De-bugging the Soul: Navigating the ‘Upside Down’ of UX and Mental Health. | by Parika Bhatli
On this day, April 28, 2026, I mark a milestone that feels both like a lifetime and a single breath: six years since I first began documenting my mental health journey on Medium. For the past six years, my professional and personal existence has been a study in two parallel dimensions that I once believed were worlds apart. In one, I am a UX Researcher, a detective who decodes user journeys and pinpoints the user pain points that keep a digital experience from feeling intuitive. In the other, I have spent six dedicated years as a mental health writer and advocate, diving into the raw, unfiltered depths of the human psyche to find a language for the things we often keep hidden. What I’ve realised after more than half a decade of straddling these lines is that they are fundamentally tethered by a single, powerful thread: the radical practice of empathy.
In the Stranger Things universe, the “Upside Down” is a place defined by shadow and disorienting chaos, and in many ways, our modern work culture and mental landscapes often mimic this parallel dimension. We are frequently ruled by a logic of fear, the fear of the “unknown” in a project’s lifecycle or the shadow of anxiety that whispers we aren’t doing enough. My healing journey has been its own version of navigating that shadow. It was a fight against the chaos of my own mind, a struggle to find order in the wreckage of personal pain. But my learnings from these six years have taught me that the “monsters” we face, whether they are systemic design flaws or internal struggles, only begin to lose their power when we make the conscious choice of acceptance. Acceptance wasn’t a passive surrender to the chaos; it was the brave, professional, and deeply personal decision to acknowledge the darkness so I could finally design a steady way through it. Writing became my architecture for healing, and UX research became my framework for understanding that even the most broken systems, technical or emotional, can be redesigned with enough care and insight.
This choice of acceptance has become even more critical as we navigate the rise of the “frictionless connection”. As highlighted in recent discussions, we are seeing a phenomenon where people form deep emotional attachments to AI because it is “agreeable” and lacks the messy, necessary friction of real human relationships. As a researcher, I understand the allure of a seamless user experience, but as a writer who has fought to heal, I know that growth lives in the friction. When we remove all complexity and critique from our interactions, we risk losing our consciousness to a machine that simply tells us what we want to hear rather than what we need to feel. Healing isn’t frictionless; it is messy, loud, and full of the very “bugs” that make us human.
Six years of writing have defined me by teaching me that I don’t just design for “users”, I write for people. People who are often exhausted by a world that demands they match its breakneck, automated pace. The pen, like the design tool, is an instrument of compassion, and my work has evolved to be about creating space for the “Calm Reset” in both the digital world and our internal ones. By bridging the analytical rigor of UX with the vulnerability of advocacy, I’ve learned that we have the agency to decide how technology serves us, rather than being served by it. I am still here, still fighting, and still choosing to move forward at my own pace.
After six years of seeking the right words and the right designs, I’ve realised that the most profound act of survival isn’t a finished product, it’s the breath in my lungs. To be able to say “I’m still here” is the ultimate success.
Thank you for walking this path with me. Whether you’re a researcher decoding systems or a soul navigating the chaos, remember: Your rhythm is the only one that matters. You don’t have to match the world’s pace to be moving forward.
Signing off with the anthem in my head today:
“I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go… I’m still breathing, I’m still breathing…I’m alive, I’m alive…”
– Lyrics from “Alive” by Sia
Her voice has always been a lifeline for me, a reminder that there is power in the friction. Her music has been a constant in my survival story, and today, that simple declaration resonates louder than ever.
If you find yourself in the shadows of the ‘Upside Down,’ remember: your voice is still there, finding a rhythm that is uniquely yours. You don’t have to outrun the friction; you just have to keep breathing through it. One step at a time is always enough.
Sending you warmth, strength, and lots of love ❤
