Trigger warning: this piece discusses themes of suicide, suicidal ideation, and loss of a pet.
I only realised much later in my teenage years that what I was experiencing wasn’t ‘normal’ distress, but something deeper that I couldn’t simply push through or outgrow. What ultimately inspired me to seek support came from two very different, yet equally important sources – my best friend and my late rescue cat.
My cat was critically ill when we rescued her. Watching her fight to survive and slowly get better taught me what hope looked like in its quietest form. She eventually passed, but before she did, I made a promise to her: that I would try to keep going and see the world on her behalf when she no longer could.
My best friend was the other reason. I realised that I didn’t just want to survive; I wanted more time. More moments. More memories with someone I loved. Seeking help became a way of choosing connection over silence, and life over simply enduring. She played a huge role because she never saw me as fragile, broken, or defined by my illness. She saw me as me: someone still worthy of friendship, laughter, and love. That kind of acceptance grounded me when everything else felt unstable.
The biggest impact on my journey came from one person, one cat, and how I was treated by the world around me.
At the same time, my experiences with society and educators shaped me in a very different way. Mental health was often spoken about loudly, help-seeking was promoted, awareness was praised, and support was celebrated in words. Yet, when it came to real, ongoing struggles, that support quietly disappeared. I was looked down on when all I needed was understanding and an alternative way to learn; not to be excused, but to be given the same chance to participate and succeed alongside my peers.
What was meant to silence me became the reason I chose to keep going; not out of anger, but out of purpose. I want to be part of the change in a system that so many young people fall through.
One positive thing that has come from my journey is learning that support, when it is genuine, can change outcomes.
I’m deeply grateful for my best friend, who stayed beside me, and for the educators who chose to truly help. To those who fought for me to receive alternative arrangements instead of giving up on me. With that support, I was able to sit for my national examinations and achieve mostly Bs. When the right accommodations continued, I also went on to attain high distinctions in both of my modules in private school.
I’m proud not just of the results, but of what they represent: that when young people are met with understanding rather than judgement, they are capable of succeeding in their own way.
I wish more people understood that mental illness is not a choice.
Too often, people compare mental illness with physical illnesses as being ‘less than’ in a way that minimises our pain. Both affect lives deeply. The difference is that one is visible, while the other is largely invisible. Language matters. Just because suffering cannot always be seen does not mean it is any less real or life-altering. What people don’t see is how their quality of life has been slowly deteriorating, sometimes to the point where holding on no longer feels possible.
Over time, I became afraid to disclose that I have struggled with mental illness, even though I am someone who genuinely requires support. When I did speak up, I was looked down on and made to feel as though failure was inevitable. Because of that, I often ended up struggling alone, unsure of where or how to ask for help.
People often label those with mental illness as ‘attention-seeking,’ without understanding how mental illness actually works or the daily reality of living with it. Although mental health is widely taught and discussed in schools, that understanding doesn’t always translate into real-life empathy. That quiet rejection can be just as painful as the illness itself.
The most helpful part of my healing journey has been being seen for my potential rather than my illness.
When people, especially educators, were willing to support me and make adjustments instead of giving up on me, it reminded me that I was still capable. Still learning. Still worthy of opportunity. That belief made a real difference in my ability to keep going.
Don’t let the world change who you truly are.
If you are kind and empathetic by nature, don’t let cruelty harden you or force you to become someone you’re not. Holding on to your values can be incredibly difficult. Life will test them again and again, but they matter more than you realise.
Stay, even when it’s painful. Stay and be the light that guides other struggling souls. Stay and become the change for those who truly need it, even if you can’t see the impact yet. Choosing recovery has allowed me to turn my experiences into purpose.
Through my journey, I’ve been a peer supporter in my schools, completed a Certificate in Practical Counselling (Basic) at 16, and I’m currently a youth advisor with Flourishing Minds by Singapore Children’s Society. These experiences affirmed that supporting young people isn’t just something I care about; it’s the path I want to walk.
I aspire to become a clinical paediatric psychologist, and I’m currently completing my foundation diploma with hopes of progressing into a diploma in psychology and counselling. My advocacy journey is driven by a desire to give my struggles meaning. Being unheard and neglected by society and educators opened my eyes to a reality many young people face quietly. If change requires someone to speak up and challenge the system, then I choose to be that voice – to speak loudly, so others don’t have to suffer in silence. A quote I often repeat to others is: “See me for what I can give, not what I have.”
I can’t control my mental illness or my physical health, but I know that I am a kind person who loves animals and helping others. I don’t want my abilities or worth to be limited to my diagnoses. When my cat passed, I promised I would continue to see the world on her behalf now that she no longer can. And I will hold onto that promise.
One thing I would like to share is a hope for greater recognition and inclusion of mental health needs in Singapore. I hope Singapore can move towards recognising psychiatric service dogs. For many individuals, including myself, animals provide a level of comfort and grounding that humans sometimes cannot. They can play a powerful role in recovery and daily functioning, offering safety, emotional regulation, and reassurance during difficult moments.
I hope mental illness can be formally recognised as an invisible disability, and that the Hidden Disabilities Sunflower Lanyard scheme can be promoted more widely. Having visible signals like this can help educators and peers better understand that someone may be struggling, even if it isn’t obvious. It encourages kindness, patience, and softer approaches – things that can make a meaningful difference in everyday interactions.
These changes may seem small, but they can help create a society where people feel supported rather than misunderstood, and where struggling does not mean being overlooked.
-Hannah
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