How a Bengaluru Mother Looked Past Mental Health Stigma To Get Her Teenage Son the Help He Needed

“We were extremely worried. But the way they handled everything made us feel safe, like we weren’t alone in this anymore.”

The memory still sits heavily with a 46-year-old mother in Bengaluru.

Her son had always been a bright student. Between Class 11 and 12, the pressure of preparing for a competitive entrance exam slowly began to change him. Sleepless nights became routine. Irritability crept in. Small setbacks felt catastrophic. What initially looked like ‘normal academic stress’ began to spiral into something far more serious.

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As a parent, she sensed it before she understood it.

“I didn’t come from a background where reaching out for mental health support was a stigma,” she admits. “But I could feel something wasn’t right, and as a non-professional, there was only so much I could do.”

The helplessness was overwhelming. When a child is physically unwell, there are tests, prescriptions, and clear next steps. But when emotional distress takes over, parents are left navigating uncertainty — questioning whether they are overreacting, fearing judgment, and wondering what seeking psychiatric care might mean for their family’s reputation.

That fear — of labels, of whispers, of “what will people say” — still shapes how many Indian families respond to mental health concerns.

The weight of silence in India

Nearly 150 million Indians require professional psychological support, yet a large number never receive it. The reasons are layered: limited access to trained professionals, financial constraints, social stigma, and the deeply ingrained belief that mental illness is a personal weakness rather than a medical condition.

In many households, distress is dismissed as a phase. Emotional breakdowns are attributed to a lack of resilience. Parents blame themselves. Individuals internalise guilt.

“In our culture, there’s a lot of self-blame — parents asking what they did wrong, individuals internalising guilt. That stops people from seeing mental health as a condition that deserves care,” says Sandesh Cadabam, Managing Director, Cadabams Group.

But for this mother, silence was no longer an option.

A late-night decision

The night they finally sought help was one of quiet panic. They arrived late, exhausted and unsure of what to expect. The uncertainty was frightening. Would he be admitted? Would he be judged? Would this define his future?

Instead, she recalls being met with calm.

Over the weeks that followed, her son began structured care — therapy, clinical evaluation, and consistent follow-ups. It was not a quick fix. It was not dramatic. It was patient, measured, and gradual.

“This isn’t like a fever or dengue that passes overnight. It’s a condition, and healing takes patience and time,” she says.

Seven years later, her son is stable and rebuilding his life. For her, the lesson is clear.

“Why suffer when there is a solution?” she asks. “We worry so much about what society will say — about visiting a psychiatric hospital. But if you are okay, everyone around you will be okay too.”

When one member of a family struggles, the impact ripples across the entire household. Recovery, she realised, is not just individual — it is collective.

Seeing the crisis beyond the clinic

For Sandesh Cadabam, these stories are not isolated incidents.

“The biggest crisis I saw growing up wasn’t just the illness; it was the stigma. People didn’t know how to seek help or even how to name what they were going through,” he says.

Having grown up witnessing the realities of mental healthcare in India, he saw firsthand how families delayed care, not because they did not care, but because they did not know where to turn.

Over three decades, Cadabams Group has built specialised mental healthcare services in Bengaluru and beyond, spanning psychiatric care, addiction recovery, dementia support, and long-term rehabilitation. But the philosophy guiding that work remains simple: mental health is an illness, not a moral failing.

Stigma, however, does not disappear overnight. It evolves.

Fear of being labelled. Fear of isolation. Fear of damaging a child’s future.

And sometimes, fear escalates into crisis.

When memory began to slip

For another family, concern began quietly.

Their 77-year-old mother had always been resilient, a caregiver to her husband living with Parkinson’s disease. With children living in different cities and countries, much of the responsibility rested on her shoulders.

Subtle memory lapses appeared first. A family doctor suggested dementia. But soon, the symptoms intensified.

She stopped sleeping. She spoke continuously through the night, sometimes coherent, sometimes not. Medications prescribed elsewhere seemed to worsen her state, pushing her into a euphoric manic phase.

“None of us were prepared for what we were seeing. It was overwhelming,” the family member recalls.

By the time they sought specialised care on 29 September 2025, fear had overtaken logic.

Choosing patience over assumptions

Instead of rushing to confirm the initial diagnosis, clinicians chose to observe. She was admitted to the JP Nagar facility, where the first week showed little visible improvement.

It tested everyone’s patience.

But slowly, through structured routines, therapeutic engagement, careful medication adjustments, and a controlled environment, patterns began to emerge. It became evident that constant family interaction, though well-intentioned, was intensifying her distress.

With careful explanation, the family agreed to a brief rehabilitation period with limited visits. For 15 days, they did not see her, but they received consistent updates.

“That communication mattered the most. We never felt left out of her journey,” the family member shares.

Around the twentieth day, when they met her again, they noticed the change immediately. Her speech had slowed. Her routines were structured. Calm had begun to return.

By November 10, 2025, she was discharged, nearly 90% recovered.

“What stayed with us wasn’t just that she got better but also the patience and dignity with which the entire process was handled,” the family member added.

Today, she is reconnecting socially and gradually shedding the hesitation that once surrounded psychiatric care.

Reaching those who never walk through the door

Yet even as families like these find support, a larger question remains: what about those who never reach a clinic?

Access remains one of India’s most pressing mental health challenges. Trained professionals are limited. Urban-rural gaps persist. Affordability remains a barrier.

This is where Cadabams’ digital initiative, Mindtalk, was conceived, as a way to extend support beyond physical centres.

Designed to provide clinically guided mental health assistance through chat and voice, Mindtalk functions as an ongoing companion between therapy sessions. It integrates evidence-based screening tools, journaling prompts, progress tracking, and personalised recovery guidance, all under clinical supervision.

“Technology should never replace therapists. It should enable care, bridge gaps, and support recovery between sessions,” Sandesh adds.

Dr Anitha Bharathan, consultant clinical psychologist at Cadabams, observes the gap firsthand.

“Many individuals struggle in the days between therapy sessions without structured guidance. Factors such as affordability, location, stigma, and limited professional availability often delay care.”

Mindtalk attempts to bridge that gap, not by replacing human care, but by extending it.

“Technology doesn’t replace clinicians, but it makes mental health support continuous and accessible,” adds Dr Anitha.

Over recent months, the platform has facilitated between 1,750 and 2,000 digital sessions per month, alongside thousands of in-person consultations across centres. But beyond metrics, one detail stands out.

“What excites me most is how many of them are first-time help seekers — people who would otherwise never ask for support,” tells Sandesh.

For many, the first step is not walking into a hospital; it is typing into a private screen.

From fear to conversation

For the mother who once arrived in panic, the transformation has been deeply personal.

She speaks openly now, encouraging friends and relatives not to delay help.

Stigma, she believes, dissolves when families begin talking honestly about mental health.

And perhaps that is where change truly begins — not in institutions or technology, but at dining tables, in quiet admissions of vulnerability, and in parents choosing courage over silence.

“If every Indian had access to clinically safe support, our society would simply be happier,” Sandesh says.

In a country long accustomed to whispering about mental health, these families are choosing something radical: they are choosing to speak and to seek help.

And in doing so, they are changing the narrative for others who may still be hesitating at the door.

All images courtesy Cadabams Group

Sources

‘India’s Mental Health Landscape in 2025: Ground-Level Insights’ by Mental Health First Aid India, Published on 27 May 2025

Cadabams group