Navigating healing, identity, and the path to becoming a psychotherapist.
The idea of sharing my story of becoming a therapist has been sitting with me for a while now. On one hand, I thought it might be inspiring or relatable to someone out there. But on the other hand, the doubts kept creeping in. Who would even care about my story? I’m not a celebrity or anything. Still, the idea wouldn’t go away, so here I am, giving it a go.
The next question was where do I even start? It didn’t feel right to begin all the way back in childhood (no one wants that much context), but I also felt like I needed to set the stage a little. So, I figured i’d start with why I wanted to become a therapist in the first place.
Looking back on it now, it feels like revisiting a turning point in my life. A moment when things shifted and a new path appeared. (Yes, I know, it sounds a bit cliché, but bear with me.)
In some ways, my journey into psychotherapy began in a pretty typical way. I was trying to figure myself out. Heal the parts of me that weren’t working, because, let’s be honest, there were quite a few. But let’s not dive into all that just yet.
After about a year of being in therapy myself, something clicked: Holy crap, this actually works! That’s when this little spark lit up inside me ‘Maybe, just maybe, I could be the one sitting in the other chair, helping someone else have those same lightbulb moments’.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How these seemingly small realisations can end up changing the course of your life. As I continue sharing my journey ,becoming a psychotherapist in New Zealand, navigating the challenges of being a Russian immigrant, and everything in between, I hope it resonates with you.
We all have stories to tell, and sometimes, in the sharing, we find those little threads of connection that remind us we’re not so different after all.