I think I broke my therapist.
This man in his 50's, with worlds every bit of patience and gentleness has seen me in my micro bangs era (which, btw, looked like घराचं छप्पर).
He’s witnessed the breakdowns, the existential spirals, the “is time even real?” monologues. Never flinched.
Always gave “hmm… unhinged but harmless” energy.
But recently, I had a follow-up session.
(Aai was there because, let’s be real, my dysfunctional family is the reason I needed therapy.)
We were talking about how my exams went and how the new meds are working great...
Then my sweet, sweet mother decided to raise her biggest concern:
> “How did my feral coffee-addict child survive exams without drinking coffee?!”
Because once upon a time, I used to walk around with a literal bottle of coffee during exam season.
But now? I couldn’t drink coffee because of the meds.
And still — I pulled off all-nighters.
So I told him, very casually:
exam (8–10am) → home → eat → revise → nap (1–8pm) → wake up → shower → dinner → study all night → repeat.
And y’all… I broke the unbreakable.
His face went 😦 — actual system error.
This man, universe bless heart🛐✨️, who has never once questioned my functioning — because he knows I’m a threat to no one but my own mental health —
just looked at me and asked:
I told you I dissociated through an entire semester and you didn’t even blink.
But the lack of caffeine and freestyle sleep cycle? That’s what did it?
I fear I’ve entered a new level of chaos.
My therapist can handle me crying, spiraling, and contemplating the collapse of the universe.
But apparently, my sleep schedule is where he draws the line.
