The first photo is always of the two lines. Not her face. Just two pink lines on a white plastic stick, held slightly out of focus by a hand we don’t recognise as hers, because by then it has already stopped being just her hand.

That is where the transition begins - Not with a birth but with a disappearance.

At the six-week scan, the technician turns the monitor toward her and says, there’s the heartbeat. Everyone in the room leans in. Her partner squeezes her hand but does not look at her face as he is looking at the screen, at the small flickering proof of someone new. She is lying on a table with cold sticky gel on her belly, and for the first time in her life, she understands what it means to become a window. People will look through her now, not at her.

She will spend the next nine months being congratulated for things she did not do consciously. You’re glowing. Look how big you’re getting. Won’t be long now. Nobody asks how she is sleeping, even though she sweats through in an air-cooled room. Nobody asks if she’s scared, though she is wetting her pants so often. The comments land on her body but somehow miss her entirely, the way sunlight passes through glass without leaving a mark.

At the baby shower, the gifts are wrapped in pinks, blues, yellows and mint greens. Onesies. A mobile shaped like clouds. Someone gives her a book called ‘What to Expect’ and she thinks, expect from whom, expect for whom? No one has handed her a book about what will happen to her. Her name is on the invitation, but the party is not for her. Is she merely the venue?

Then the baby comes, and the disappearing accelerates.

For weeks, visitors arrive at the door holding flowers and more gifts, and they ask to hold the baby before they even step into the house. She stands there in the same clothes she wore yesterday, hair unwashed, body still soft and strange and aching in places she did not know could ache, and she waits to be asked how she is doing. Mostly, she is not.

Someone will eventually say, almost as an afterthought, ‘How are you holding up?’ and she will say fine, tired, you know…’ because there’s no time in that doorway to explain that she does not recognise her own reflection anymore, that her body feels borrowed, that she cried in the shower this morning for no reason she could name.

The forms at the paediatrician’s office ask for the baby’s weight, length, feeding schedule and sleep patterns. There is no form for her. No one is weighing what she has lost, and we are not talking about just the baby weight, but the version of herself that used to finish a sentence, used to sleep eight hours, used to walk into a room and be seen as a whole person rather than an extension of someone utterly lost. What support can professionals provide during these visits for regular baby check-ups?

Leave a comment

Strangers in the grocery store lean into the stroller and coo. They rarely look up at her. She could be anyone pushing that stroller. She could be a stranger, a nanny, a ghost. The baby is the only one who is real to them.

By the time the child is in preschool, she has a new name. Everyone calls her Mum. The teacher calls her Mum. The receptionist calls her Mum. Even her own mother sometimes calls her Mum, laughing and then correcting herself. She does not see the joke. She used to have a name that was hers alone, the one her own mother whispered to her as a child, the one that meant something before it meant someone’s mother. Now it surfaces only on IDs and old friends’ lips, like a language she used to speak fluently and has started to forget.

She goes to parent-teacher meetings and talks about her child’s reading level. She goes to birthday parties and stands in the corner with the other mothers, trading stories about sleep regressions and picky eating, and somewhere in the small talk, she realises she hasn’t said an original thought about herself in months. Not because she doesn’t have one, but because no one has asked.

At home, she is the one who remembers the dentist appointments, the permission slips, the size of shoes that will need replacing in six weeks, the friend’s birthday and the fact that they are low on milk. This is called the mental load, and it is invisible labour precisely because it produces nothing anyone can see - no finished painting, no growth chart, no photo for the fridge. Just a woman quietly keeping a hundred threads from snapping, day after day, and being asked, when she finally sits down, why she seems tired.

Somewhere in there, her body changes again, and again no one notices except her. The stretch marks that silver over on their own timeline. The new softness at her middle that used to be flat and now just is not, and never will be again, not really. She looks at old photos sometimes of herself at twenty-five, unlined, unhurried and grieves the way people least expect. It is not vanity. It is that she is trying to locate the woman who used to live in that body, and increasingly, she is not sure where she went. Is she lost forever?

Meanwhile, the child grows in ways everyone celebrates. First tooth. First steps. First day of school. There are photos for all of it, captions, comparisons to last year. Growth charts pinned to the fridge. Every inch of the child’s transformation is documented, praised, marked in pencil against a doorframe.

Nobody marks hers. Nobody notices that she used to laugh more easily, or that her hands have started to look like her mother’s or that she flinches now at loud noises in a way she did not before, or that some mornings she stands in front of the closet and does not recognise any of the woman the clothes were bought for.

Then, one day, decades from now, the child will leave. The house will go quiet in the particular way houses go quiet when the thing they were built around has moved out. Friends will ask gently, ‘How are you adjusting?’ as though this is a new kind of disappearing, when really it is just the same one, arriving at its final shape. She has been vanishing in instalments since two pink lines on a white stick. This is only the last one.

Maybe she will stand in the doorway of the empty room and finally ask herself the question nobody else thought to ask, all those years, ‘Who are you, underneath all this?’ and maybe for the first time since she was twenty-something and pregnant and terrified and glowing for reasons nobody understood, she will have the time to go looking for the answer herself.

She was never just the venue. She was always someone. It is long past time we said so, out loud, and often, and to her face, with a lot of love and compassion.

This is the exact terrain The Circle | Life Transitions was built for - the identity shifts nobody prepares us for. Drop a comment to know more.

- Supreet Dhiman,

Mental Health Expert, TEDx Speaker and Author

📧 contact@shaping-destiny.com

By the way, have you thought of the masks you wear on a daily basis?

Vikram’s reaction was not unusual. He is in fact, quite the norm. Across offices, families and friend groups in India right now, there is a quiet epidemic of men who are excellent at being needed and somewhat out of practice at being acknowledged or truly seen.

“We didn’t relate to boundaries,” one participant said afterwards. “But we understood expectations perfectly.” Another one asked me after the circle was over, “Can we really set boundaries in close relationships?”

What’s Actually Going On Underneath

Men are usually expected to be the troubleshooters. Sadly, that role rarely allows them to ask how something actually feels, so the question becomes: who benefits from that trade-off?

A 2025 study by Joshi, N. & Krishnan, U. (2025) of 403 Indian men aged 18-29 from urban India found that it wasn’t masculine norms themselves that discouraged men from seeking help. Rather, it was the self-stigma that those norms quietly built in them. The belief came first, and the silence followed automatically.

One of our facilitators, Dr Jerath named the pattern: emotional labour. Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild first coined the term to describe how workers are expected to perform calmly regardless of what they actually feel - the mask men wear to put the bread and butter on the table. After eight or more hours of performing, solving, leading, negotiating, and regulating emotions at work, many men return home with their emotional reserves already depleted. They don't consciously choose to disengage; they simply have less capacity left for the invisible work of noticing, listening, comforting, and connecting.

This role of being the sole bread-winner is balancing out over the decades, but have the men forgotten to put the mask down? Over months and years, these exhausted men have been returning home quietly, reshaping the families. Conversations have become transactional, emotional needs remain unspoken, and everyone learns to function together without always feeling deeply known by one another.

Thus, perhaps develops the habit of jumping straight from “something is wrong” to “let me fix it,” and you get men who rarely ask themselves the one question that might actually help: what do I need right now?

Think of it like being the designated driver at every party of your life, without anyone ever asking if you wanted to drink.

Turning Awareness Into Action:
The “Permission Audit”

While running through life it is easy to forget that this is a habit, not a life sentence and habits can be examined. One exercise I use with men’s groups (safe to try at home) is what I call the Permission Audit.

1. Name the Mask
List the roles you show up as - the fixer, the funny one, the strong one. Give each one a name.

2. Catch Yourself Mid-Mask
For a week, notice the exact moment you put one on - before you’ve even asked if it’s needed.

3. Ask What It’s Protecting
For each mask: what am I afraid would happen if I took this one off, even briefly?

4. Name the Cost
Every mask collects rent, so what is this mask quietly charging you - your energy, your rest, or personal bonding?

5. Give Yourself One Permission
Pick just one. Say it out loud, the way our circle did:

“I give myself permission to laugh more.”
“I give myself permission to ask for help.”
“I give myself permission to (emotionally) rest.”

As Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability suggests, letting ourselves be truly seen is the braver option, not the weaker one.

Comment below: what mask did you forget you were wearing?

Leave a comment

Small Shifts, Real Change

Vikram did not overhaul his life. He started small with a mid-week call with a college friend, no problem-solving allowed. Ten minutes of comedy clips before bed instead of email. One boundary promised to set for himself at least once a week: “I don’t have the bandwidth for this right now.”

A week later he shared, “It felt selfish to begin with, but it is so liberating. I can feel the weight shifting off my shoulders. I have suddenly found the windows of opportunity to spend more time with the kids, which in return is releasing more time for my wife.”

The Mask Is Learned. So Is Taking It Off.

Men are not wired to hide what they feel, but they are trained to, early and thoroughly. That means it can be untrained too, one small permission at a time.

Don’t wait for a crisis to change the habits that are hurting you more than helping, even those around you. Just answer honestly one core question: what mask am I wearing right now, and do I actually need it on?

If you are in Chandigarh (tricity region), wondering what mask you’d forget to write down, The Circle | Men meets monthly. You may find the details at shaping-destiny.com/the-circle-for-men

*Name changed to protect identity

- Supreet Dhiman,

Mental Health Expert, TEDx Speaker and Author

📧 contact@shaping-destiny.com

Mohali-based professional Amrit Pal Singh, 38, thought he was doing what many men do every day, balancing responsibilities quietly.

Alongside supporting ageing parents, raising a young child, maintaining his fitness routine, and mentoring four young IT professionals, he noticed that one of his mentees, 26-year-old Arjun*, seemed different. He came across as distracted, less energetic, more withdrawn, sad and less hopeful.

When Amrit gently checked in, he discovered that Arjun had recently lost his father unexpectedly. The fact that Arjun lived in a metropolis while his bereaved mother and sister lived in a far-flung smaller hometown complicated the healing from grief for all of them. What had once been a home full of hope and laughter had suddenly fallen silent.

Over the following weeks, Amrit went beyond his role as a mentor and turned into a sounding board, a guide and source of encouragement. What surprised him was how Arjun’s loss affected him too. He had become protective of his own father, and started thinking about his little son in a different light.

“It made me realise that we men are carrying much more than our own struggles…Sometimes we are carrying the worries of everyone around us.”

The experience raised an important question: How often do we stop to ponder how the men in our lives quietly carry more than anyone realises?

Eventually, he encouraged Arjun to seek professional support. His first session begins next week.

Subscribe now

Looking Beyond Father’s Day

Every Father’s Day, we celebrate fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, friends, and colleagues. We acknowledge the men who provide, protect, support, mentor, and show up when others need them. Yet rarely do we pause to ask:

Who supports the men who support everyone else?

Over the past few weeks, Shaping Destiny conducted a survey among 340 men aged 18-80 years from the Tricity region to better understand their experiences of stress, relationships, wellbeing, purpose, and support.

The findings were both poignant and revealing.

• 58% reported emotional exhaustion or burnout.

• 42% reported significant work-related stress.

• 41% reported pressure linked to family responsibilities.

• 38% reported relationship difficulties.

• 35% reported loneliness or social isolation.

• 27% reported struggling with questions of purpose and direction.

• 24% reported financial pressures.

Yet perhaps the most striking finding was this: 91% had never participated in a dedicated space where men could openly discuss life's challenges.

The Silent Struggle

Chandigarh-based entrepreneur Amit*, age 45, rarely misses a deadline. He provides for his young family of 4, manages a growing team, supports ageing parents living in another city in Punjab, and is the person friends often call when they need help. Recently, however, he admitted something he had never said aloud before.

“Everyone thinks I’m handling things well. The truth is, I don’t remember the last time someone asked how I was doing and genuinely wanted to know the answer.”

Panchkula-based IT professional Rajeev, age 51, is struggling to balance the deadlines at work, his social-justice commitments, keeping an eye on his octogenarian mother’s health while supporting his only child - a daughter aged 18, for endless competitive exams and the NEET exam that happens to be today, on Father’s Day. Rajeev has gained 8 kg in the last 6 months, appears bloated and has become pre-diabetic. Much less relax, he barely gets to sleep and finds himself walking a tightrope every single day.

Experiences of Amit and Rajeev may resonate with more men than we realise.

The Loneliness We Don’t See

Loneliness is often misunderstood. It is not simply being alone but a disturbing feeling that there is no one with whom you can be fully yourself. A person can be surrounded by family, colleagues, friends, and social media connections, yet still feel profoundly alone.

The survey suggests that this may be true for many men, not because they lack people in their lives, but because they may lack spaces where they feel safe enough to talk honestly about fear, disappointment, uncertainty, grief, relationships, purpose, or emotional struggle.

For generations, many men have been taught to be dependable, resilient, and self-sufficient - all valuable qualities. However, who chose to turn these into norms for men? When strength becomes synonymous with silence, the emotional cost can be significant.

In the pursuit of living, so often we brush the day-to-day stress under the carpet, and it remains unspoken, rarely disappearing. Till it finds expression elsewhere, in our health, our relationships, our work, and our overall wellbeing.

Link to the Survey

Men Are Not Asking for More Advice

One of the most interesting findings from the survey was what men said would genuinely help.

Most were not asking for more motivational content, no quick fixes, no agony aunts or uncles. They were not even looking for someone to solve their problems.

What many wanted was surprisingly simple:

• Meaningful friendships.

• A sense of belonging.

• The opportunity to learn from other men’s experiences.

• Someone who listens instead of just offering advice.

In a world overflowing with information, many men appear to be searching for something far more fundamental: Connection.

What This Means for Families, Workplaces, and Communities

The wellbeing of men is not just a men’s issue because it deeply affects families, relationships, workplaces and communities. When men thrive emotionally, they often become better partners, fathers, sons, leaders, colleagues, and friends. When they struggle in silence, the effects rarely remain confined to one individual. This is why conversations around men’s wellbeing matter: every human being needs a warm, trusted human connection - their own safe space.

A Final Reflection

The men in our lives are often the first people we call when we need support.

Perhaps this Father’s Day, along with a bouquet or a brunch or a dinner, ask the father around you, ‘Who do they call when life becomes difficult?’

The answer may tell us far more about wellbeing than we realise.

At Shaping Destiny, this survey is meant to explore the inner world of men that they keep away from the world. It is intended to listen. So far what we have heard from the men in the tricity is that many men are ready for healthier conversations.

Maybe the first step is simply creating spaces where those conversations can begin.

- Supreet Dhiman,
Mental Health Expert, TEDx Speaker and Author

📧 contact@shaping-destiny.com

Bengaluru-based software engineer, 24-year-old Rohit*, once prided himself on meeting every deadline, acing every project, and being the “go-to guy” in the office. Yet lately, something strange was happening. He would stare at his laptop for hours, unable to make even simple decisions, feel utterly drained after short meetings, and wonder, “Am I losing my mind?”

✨ Does this resonate with you? Join 1,000+ readers exploring mental health tips every month.

Subscribe now

Rohit’s story isn’t unique. Across India, burnout is silently creeping into offices, colleges, and even our homes. A 2022 survey showed that three out of four Indian employees report stress-related dysfunction, with 38% experiencing frequent burnout. And for students, the pressure cooker is even hotter: the NCRB reported over 12,500 student suicides in 2022, many linked to relentless academic stress.

“Burnout doesn’t whisper; it screams,” yet too often, we pretend we are fine.

What’s Really Happening in Your Brain

Burnout isn’t just about being tired, it is biology at work. Chronic stress impacts the prefrontal cortex, our brain’s decision-making, problem-solving, and emotional-control hub. Dr. Amy Arnsten at Yale University discovered that prolonged stress physically shrinks this region, explaining why leaders like Rohit struggle with “brain fog.”

The villain here is glutamate, a neurotransmitter that normally helps neurons communicate. Under constant stress, glutamate surges like a car stuck at full throttle, damaging brain cells. Meanwhile, dopamine, serotonin, and GABA - our motivation, calm, and joy chemicals take a nosedive. No wonder even the simplest tasks feel impossible.

Students aren’t immune. From relentless exams to family expectations, long study hours, and cultural obligations, young brains are under continuous “fight or flight.” The result? Anxiety, emotional exhaustion, and mental burnout.

Think of it like trying to run a marathon with a backpack full of bricks. Eventually, your legs and your brain just can’t keep up.

Turning Awareness Into Action: The “Boundary Audit”

The good news? Our brains can heal, thanks to neuroplasticity. With the right tools, routines, and boundaries, recovery is possible. One of my favourite CBT + SEL exercises for leaders, students, and professionals is the “Boundary Audit.” It is safe to try it at home too!

Here’s how it works:

Step 1: List Your Core Roles

Write down all the roles you juggle: professional, familial, social, personal.

Step 2: Track Your Energy Drains

For a week, note tasks, meetings, or obligations that leave you mentally or emotionally drained.

Step 3: Evaluate Necessity & Alignment

Ask yourself: Which activities truly align with my goals and values? Which can I delegate, postpone, or say no to?

Step 4: Set Healthy Boundaries

Use assertive communication:

• “I can’t take on this meeting today; can we reschedule?”

• “I will respond to emails after 10 AM to focus on deep work.”

Setting boundaries isn’t selfish. It is survival. Even Brené Brown said, “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.” Protecting your mind is part of that change you need to introduce in your life.

Comment or contact if you would like to receive the Boundary Audit

Leave a comment

Small Changes, Big Wins

Rohit slowly reclaimed his brain through CBT-informed routines: morning yoga, regular work breaks, evening walks, social connection through cricket and quizzes, and weekly reflective journaling.

He smiles now and says, “It’s a process, but knowing my brain can heal gives me hope.”

Some households are finding similar success with micro-boundaries: from “no screen Sundays,” to a dedicated “focus hour per day,” or a weekly check-in with a mentor or friend. Small tweaks compound into massive change.

Takeaway: Burnout is Systemic, But Recovery is Personal

Burnout may feel invisible, but it’s real. For leaders, students, professionals and housewives alike, prioritising boundaries, emotional resilience, and cognitive wellness is no longer optional but essential.

Each of us can start with small, daily interventions. Your brain isn’t broken; it’s overloaded. And with the right boundaries, routines, and support, it can heal, thrive, and lead you toward clarity, resilience, and sustainable performance.

Don’t wait for burnout to hit like a tsunami. Start your Boundary Audit today. Your future self will thank you.

*Name changed to protect identity

- Supreet Dhiman,
Mental Health Expert, TEDx Speaker and Author
📧 contact@shaping-destiny.com

CTA: If this piece resonated, help it reach someone who might need it.

Share