Therapist pushes for support
I just started therapy. I’m only on my second session, but it’s already bringing up so many feelings I didn’t expect. Therapy is making me feel miserable about myself in ways I never anticipated. I’ve always been an advocate for therapy. I’ve preached how important it is to take care of ourselves, how beautiful it is to heal. It’s something I’ve fought for my whole life. But now being in therapy is making me feel so sick, like something is wrong with me on a deeper level. From the first session, I felt defective, disabled, incapable. I’ve never seen myself this way before. Before therapy, I was self aware of my own traumas that’s why I sought help. But I didn’t expect therapy to make those issues feel so real, to embed them into how I see myself.
I’ve also been feeling so angry, especially at Allah. My therapist asked about my family dynamics, my relationship with them, and my history. I told her I don’t have support from my family. They don’t even know I’m in therapy. I’m doing all of this on my own. She was shocked. She kept pressing on the lack of support in my life and telling me we need to do something about it. And hearing that has been painful. Because I’ve always known I don’t have support. I’ve been carrying my entire life on my own. No friends. No family backing me. Just me.
And yes, I know I can ask Allah. But I don’t bother to make dua because I know it happens in Allah’s timing, not mine. And in my timing, I need it now, like right now. Before therapy started, I begged and cried, “Don’t let me do this alone. Please send me someone to support me.” But no one came. So I learned to dissociate from that reality. I treat it like a dream, like something that doesn’t exist, because that’s the only way I can cope.
When my therapist brought it up, it shattered me. It made me realize how badly I want and need support, and I started becoming so rageful at Allah. Because here’s my therapist, more upset about my situation, more eager to help me than I feel God is. Imagine a God who lets me live this way and doesn’t change it. That thought filled me with so much rage. I kept thinking, “How is this fair, ya Allah? How is it fair that a human sees my pain and says I deserve better, but You’re letting it slide? You’re not sending me anyone. You’re not changing my situation.”
I hate to admit that my therapist is right, it hurts that I have no support. It’s like an aching hole in me that no amount of self-care can fill. It’s not just that my family doesn’t support me. It’s that I’m doing life on my own. After therapy appointments, all I want is to come home and cry in someone’s arms. But I don’t have that. I don’t even have privacy to cry. So I hold it in until I can sleep, or I cry myself to sleep. Sometimes I sleep 15 hours straight after therapy because I’m so emotionally and physically exhausted. It’s taking a severe toll on my mental health.
This is why I wish I had my family’s support. On days like these, I struggle to take care of myself. I can’t feed myself properly. I can’t keep up with life. All I can do is dissociate and sleep. It hurts. It really, really hurts. This is my reality.
I thought therapy itself was enough. You go, you talk, they support you, right?
I’ve also been noticing a lot of rage toward other people, even strangers. Sometimes I’ll see someone walking down the street, and my first thought is, “How dare you?” How dare you just walk around okay, happy, maybe loved, maybe with a spouse or friends or something that makes you feel like a human being who’s cared for. How dare you have that when I don’t. And then I reach out to someone, even another Muslim, and I get told, “But you have God, that’s enough.” And I’m like, how is that fair? How is it fair that you get to live that life while I’m here? What did I do to deserve this? What did they do to be blessed with this? Why am I the one who’s not worthy of it?
And now I’m watching my brother get engaged, and my family absolutely adores his fiancée. They talk about her. They find her beautiful. They enjoy her company. They see her as this wonderful, social, bright person. And I just sit there, feeling so much anger. Because I’m not like that. I’m not the social butterfly. I’m the stone. The one who can’t blend in, who can’t charm a room. And I keep thinking, “This is proof.” Proof that if my life had gone differently, if I hadn’t had trauma, I wouldn’t be this anxious. I paid the price once when I went through the trauma, and now I’m paying it again as an adult doing therapy, doing the hard work at an age when my brain isn’t even at its most receptive anymore. Back when those social skills were supposed to develop naturally, I was just trying to survive. Now I have to build everything from scratch, and it’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
I have two nieces and one nephew who mean the world to me. My nephew is always following me around. He always wants to play, wants to sit with me, wants to talk, even if he’s eating or playing games, he wants to chat. He has so much energy. Sometimes he even wakes me up from my nap because he’s been waiting for me to get up so we can play together.
And it breaks my heart. Because that used to be me. That carefree little girl who loved people. I used to love people. I used to do anything just to be around them. That part of me feels gone now. How can that girl who craved connection be the same person who now despises people, dissociates around them?
He reminds me of myself, of who I was before the shame, before being criticized and abused by my family, before being made to hate myself.
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Response from a “Fatima Counselor”:
Salam sister,
Thank you so much for sharing this, Sister. This shows immense courage and honesty in you !! Many people go through similar pain when starting therapy, but few can articulate it this clearly. What you’re describing the anger, exhaustion, loneliness, and even the rage at Allah are actually part of the healing process, not signs that something is wrong with you.Therapy feels worse before it feels better. The moment you start to touch those wounds, it can feel unbearable like you’ve broken ,open something you’ve spent your life holding together. This doesn’t mean therapy is harming you; it means the walls that once protected you are finally being examined. It’s painful but meaningful pain like cleaning out a deep infection so real healing can begin.Have you ever experienced the pain after doing any physical exercises after a long gap? The pain in your body, muscles etc Its a kind of meaningful pain , right? Just like that….Try telling your therapist exactly what you wrote here , the feelings of defectiveness, anger, exhaustion, and rage. A good therapist will slow things down with you, help you regulate before diving too deep, and make sure you don’t drown in the process. You don’t have to go through the storm alone in silence.What your therapist said about “lack of support” hit a raw nerve because it’s true and that truth hurts. You’ve been doing everything alone, and that’s not how humans are meant to live. That longing for someone to hold you after therapy, to just be there that’s not weakness; it’s a sign of humanity.Instead of pushing that longing away, you can start by naming it.I need connection. I need people who see me.
That’s not too much to ask for. It’s one of the most basic human needs.If you can, talk to your therapist about ways to build safe, gradual support, even if it starts with one small step , a support group, a volunteer setting, or a gentle social connection that doesn’t overwhelm you. You don’t have to go from “no one” to “fully supported” overnight. Think of it as building a bridge, step by step.
Your anger at Allah isn’t a sign of weak faith. It’s a sign of deep hurt ,the kind that comes from feeling abandoned by the One you trusted the most. Many prophets in the Qur’an expressed despair or questioned why their prayers weren’t answered right away. Even the Prophet (SAW) went through years of silence and hardship before relief came.In Islam, dua doesn’t only mean asking , it can also mean crying out your pain, even if it sounds angry. That honesty is still worship. Allah calls Himself “As-Sami” The One Who Hears and that includes your pain, your confusion, and your silence. Allah isn’t fragile. Allah can handle your feelings.This is such a human reaction when you’ve been deprived for so long. Seeing others live what you desperately want can feel unbearable. Try to treat that rage as evidence of longing, not of hatred. It’s saying, “I want that too. I deserve that too.”You can work with your therapist on transforming that rage into grief because grief is softer, more healing. Rage hides the pain underneath it.
The part of you that your nephew brings out the carefree, loving, connected child, she’s still alive. She’s just buried under layers of protection. Every time your nephew runs to you, he’s reminding you that love and connection are still possible. You may not feel it fully right now, but it’s there, waiting.Try to honor her in small ways:Talk to her gently (You did your best to survive. I’m proud of you.)Let yourself play with your nephew without judgment.
What you’re feeling is normal in deep trauma work.You are not defective , you are finally touching real pain.Therapy will get less overwhelming once you and your therapist adjust the pace.Anger at Allah and others is part of grief, not proof that you’ve lost faith or compassion.The loneliness you feel deserves acknowledgment, not dismissal.You are not alone in this journey. You can fight this and overcome.And at the end of the therapy you can find a meaningful “YOURSELF ” in you.
IN SHAA ALLAH!!
Warm regards
From your Sister in Islam,
“Fatima MV”
Response from your friend at Stones to Bridges:
Salaam sweet sister,
It sounds like you are and have been going through a lot. Every human needs to have some kind of support system in their life and when this isn’t possible, it can make life’s challenges even more difficult. When reading your post, I can get a sense of how conflicted you feel. You’ve always wanted to go through therapy but now that you find yourself in therapy, you are beginning to feel horrible about yourself. Are you able to connect well with your therapist? Do you feel that they care for you and genuinely wish for you to be successful? Part of an effective therapy relationship is that both the counsellor and client are able to connect and develop a solid working relationship. If you are struggling to connect/open up with them, this could also add to your feelings. It may also be that part of therapy is being able to see yourself in a different light. A good therapist can validate your feelings and develop some understanding of where you’re coming from; but they also gently challenge you in order for you to grow and blossom into the best version of yourself.
I hope that through your therapy process you are able to continue to grow and develop into the person your younger self would be proud of. It’s never too late for anyone to continue on a different, healthier path. Sometimes we tread that path on our own in the beginning, but you never know who you might meet as you go on your way.
I pray that you are able to heal from all of the struggles and difficulties you are facing. The ones you talk about and the ones you’re not quite ready to discuss.
All the Best,
Your Sister in Faith,
Peer Support Volunteer NL
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Habiba K
Alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuhu Dear Sister.
It sounds like you are navigating so much right now, and I want you to know that I truly acknowledge the depth of what you are feeling. It takes immense courage to not only seek out therapy but to show up and open yourself up to profound emotional pain. You certainly are doing the hardest, bravest, and most important work of your life.
It is not uncommon to feel worse before feeling better in the early sessions of therapy. You are beginning to open doors that have been closed for a long time. You have spent years building layers of armor just to survive, and therapy is gently removing some of that protection. The pain you are experiencing is not new; it is old hurt that is finally being seen and acknowledged. There is nothing wrong with you, it is just that you now are confronting how deeply those traumas wounded your sense of self-worth. And even though it can feel like something is breaking inside you, it is a sign that healing has begun.
The exhaustion and need for extra sleep after your sessions are indicative of how your mind and body are working through deep emotional processing. You are moving mountains within yourself. Often, dissociation and fatigue are the body’s natural way of protecting and rebalancing after intense inner work. They are not signs of weakness but a reflection of how hard you are fighting to heal.
I would like to suggest a few things that might help you cope between your therapy sessions. After each session, try to give yourself some recovery time. Instead of expecting productivity, plan gentle activities such as taking a walk, spending quiet time, or journaling to help you decompress. You also might keep a post-session note where you write down what was triggered, what emotions surfaced, and one thing you would like to discuss next time, this can help you feel more grounded and in control. Let your therapist know exactly how overwhelming the sessions feel right now; your therapist can help you build emotional safety before going deeper. And in those heavy moments, even if du’a feels out of reach, you can try to make a simple prayer even if it is just to say, “Ya Allah please help me.” You also might find relief in reciting Istighfar, it has a soothing effect that can ease distress and bring a sense of peace. It is something I often turn to during times of anxiety or hardship, and I have found it to be deeply grounding and helpful.
It can be disheartening when you have been pouring your heart into du‘a and things are not fully changing. Understandably, in such instances, faith begins to feel like another weight you are supposed to lift. Even Prophets cried out from despair. The fact is that Allah tests those He loves and experiencing difficulties and delayed responses to our du’as are designed as a means toward purification and elevation. At times, however, Allah begins answering us in ways we do not immediately recognize, through small openings, new strengths, or moments of clarity that ease the heaviness inside. For instance, let us look at what has already started to shift. Allah blessed you with the tawfiq to begin therapy and connect with someone who can genuinely support and guide you. Also, He has led you to the Stones to Bridges community to garner support from your sisters even if it is online.
Every prayer you whisper is heard, recorded, and held with care. But sometimes Allah delays our desired response because He knows what we do not. He may be protecting us from harm, preparing us for something better, or drawing us nearer to Him through our patience. Our duʿas are never wasted. Even when it feels silent, Allah is working behind the scenes. We call to Allah, not because we see immediate results, but because we trust His wisdom. And striving to wait with patience is, in itself, an act of ibadah.
When you see people who are happy and supported, your anger is not truly directed at them, it is aimed at the unfairness of a world that gave them what you were denied through no fault of your own. The part of you that is prone to that reaction is not your true self; it is a protective shield you built to endure pain. You are mourning the loss of a carefree growth you should have had. You were forced to survive trauma at a time when you should have been nurtured, and now you are tasked with rebuilding what others inherited with ease. But your struggle does not make you unworthy or hardened; it is evidence of your strength and the extraordinary circumstances you have fought to overcome.
Please know that you are doing something incredibly brave by facing the parts of yourself that most people spend their whole lives running from. Healing is not always a smooth path; it is often challenging, exhausting and filled with moments of doubt. But every tear, every restless night, every small step forward is proof that you are still choosing life, still choosing growth. Trust that something deep within you is shifting; softly, quietly and in ways you cannot yet see. You are not falling behind but rather in the process of becoming who you are meant to be. And the fact that you keep showing up and fighting, even when you feel broken, speaks to your incredible strength and resilience. So please be kind to yourself. You are not weak for struggling and, Insha Allah, better days are coming, and when they do, you will look back and realize you were healing all along.
Undoubtedly, you have been carrying a reality far too heavy for one person, and you were never meant to bear it alone. Although you are moving through a storm right now, the clouds will part, and this season will pass. You are not behind, even if it feels like others had the chance to grow while you were just trying to survive. The work you are doing now, rebuilding from the ground up, is harder, but it also is more genuine and enduring. Please know that the compassionate, curious girl is not gone; she is still there, she is merely waiting for the safety that your healing is slowly creating so she can return.
So please take heart, your story is still unfolding under the care of the One who never leaves you, even when the path feels dark. Every tear, every small act of endurance, is seen by Allah and held in His mercy. You are exactly where He is shaping you to be. One day, you will look back and see that what felt like breaking was actually a gentle remaking, that the weight you carried was molding your heart into something softer, truer, and closer to Him as well as transforming you into someone wiser, steadier, and more whole.
May Allah ease your burdens, answer all of your dua’s, wrap your heart in gentleness, and guide you toward healing, peace, and the love and support you have always deserved.
Your Sister in Islam
Peer Support Volunteer Habiba K