Finding myself “on the couch” and baring my soul to a mental health therapist wasn’t a situation I’d ever imagined to be in, but I remember that first visit in mid-2023 well – the picture of me sprawled on a chaise longue. Therapy was, admittedly, my last bastion of hope.
For more than a year before that, I had been living with mysterious chronic pain – it got so debilitating that I sank into despair (and depression) after countless hospital visits bore no answers.
From rheumatology to orthopaedics, neurology, gynaecology and pain management, I was referred from one department to another – and hospital visits became part of my weekly routine.
Read Full Article At Source
