I had my first psychotherapy session when I was 30 and was back at school again in a far flung foreign country. At that time, I had been contemplating suicide for some time as part of my existentialism quests. I had always had an affinity for big questions in life and felt that at the end life is purposeless since we will all die. I generally feel that life is not interesting and not worthy fighting for. My existentialism quest stretched out abit when one day I caught myself dangerously crossing the road with my bike. I didn’t do it to commit suicide ( I knew car crash would barely kill me). I did it to gauge people’s reaction towards dangerous behaviour (Again, part of existentialism quest).
I wouldn’t have actually gone to see my university therapist at that time had it not been free. First, I just wanted to talk to someone and practiced my English. Second I knew seeing a therapist was an acceptable activity in the West and assumed that while living abroad it would be my only chance to experience it without losing face. And the last it was free. So there I went. I was assigned for 10 session an hour therapy, once a week. Continue reading