
Where does it hurt the most? I wonder.
I think this is supposed to be a journal entry where you get to be vulnerable and pour out whatever feelings are inside you, honestly, without any care in the world. Without any guilt. You might cry, and maybe it won’t help, but it’s still a form of release.
Today, I think where it hurts the most is my throat. Not because of a cold, but because there are emotions I’m trying to get out of me, and I can’t, because I truly don’t know where it hurts. Is it really my throat? My heart? My stomach? My mind?
And if it’s not exactly my heart or my stomach, why do I feel it in other parts of my body?
Why am I feeling it in my throat? It’s like a barbed wire constricted around it. Then I feel tears collecting around my eyes.
So now if I ignore it, I won’t know what to say when someone asks me how I feel.
And this brings me to another thing.
As someone in the psychology field, people ask me a lot, “How do I know that I need therapy?” It’s a question I’ve heard so often, and for a long time, I didn’t know what to tell them. So I decided to go on a quest and find something simple and relatable to respond with.
Sometimes, we don’t know that we need help until we feel something so deep within us—something unexplainable. And for a long time, we’ve been told that those who ask for help are people of unsound mind. But that is not always true.
When we look at ourselves in the mirror and think, hmm, I need to put on some weight or I need to lose some weight, that’s something we’ve noticed and recognized, and we know we need to do something about it.
But when it comes to psychological help, it’s not as easy as looking in the mirror and quickly noticing something. It takes time to realize that you need help. And even when we claim we don’t need it, it will always show—in how we treat others and ourselves, how we behave in relationships, how we deal with stress, how we regulate our emotions, and what coping mechanisms we rely on.
So for me to feel like my throat is constricted with barbed wire; that’s something else. It’s an issue gnawing at me. It’s showing itself in the only way it knows how, asking to be dealt with.
I’m a firm believer that therapy works. I always use this example: there was a time when talking about certain issues in my life would make me cry. I couldn’t even say two words without feeling overwhelmed. But I went to therapy, and I processed most of it. Now, I can talk about those same issues without feeling bitter, and without feeling overwhelmed.
I once heard that healing means reaching a point where you can speak about something without bitterness, without being overwhelmed, and it feels like just another conversation.
Which brings me to my next question:
What does therapy actually help you with?
Like I mentioned before, we were conditioned to think that therapy is for the unsound mind. But in reality, there are so many things we need help with. Maybe you’ve noticed you don’t manage your time well. Maybe you struggle to regulate your emotions. Maybe they get out of hand quickly. Maybe you rely on unhealthy coping mechanisms, like excessive drinking. Maybe you don’t manage your finances well. Maybe you need to become more self-aware.
Maybe you need to break away from certain family ties but don’t know how to do it in a healthy way. Maybe it’s attachment in relationships—you don’t understand why they don’t last, or you’re constantly anxious that people will leave you. Maybe you’re overwhelmed by work, pressure from those around you, or the frustration of not getting a job.
If we look at all this, these are things most of us label as “normal.” Things we’re supposed to just deal with and get over. And yes, they are part of life.
But what happens when they get out of hand? What happens when you reach a point where you feel like, this is too much for me to deal with?
It often starts with talking to someone you trust. And not just talking, but opening up. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable.
I know vulnerability is uncomfortable for most of us. But you don’t have to tear yourself open all at once. What about little by little?
And if that isn’t enough, perhaps professional help?
I know what you’re thinking next: “Therapy is expensive.”
Yes, it is. It’s expensive because it is healthcare, just like any other health profession. And part of the resistance comes from the idea that you’re “just talking” to a therapist.
Yes, there will be a lot of talking. But not just talking. It’s being listened to deeply, it’s reflecting, it’s being challenged, it’s working through the present, it’s doing the uncomfortable work, and it’s getting to the root of things you didn’t even realize were affecting you.
It’s interesting how we can pay a lot of money for a quick physical consultation where a doctor barely looks at us, but hesitate to invest in someone who sits with us for an hour or so, listens deeply, and helps us unpack our lives, and understand ourselves.
So now, after all that… where do we find these therapists?
Luckily, things are so digitalized now that it’s easier than ever to access therapy online. For instance, right above your eyes on this blog, there’s a toggle written e-therapy. Click on it, and voilà, help is right there.
So why not start today? And let’s see where it takes you.



I love how simply this is written and the analogy of noticing something easily when you stare in a mirror, i think that is something closely related to knowing when you need help.