By Hugging Club of India (Based on a session with Prasoon Prakash)

In a world that constantly tells us to push harder, climb faster, and never show weakness, the bravest act is often not success—but survival. And sometimes, survival means putting your career on hold, leaving the exam hall, and choosing your mind over your marksheet.

This is the story of Prasoon Prakash—a scientist, a PhD scholar in AI, and a living testament to the fact that mental health challenges do not have to be the end of your story. They can, in fact, be the beginning of a deeper, more honest one.

A Humble Beginning, A Heavy Inheritance

Prasoon comes from Karatathar, a small village in Jharkhand, and later grew up in a semi-urban area near Bokaro. Academics came naturally to him. In a highly competitive environment where half his friends would eventually make it to IITs, Prasoon was expected to follow a familiar script: take science, crack NEET, become a doctor.But somewhere between class seven and class ten, something shifted. The loneliness crept in. His two elder sisters had left home for their graduation. The house felt emptier. The pressure felt heavier. And by 2010, he knew something was *off*—though he didn’t yet have the language for it.

He had never even heard the word psychiatrist.

The First Cracks and the First Risks

By 2011, Prasoon was drowning. He was preparing for medical entrance exams, but the real battle was not in the syllabus—it was in his own mind. He recalls thinking, *“Even if I get into a medical college, will I survive?”

That question changed everything.

In a rare and radical act of self-awareness, he walked up to his school principal and said, “I don’t want to complete class 12 this year. I need treatment first.”

His principal listened. And Prasoon did something even harder: he dropped out. Not because he was lazy or lost, but because he was brave enough to admit that he couldn’t heal and perform at the same time.

This was his first real risk. And it would not be his last.

The Long, Lonely Hunt for Help

What followed was a grueling, years-long odyssey through India’s mental healthcare system—often without a map, without money, and without hope. He travelled 24 hours from Bokaro to Delhi in a sleeper coach in December, wrapped in a thin blanket, because he couldn’t afford AC. He waited from morning to evening at AIIMS and RML. He saw psychiatrists who misdiagnosed him, prescribed heavy doses of Fluvoxamine (up to 300 mg), and left him grappling with terrible side effects—weight gain, brain fog, and exhaustion.

One doctor in Lajpat Nagar told his mother: If he cannot even focus on watching television, it is too much to expect him to study.

Another added: *“He will have to be on medication for the rest of his life.” Prasoon was 17 years old.

The Night He Almost Left

After nearly a year of failed treatments, misdiagnoses, and mounting frustration, Prasoon reached his breaking point. He deliberately overdosed on 22 pills, hoping to induce a diabetic coma—using his mother’s diabetes medication. It was not a spontaneous cry for help. It was a calculated, exhausted decision to end the pain. But his body fought back. Shivering and overwhelmed by hunger, he got up to open the fridge. His mother heard the noise. She stood in front of him. And in that moment, the truth spilled out.

He was rushed to the hospital, made to vomit, put on a glucose drip, and admitted for several days. He was 17 years old, sitting in a hospital bed, with no idea what *next* even meant.

The Quiet Grace of Family

What followed was not a dramatic turnaround, but something perhaps more powerful: presence.

His father told him to just show up for the class 12 exams—even if he left the paper blank. His sisters assured him that failure would not mean abandonment. His family did not fix him. But they stayed.

He appeared for his board exams as a private candidate, barely having touched his textbooks in a year. He expected to fail. Instead, he scored 80%—a result he still cannot explain, but one he now accepts with quiet gratitude.

Small Mercies, Small Steps

Prasoon moved to Varanasi, where his sister was studying. He joined a coaching institute, not with dreams of glory, but with a fragile hope. His physics teacher—a man he never met again—saw his potential and told him something extraordinary:

I will refund your fees. Take your time. Get treatment. Come back only when you can give your full effort.

That act of compassion was not just kindness. It was permission to heal slowly.

Eventually, he was admitted to IMS BHU, then CIP Ranchi, where he underwent RTMS (repetitive transcranial magnetic stimulation). But the real turning point came when he started asking questions—not just to doctors, but to himself.

He learned that his initial diagnosis (OCD mixed) was incorrect. The correct diagnosis was Anancastic Personality Disorder (OCPD)—a condition with ego-syntonic symptoms that often overlap with OCD but require a completely different approach.

Finally, after years of being treated for the wrong illness, he had a name for his experience. And with that name came clarity.

Where He Stands Now

Today, Prasoon is pursuing a PhD in Artificial Intelligence. He has not erased his past, nor does he romanticize it. He speaks openly about losing jobs, quitting things, failing, and feeling ashamed. He does not pretend to be a hero.

He is simply someone who refused to let a misdiagnosis define him.

He is a reminder that the path to healing is rarely linear. It involves wrong doctors, wrong medicines, wrong diagnoses—and sometimes, the right family member standing in the kitchen at 1 AM.

Lessons from a Survivor

Prasoon’s story offers not just inspiration, but practical insight for anyone navigating mental health challenges while building a career:

– Healing cannot be scheduled. Sometimes you have to drop out, pause, and prioritize your mind over your marks.

– Misdiagnosis is real. If treatment isn’t working, seek a second opinion—or a third. The right diagnosis can take years.

– Family support is not about fixing. It’s about staying. Even when they don’t understand, their presence matters.

– Compassion from unexpected places—a principal, a physics teacher, a stranger—can change everything.

– Survival is not failure. Walking out of an exam hall, leaving a coaching center, or taking a break is not giving up. It is choosing to live another day to try again.

Final Word

Prasoon’s journey from a village in Jharkhand to a PhD program in AI was not a straight line. It was a series of collapses, small recoveries, wrong turns, and unexpected graces. He did not win despite his mental health challenges. He learned to walk with them.

And in doing so, he became exactly the kind of person the Hugging Club of India was created to amplify: someone who proves that mental illness is not a life sentence. It is, sometimes, the beginning of a more honest, more compassionate, and more meaningful life.