In Therapy

 

It’s been about 2 months since I tried this again. My first tryst went down quite poorly, with a therapist and therapy method (very classical Freud) that made me feel suffocated and annoyed. I quit after a few sessions and didn’t try again for another year. The second time I went in with more preparation. I looked into the kind of methods available and decided to try out two therapists before settling on 1. So far its been… interesting.

One of the reservations I had about this process was that there is danger of creating a dependence, which is something I want to avoid. But the healthcare system here makes that a bit easier to avoid. A therapist has lots of clients in waiting, and will be paid for sessions by the health insurance. So the motivation to manipulate you to make you a lifelong client for a good therapist is lower.

The second issue is a continuation of the first. Life is full of struggle and we do have to learn to deal with it, and equip ourselves with the tools for it. That’s why, for a certain time, going to a therapist felt like admitting that my tools and my support system wasn’t enough. I felt afraid, like I would create even more of a distance between myself and my friends and family, if I felt like I could not lean on them for support. But I see one thing after I’ve started. As someone who confides in my circle, this has not stopped because I now take my problems to a weekly session. I remain someone who shares, and shares deeply and freely, only now it might be about what I discovered about myself last week or a new outlook I am struggling with. So I’ve decided to similarly take the plunge, and write about it too.

The third issue is that I’m very afraid I will become someone who starts sentences with “my therapist says”.

Some people and TV shows make you believe that as soon as you start seeing a therapist, everything gets better. This has not been the case for me. Some sessions have been hard and difficult, the process overall is exhausting as it is forcing me to examine my life, decisions and way of thinking. On some occasions (at least 1), the therapist has been wrong. And that’s okay, because I went back in the next week and I don’t hold it against him. As someone who can be very task-oriented, I see him as someone trying to do his job. That’s why CBT is what I settled on, and what I think suits my needs best. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, while I don’t know the formal definition, is more about talking through problems in a structured manner, using tools to define the problem and find solutions, rather than about focusing on unconscious desires and past experiences. It is more “here and now”, and for an inherently impatient person like me, it works better than being asked to try to remember my dreams and childhood trauma.

So far I’ve learnt 2 really cool concepts. This blog is about the first, "the expat life satisfaction curve of diminishing marginal returns". I don’t know what its formally called, but that's what I call it anyway. Imagine the curve of diminishing marginal returns, applied to the life of an expat. When we first move somewhere new, everything is exciting and wonderful and exotic. For me, the sport facilities at the university, sport club system which inspired fan behaviour, the Kölner Karneval and the corresponding upbeat music were the best parts about my new life. I loved having access to a 50m pool, a beautiful field and green spaces to run. I went deep into Karneval culture and music, embracing the traditions introduced to me. I started supporting the local ice-hockey team and felt like, for the first time I was a “fan”. It was all very novel and I felt like I belonged to this "fan-base", in spite of that fact that I was the only non-white person in a 20,000+ audience.

Then I moved to Berlin. While it broke my heart to leave Cologne, I feel immediately in love in Berlin. The pace of the city, its history, rawness and charm made me feel at home instantly. I quickly made friends. It felt very international, yet, very German as my work was fully in German. It was so challenging and fast-paced, that 8 months flew by. I had lots of firsts in Berlin, my first time seeing an Opera (mind-blown!), first ballet, first time in the fan-zone at ice-hockey, first time partying till sunrise, first time I delivered a training for volunteers in German. Berlin will always hold a special place in my heart.

Once I moved back to Cologne and then to Bonn, I again fell into a different and very full routine. Lots of international travel for work, and a new job filled up my days. It was only in 2020, that it all came crashing down together. And long after the reality of Covid lockdowns had hit, I was left asking myself if my life in Germany made any sense at all. I felt disconnected, lonely and lost. I blamed a lot of it on being in Bonn, separated from people I loved, in a city that I found dull and boring. I only felt myself when I was back “home”, in Pune, with my family. Every day I considered moving back, and I knew I was quite miserable.

Karneval hasn’t really happened for 2 years. Sometimes I still listen to the music, but when I wore my cheery costume hairband to the store in Bonn on 11.11, people stared at me more than usual. During Covid lockdown no.X, I sat reading the online comments of fans of the Kölner Haie. It was a lot of Covid deniers SCREAMING to be allowed back in the arena. All the while, India was facing its second wave – a devastating whirlwind of Delta that tore through our population. Somehow, now, knowing that, sitting in that arena is unimaginably alienating, much more than being the sore thumb sticking out skin tone wise ever was.

I’ve gone from loving the sporting facilities to hating how very closed and structured every opportunity is. I’ve even written a blog about it. I’ve been wondering the whole time if I’ve become bitter or just negative. Things that I loved, no longer brought me joy.

Until the therapist explained the curve to me. I’ve been in Germany over 7 years now. Things are rarely still novel to me. I’ve moved around within the country a few times, that’s delayed the drop-off point. But now, I’m at the point where my life satisfaction is seeing diminishing returns. I see the “other side” of things that once seemed wonderful, better and brighter. I question the logic of the system, suffer under bureaucracy of everyday life and shitty landlords, just like any other German. Its normal that my happiness takes a dip at this stage. I’m not in the foreigner bubble anymore, just like I’m not in the desi bubble anymore. I know full well that if I do return to live in India, I will always compare it to Germany, and people will treat me as the “foreign-return”. Maybe I will even hesitate to drink water from an unknown source, which is probably not a terrible habit but can be awkward at times. I’ll find it loud and complain about the pollution. I will probably pass out from the heat (at least it will be a happy death as I will be clutching an Alphonso mango).

So now what? Let’s move to the US! My partner and I say. Its so much more dynamic professionally, for us both. I have friends there. We get excited and start talking about how we could live in sunny California and pay much less taxes than in Germany. Then we remember the (lack of) gun laws, and I remember the maternity leave policy, and the excitement wears off.

Let’s move to the Middle East then! We’ll make enough for a few years to buy a house and move back. We can visit India more often, yay! And employ house help and a driver! But then I remember that it’s the middle east, and the excitement wears off.

So now what? Apparently, I could try to build deeper roots here, my therapist says. Well, at least I didn’t start my sentence with it. I've now been in Bonn for over 3 years, the longest I have ever lived in any city and house, after my childhood home. I have always equaled having close friends to having roots. For the most part, I had no one real close in Bonn, so I felt disconnected. But I do have a good GP, a neighbourhood kiosk guy and shawarma guy who know me, a physiotherapist who knows my history, neighbours who greet me in the stairway, a favourite lane to walk, a favourite café, an Irish pub and a burger place, a swimming pool where the lifeguards chat with me, and most recently, a decent therapist. I even have a favourite "nasty old lady" neighbour to hate on through my kitchen window. Little things for most, huge for someone who’s moved as much as I have. Does that mean I have roots in Bonn? Horrified that I am to admit it, I can’t seem to deny it anymore.