The lives of UAE psychologists: Who heals the healers? Stories of burnout, breaking down, and helping others

Gulf News

22-04-2025

The psychologists talk about the pressure of being emotionally resilient
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(Assistant Features Editor)
Oh, you're a psychologist. You can probably spot depression in yourself a mile away—and stop it before it even begins.
An Abu Dhabi-based psychologist who prefers to remain anonymous, remembers a party where an acquaintance made this seemingly light-hearted comment. What made her more uneasy, was the two people next to him, laughing. 'There must be some point of being a psychologist, right?' One of them told her, chuckling. 'You can fix yourself.'
The psychologist stayed silent at first. 'I could have launched into a long lecture about how narrow-minded that was, but I didn't want to. So I walked away, excusing myself,' she adds. 'I had just had the most excruciating week that time. I was going through a divorce, and I almost had a cancer scare.'
She didn't meet her clients for two weeks during this time. 'I took leave, because I needed to recover before helping others too. And I too, went to psychologists to understand and heal. And once I felt rather steady, I returned to work,' she says.
It's difficult and overwhelming. The psychologists know they're not superheroes and aren't immune to burnout, either. And they are also exceedingly aware that they are helping others who are going through similar storms too, and cannot allow their own anxieties spill over to them.
So, how do they manage? How do they stop themselves from burning out while giving light to others?
'My body gives me the clue'
Nusrat Khan, a Dubai-based clinical psychologist who deals with trauma on a regular basis, knows the signs of a burnout in her after 20 years in the field. As she says, burnout isn't always blaring, loud and unpleasant. It slithers in, quietly, starting with a subtle shift.
As she explains, the reasons why therapists also face burnout, is that they're exposed to intense emotions every day, and their mirror neurons keep adapting constantly. The response is heightened, and when you listen to such stories on a regular basis, the balance does get thrown off. The sleep patterns go for a toss.
There is emotional numbness. The brain is rewired, and if they don't check it, there is a sense of biological dysregulation.
Khan explains. 'It's not easy, especially when you're a fresher. At that time, you're under pressure to keep taking on cases, and believing in resilience. But 20 years later, I recognise the warning signs. I know when I'm not able to connect with people around me. Even after a day that seems inspiring, I would come home and my emotions would be flat. I find myself craving solitude.'
It has been a series of hard learnings, but she has now trained herself to listen to these whispers of burnout. 'I ask myself, what I need, not professionally, but as a human being.' The nervous system needs healing, and unless it is, it becomes difficult to connect with others.
While she is insistent on prioritising rest and solitude, she adds that she also has her own therapist. It's a myth: That therapists don't need therapy of their own, she says. 'When some of these triggers occur during the sessions, I realise they're trying to tell me about my own issues. When I go to a therapist, I unpack and unload and that helps me,' she says.
Khan also explains the value of being surrounded by people she loves. 'I have friends, family members, who don't see me as a psychologist. They remind me I'm loved. We don't discuss heavy stuff all the time, and we do stress-busting activities. And I have the support of my teachers too. Being a psychologist, I have also trained my children, I ask them to give me time to reset, and they understand. I get my space,' she says
The pressure of emotional resilience
How does one manage to keep calm, listening to painful stories of torn families, broken childhoods, shattered marriages---stories that might somewhere mirror their own? Another Dubai-based psychologist who would prefer to be named as just Teesha for now, remembers her early days, and the difficult of holding back tears. 'One of my first clients had such a painful story to share, with such visible emotional scars, that it broke my heart,' she says. 'That night, I couldn't sleep at all. And I realised that if I needed to help her, I couldn't show her my tears. She trusted me with helping her and wasn't looking at me as just a friend to vent to,' she says.
It has been years since that day, and Teesha does feel the intense pressure to be emotionally resilient. 'But I take care of myself better, and work on healing. I tell myself, that someone is trusting me implicitly with their life. I need to center myself. I find my own ways to deal with the stress of the profession, because at the end of the day, I know that I chose this profession to help others,' she says.
'Giving myself permission to fall apart'
Similarly, Khan heartily agrees about the pressure to be emotionally resilient. 'It comes with the territory that I've chosen. There seems to be a rule that we, psychologists, should have it all together. It's this expectation that feels burdening. But resilience, is not about being unaffected. It doesn't mean that things don't affect you,' she says.
So, what does resilience mean to her? It means rest. Recuperation. 'I allow myself to fall apart when needed, and that feels empowered. I give myself the power to be human. Only then, can I connect with others,' she says.
On the other hand, Farah Dahabi, a psychologist from LightHouse Arabia feels confident in her resilience. 'I do not feel the pressure to be so. Resilience isn't about never struggling; it's about recognising when something's off, understanding it, and reaching for the right support. As therapists, we know how to navigate pain because we've been through it too, even if each person's experience is unique,' she says.
Why they choose to do what they do
It's not the breakthroughs that keep you going, it's the shifts, explains Khan. Since childhood, she explains that she has always been moved by experiences that people go through. 'This is meaningful and has always made me want to better myself. The privilege is to witness clients lives, and feel their trust in us. I witness pain, internal storms, brokenness, and how they put the pieces together. That, for me, is everything.'
For Khan, this isn't just work. It's who she is. It's a sentiment that Teesha agrees with, too. 'The bittersweet joy of seeing someone, who has suffered so much, feel safe again. You watch them grow, and you grow with them. You go home with the feeling, 'This is why I'm here'.'
Similarly Dahabi adds, 'What keeps me going is seeing people turn their pain into wisdom. It's an incredible privilege to witness the strength and transformation that happens when someone feels safe enough to open up and begin healing,' she says. 'I became a psychologist, because I wanted to help make the world a better, and understand why people do what they do.'