions I like to share my learnings:

  1. No matter how eager you are to change your ways, there will come a point in therapy when you think, “This sucks and I can’t take it anymore. Somebody rightly described Therapy as the tenth layer of hell. Remind yourself why you want to do this hard work. In my case the motivation of continuing with my painful therapy sessions was that these sessions were making me a better version of self.

  2. Don’t quit. Yes, it’s tempting. If you quit, you don’t have to spend another second thinking about your issues. There's rhyme and reason to therapy: helping you understand yourself, and finding ways to cope (or even overcome!) your anxiety or other mental health issues, or just keeping you on track with your goals.

  3. Therapy can be boring. You’ve been talking about the same topics for weeks now. In my case, the last few sessions have been focused on my work challenges. It’s tough. It can even be a little dull. But although your chats may feel repetitive, you’re circling around something important. If I am talking about the same thing, that indicates something unresolved that needs resolving. More time will help sort this out.

  4. To overcome painful emotions, one has to feel them. In therapy, you experience painful emotions.But experiencing these painful emotions alongside a trained professional will make your life better in the long run. For example, I had issues processing my Mom’s death. I had not allowed myself to cry. Over time, my brain started processing it differently which led to problems like sleep issues, nightmare. The only way to rewire my brain and address the problem was to process that with the assistance of a mental health professional. My fourth session was all about my Mom’s death. And for the entire 60 minutes of my session I was crying.

  5. Therapy process is painful. It’s no fun reliving your worst, most painful memories — sometimes more than once. But the benefits are enormous. So, sticking with therapy, even when it hurts is the key. It gets better, trust me.

  6. Some of many benefits of attending therapy sessions regularly. I have a built-in place to unload my worries every week. I have learned how to handle new challenges with grace and grit. And the mental health concerns I wanted to be addressed like sleep, anxiety will improve over time too.

How do I know it’s working?

  • There is no better feeling than a sense of accomplishment.

  • My first 8-hour sleep after ages. 

  • Unpacking all the junk built inside my brain over the years.

  • A lightened mental burden, better tools for handling new challenges, and an increased sense of self-worth.

  • My friends noticed the changes and some of them remarked that I sound happy, look sharp and focused.

  • I am mindful.

  • I make efforts to take out time for self-care.

  • My conversations with clients are more engaging and deeper

Therapy is the most fantastic, amazing path. Therapy is a fantastic path when you tread with a promise to self. I'm so glad I'm walking it. All Thanks to my therapist who is a wonderful person, a brilliant professional and caring human being. I’m grateful to her, for walking with me and making my journey easy and confident.

Note: Consent has been taken from Rashi to share her post here, and to disclose her name, despite my wanting to protect her identity. She has shared this post publicly, and doesn’t like hiding behind facades anymore. I had to honor her request.


Tear Down the Wall!

She looked forlornly outside the tiny window of her apartment, wondering when she would walk out in the open once the lockdown got over. Going to school every day and teaching the kids was a respite from the abusive marriage she was in.

She found her happiness in the smiles that would light up the childrens’ faces as she walked into the classroom. She was loved; if not at home, at least outside of it. The home was a cage even before the lockdown deemed it one for so many people like her.

“Sunita,” bellowed her husband. “Kitni baar kaha hai chai mein doodh kam daala kar. Behri hai, ya dimaag nahin hai?” (How many times have I told you to put less milk in the tea? Are you deaf, or do you have no brains?)

I will leave out the swear words that followed that tirade. This followed a routine everyday, from hitting below the belt about how she was parenting their daughter, to how she managed the house, to how incompetent she was as a woman. The bruises on her arms and chest bore mute testimony to the one time she decided to speak up, only to keep her silence for the sake of her daughter. If only…

He sat in the corner of his room, with his head in his hands, sweat trickled down his forehead, his breath raspy and short. He got up and paced the room, his heart pounding even more, muttering under his breath, restless, anxious, “Let me out, please let me out. I’m going to die.” His mom’s reassuring words didn’t reach him as his panic attacks became more frequent with each passing day.

“Calm down, watch a movie, distract yourself, go out in the drawing room. The whole apartment is yours.”
“No, let me out. Let me out of these closed spaces.”

Welcome to the world of claustrophobia: An intense fear of closed, confined spaces in which the fear of having no escape and being “boxed” in, leads to panic attacks.

His mother had appealed to their Residents Welfare Association to allow him to step outside for a walk within the confines of the gated community, with all the precautions (a mask, physical distancing, leaving shoes outside the house, and washing his hands as soon as he got in, or whatever else they would ask of them). Her request was denied with the directive, “If we do this for one person, then everyone else will demand it.”

He took a blade and pressed it on his forearm till it bled a bit and he heaved a sigh. Something brought relief at least. Scars of past self-harm looked on. If only…

Eighty two year old “Aunty” washed the last dish and wiped her forehead. She was taking care of her husband who had hemiplegia due to a stroke. And she was taking care of the house, including the cooking, and cleaning because their part time maid wasn’t being allowed through the gates. Her back and arthritic hands were in constant pain. If only…

I have been putting in long hours at work, conducting webinars, counseling people and families as the lockdown wreaks havoc on their mental health and relationships. Some have reached out for therapy because they finally have the time to take care of themselves. Jopu, my old dog and the king of the house, passed away which came as a double whammy. Compassion fatigue was looming large. Running, my usual stress buster, was on hold since the lockdown, and I had made my peace with workouts at home. I did miss it though. On one of the days when my threshold was low, I caught myself grieving and I needed to bounce back, which I did, but then a thought crept up: If only…

If only this caged existence ended, and we had the freedom to live, keeping in mind the precautions that are needed to mitigate the transmission of the coronavirus. I am not a hedonist, wanting to do things for pleasure, but to exert my free will conscientiously, responsibly, unselfishly, prudently.  

I am not suggesting throwing caution to the wind, but we have to strike a balance towards preserving our human capital which is struggling in many ways due to the severe lockdown. Domestic violence, anxiety, & depression seem to be rising as people face financial hardships, job losses, an uncertain future, and a long, winding road ahead with no guideposts.

People have held on. Patiently. Compliance with the lockdown was high because we felt we were on the right path to flatten the curve. We believed what was told to us. We also complied with lauding our “#CovidWarriors,” the medical and paramedical staff by banging thaalis, ringing  bells, blowing conches, lighting candles, showering petals nationally.

But we also showed our true colors: By shunning them from entering their own homes because we feared acquiring the infection from them since they were high risk. We didn’t raise our voices along with the doctors and nurses in their fight  for Personal Protective Equipment (PPEs) who clearly said they want none of the fanfare but to get home safe to their families. To live to see another day for their loved ones. They marched on relentlessly, alone, in their quest to save lives.

We made the most of the lockdown. Followed our passions, took a break, learnt something new, spent time reconnecting with old friends, sought forgiveness, granted forgiveness, patched up, broke up. We followed our hearts. The same hearts bled for the migrant workers and we did our bit for them. Compassion was also seen and experienced.

Human nature is so fickle, I realized. We give, we take, we withhold. We scream, we stay silent. We express gratitude in the most ungrateful ways at times.

I digress, because I am expressing my angst about the human suffering I am seeing up close lately. And no, this is not the vicarious trauma creeping up. I am writing this as cogently and coherently as I have known myself to be as a mental health professional.

Something needs to be done about the anguish we are experiencing. And being in a severe, restrictive lockdown as a blanket rule isn’t helping us anymore. The impact on mental health is likely to be larger than anything we have seen before. We haven’t even touched the tip of the iceberg.

The Covid-19 positive cases are constantly rising and we need to live with it, around us, in our minds, in our physical surroundings. It doesn’t mean that we give up and go back to our “old ways” and congregate in large numbers, gather in crowded, public places, and whatever else exponentially puts us at risk for community transmission. It means we have to live with the virus and we need to take collective responsibility for us to step out as responsible citizens, while taking necessary action to safeguard ourselves, our loved ones, and our community.

Of course, if it was that easy, why would I be writing about it? Because the human variables of cognition, emotion, and behavior are critically important in managing and preventing the spread of a pandemic. Civic responsibility, physical distancing, hygiene protocols, compliance with the authorities all constitute an act of volition and we exert our free will.

What governs our will is what I want to talk about. When a threat to their safety arises, people vary widely in their reactions. Some use logic, some get overwhelmed with the emotional distress such as intense anxiety or fear, and some may take on an attitude of indifference and fatalism. Where do we congregate so that we balance emotions with logic? Where a moderate level of concern can help us cope better and more logically with health threats, but where severe distress can be debilitating too.  

We live in the information age where so much data is available to us. Along with data comes sensational, fact-distorting news about health and illness that we lap up. We become vulnerable and overestimate our risk of acquiring a disease. Fears crop for ourselves, our loved ones, up and the only safety net we build ourselves around it is avoidance of anything that could put us at risk.

Defensive reactions for self-preservation such as stigmatization of health care professionals, airline pilots, and xenophobia (don’t eat Italian food, the attack on the man from China) crop up. Our behavioral immune system kicks in when we see someone cough or sneeze (an allergic reaction, a tickle in the nose or throat, for example) and we look at them with fear or disgust. We recoil, without realizing how ashamed the other person felt. We stay home.

Quarantine fatigue is real. There are people who are bearing the profound burden of the lockdown and extreme isolation like the ones I have written about. And if that wasn’t enough we are dealing with incidents of pandemic shaming where we publicly call out and shame perpetrators’ behaviors on social media. Posting pictures on social media with an attempt to ridicule those morning walkers, people without masks, those violating physical distancing may not be effective in motivating compliant behavior. Shaming brings up defensiveness, isn’t persuasive but runs the risk of perpetuating maladaptive behavior such as hostility and counterattacks of “Who are you to tell me what to do!” It backfired.

In a webinar I conducted on psychological resilience in the times of a pandemic, I had people mention how they were at the receiving end of a host of judgments for not making the most of the lockdown. They saw staying at home as a silver lining for taking that well deserved break, for enjoying that much craved for solitude, but what they received were directives to “stop being lazy,” “work on yourself,” “now is the time,” even though they knew what they needed the most. Self-doubt crept in, “Am I really wasting my time and will I regret it later?” Glamorizing the lockdown needs to stop. These are indirect ways of festering a holier than thou attitude and is creating more rifts and chasms than needed.

Isn’t the threat of the virus enough?

What is it doing to us at a psychosocial level?

Our tendency to be fearful, anxious, irritable is high; we overestimate the threat and tend to be hyper-vigilant of every possible pathogen in the surroundings. We don’t know the trajectory of the virus and uncertainty looms large: Could I get infected? How serious can it be? That person I meet could be an asymptomatic carrier! How do I manage holding doorknobs, handling cash, the stuff from the grocer? Should I visit the hospital for the much needed physiotherapy for my broken ankle? Is this pandemic getting over?

The fear of the unknown is the fundamental fear underlying our anxieties. The news media doesn’t do much to alleviate it either because there is mass speculation on what “might” happen next.

Pandemics come in waves, and we need to be able to tolerate and work with a certain amount of ambiguity. Those of us who are unwilling to embrace that uncertainty are predisposing ourselves to distress which may functionally limit us, leading to let’s say, a high amount of health anxiety. We will refuse to step out of our homes, and even if we do, we will be in a state of high alert, causing our bodies to undergo immense stress.

Being in denial, with our head buried in the sand about the seriousness of the pandemic is also another behavior I would like us to be privy to. Thinking that we are immune to the pandemic, have a robust constitution which has withstood many illnesses, or have a false sense of optimism and bravado is not the need of the hour. Such people may underestimate their susceptibility to risk, may not pay heed to risk communications and may neglect to perform preventive health behaviors that are mandated for the prevention of the transmission.

Yes, human motivation, behavior, and responses are complex. We cannot expect civil obedience, conformity and compliance today when we haven’t seen it in the past decades in our country. And hence we are treated like children, governed by rules and disciplinary action, being told what needs to be done, without raising a word. It worked for a bit in the initial weeks of the lockdown, but now there is unrest brewing.

We collectively need to do our bit. Non-judgmentally, with compassion, kindness, and empathy. We cannot expect to have a relaxed lockdown if we don’t do our bit to ensure safety which is primarily physical distancing and good hygiene practices as priority. Enough with the fear mongering. Can we stem from a space of responsibility, of being in charge, of being calm yet concerned, of moving forward safely rather than avoid getting out of our homes completely, of being there for each other?

Our mental wellness is at stake. The well-being and security of our families are at stake if we don’t start getting out and bringing in money for basic sustenance. Our inner worlds are being jangled when we lose loved ones and are unable to attend funerals or grieve with friends and family; when we crave that physical presence of our loved ones. Our basic right to freedom is under threat when we can’t walk under the blue skies. Our children lose a bit of their childhood when they see domestic violence on the rise. Our parents’ faces show a few more wrinkles when they helplessly watch their children self-harm. We lose a bit of ourselves when the lockdown threatens our livelihood and we see no hope. We lose faith in the system that we trusted would protect us, but lets our citizens from the low socio-economic strata languish and struggle. We are now losing more than the virus could take away from us.

It took a pandemic to bring mental health to the forefront. And yet we continue to helplessly watch. We showed mirrors to people, but we didn’t show them what to do with the reflection.

So, having seen your reflection in the mirror, are you still going to watch helplessly?

*Note: The names of the people have been changed to protect their identity.

Contact ME!