How Therapy Gave Me My Eureka Moment

About nine years ago, I was convinced that my life was over.

I’d graduated from university about a year before that, securing a respectable degree in journalism with good grades. Despite that, I’d left without any real idea of what I wanted to do with my life. Seeing friends with high-profile jobs and their own houses and cars took a toll on me as I struggled to find my place in the world, a calling. Watching others move forward as I felt stagnant caused me to fall into a deep depression, feeling that I had little left to live for. It began insidiously, first pressing on my mind throughout the day – small taps of worthlessness. It only grew as the time from when I had graduated stretched further and further into the past.

I can remember distinctly when I realized that something was wrong with me; it was a cold February day, shortly after my birthday. After a particularly bad dream where I was back at university, I awoke with a near-unbearable sense of despair so severe that I struggled to get out of bed. Nothing would shake the feeling.

Around the same time, my mum and brother had recently completed a beginner’s therapist course with a professional psychologist. The sessions appeared to have helped both of them. Realizing I needed outside help and seeing this as my chance, I sat down with my mum and spoke with her about my depression, my loss of joy for life. She provided me with the contact information for this psychologist so I could begin therapy immediately.

The sessions were slow at first. Despite being open to the support, I didn’t notice any progress in the first few sessions. After the third or fourth session, however, something changed. My therapist said that I already knew it to be true, despite my brain’s refusal to acknowledge it: this belief that my life was over wasn’t correct. I was only 23. Of course my life wasn’t over! I had just needed someone, a stranger, to examine my life and my thoughts and confirm that yes, I still had so much to live for. Such a simple statement, and yet it changed so much in an instant. It was like someone had shone a light in the darker corners of my mind, chasing the shadows that lingered.

You often hear about something clicking inside a person’s head, or a lightbulb lighting up. A ‘eureka’ moment, if you will. I’d never experienced anything like it until that moment. The feeling of despair began to dissipate as a result of that conversation. I was almost euphoric as I told my therapist of this breakthrough at my next session. Once I’d realised that my life was far from over, I worked with my therapist to look for ways to get my life back on track, determining how I envisioned my own success. I continued for a few more sessions, and by the end, I began to see the light at the end of the tunnel. A few months later, I went back to university, earned a master’s degree, and began my career as a writer. While my depression has never completely vanished – especially given the unprecedented nature of the last few years – I’ve become much better at identifying negative spirals and dismissing them.

Therapy saved my life

Writing about this a decade later feels weird. This belief I had held obviously wasn’t true, and it still isn’t today. I’m 32, I’ve worked as a freelance copywriter for five years now, and I recently started working with an international agency. There are still speed bumps here and there – the COVID-19 lockdown was rough, and I still have struggles with OCD and insomnia – but ultimately, I’m quite happy with my life. It’s strange to think back to a time when I was convinced that there was nothing left to look forward to.

Despite all this, I can’t help but wonder whether I would’ve experienced this eureka moment if I hadn’t gone to therapy. If I’d never seen that therapist, would I still be stuck in the depths of despair? Would I even still be here? I’d like to think that eventually, with the help of my friends and family, I would’ve been able to move past it, but I can’t know for sure. All I can be sure of is that I’m glad I got the help I needed.

It could help others like me

I’ve wondered about others who have suffered from similar thoughts. Are they able to see a therapist? Do they find the support they need? I was extremely lucky; I had money saved up to pay for visits, and my therapist provided me with a discount because he knew my parents. Even so, it was still expensive – upwards of £100 a session.

The price of therapy near me has only worsened as the cost of living crisis continues, and the NHS’s backlog means if you’re not willing to go private, you could wait years to see a therapist. There are so many people out there with the same problems that I had, but without any way to get past them. How many people are still waiting for their eureka moment? How long will it take them to chase away their shadows?

I can only hope that, as mental health awareness becomes more prevalent, the UK government will take steps to make therapy more accessible to the general public. It may not work for everyone, but it helped me understand my own brain, giving me the confidence to make connections, and kickstart my writing career. 

I just hope that other people in similar situations, with or without therapy, find a light to guide them forward.