Therapy!

Therapy!

My luminous eccentricities were spilling out in the darkness of unrelatability (is that even a word) with my peers, which worried my friends who then suggested, therapy.

So, that’s how I decided to maybe get some help, to understand all the confusions I had, not to sort it, maybe, but just to make sense out of it.

13th June 2019, after spending a month in Delhi which initially was hostile but now has become part of the routine, I took on the mammoth task to actually go through the process of finding a place and then calling them up to book an appointment, phew, I thought this was the largest mountain I’ll have to climb, :p. Curtains were drawn as bookings were made and thus began the new act.

I was a bit anxious before reaching the clinic, it’s always the anticipation of the process which is scarier than the actual process. I booked a cab and started reading articles about what therapy is like and what one must expect from the process. With my homework backing me I reached the site, but of course, finding the clinic was another big task, I found it eventually.

The clinic was in the basement of some apartmental structure which honestly felt a bit spooky at first glance. I started walking down the stairs and there was some mystical, spiritual music playing in the background, hm, pretentious, puffed my brain. Sofas were laid down across the waiting area, I sat on one, all geeked out about whatever I had read about psychology and stuff related to human behaviour.  One thing that kept bugging me which I did mention to my therapist on our first call was, “ does having a good day, affect the process of therapy?” to which she said, “No, it doesn’t, we should actually try to decipher what makes a day good for you” which made complete sense.

A girl, not very tall, brushed past, her eyes felt like a crater made by an asteroid, deep and dark, completely detached from her face, uff, she must have cried oceans inside, I thought. My chance had come to walk in the room.

Therapy, I thought was about visiting a fancy psychologist with a fancy clinic and a fancy room with strange props staring through my eyes inside my mind, turns out, it isn’t like that. It was a simple room with a simple sofa garnished with simple cushions and a person who’s there to listen to whatever you say.

I sat down, where she asked me to, swaying my legs in the air because of my physical limitations, I sat like a kid on a big sofa who’s looking at the room with utmost curiosity and innocence. The process of drinking my surroundings was abruptly discommoded by my therapist who inquired, “How are you?”

Hm, how am I? I thought, but the real question that I was struggling with was “What am I?”

I don’t even remember what I rambled on for 2 hours, but I think I said all the Permutations and combinations of words and thoughts that I have ever had, which she addressed was just the tip of the iceberg, hun, so I’ll have to talk more…

The best part of the whole experience was that I had a session on my good day, A day when I was already high on life, as the phrase says, after the session, precipitation of all my thoughts on her notebook made me feel lighter, though I don’t know what I had exactly released to feel this light but I did, I did release something, something that was tied across my head to pull me down, perhaps the gravity felt lighter, weaker.

This will always be an experience to look back to and also to look forward to!