Kisah Kamek

“I hope you heal from the things you don’t talk about.” – I first saw this quote back in 2021, and I can’t tell you how much I needed that. It had stuck in my head since then.

I often hear people telling people to talk about their issues, or to share about their feelings, because a problem shared is a problem halved. While I agree at some point, and always encouraged people to reach out (hypocrite much), I can never bring myself to actually reach out. Why? Therapists might say I did not grow up in an environment that was safe enough for me to ask for help. Ha! I guess they are partially right.

You see. I don’t exactly have a healthy upbringing. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not here to blame anyone. Let’s face it – our parents do not have the perfect parent guidance book, they are not perfect, nobody is. They give us their very best, and I appreciate that. Anyway, like I said I grew up in a messed up environment. “Be strong for your mother.” was the advice given to me since I was 10, and it somehow became my life motto (need to work on that btw). Seriously, if I could reach out to the 10-year-old me, I would smack every single person who gave me that “advice”, and yell “YO SHE’S JUST A KID!” in their face.

My mother used to tell me if I can go through this family mess, I can get through anything. Nothing can beat me. Yeap, she was right. I pretty much mowed down every obstacle I faced throughout my life, thinking (or pretending) I am the baddest b*tch on earth.

Little did I know, when you pretend your trauma don’t exist, pretend it does not hurt, it becomes stronger. That hurt eventually swells. It takes so much space inside me that I don’t realize. It becomes so loud that it is convincing me the trauma is my fault: what happened and how I’ve dealt with it. What made it brutal is I hold myself back from feeling that pain, despite how crucial it is. I fawn. I tiptoe around it as if my mind is a minefield. I dodge the memories of how it felt and what hurt the most.

It is complex, the very thing I’m afraid of is what I have to face the most.

In its own twisted way, this “armor” is self-sabotage: by letting my trauma make a home in my body, I was keeping myself from true healing.

“You need to talk to someone.”, they said. Go to counseling. Tell your stories. You will feel better. Trust me, I tried. Sure, my friends are some of the best people I met. They are more than willing to listen to me. I could talk to them but then I’d all be back there in the black hole again. And who could get me out? It is not that I haven’t longed to speak, to scream it out, to eradicate it from the fabric of my being, but my scream gets held back in my throat or at the recurring jolt awake at 3am. There were times I was so close… words slid from the back of my mind to my tongue, but my lips wouldn’t say them. Silence seems only place that feels right. It’s the only place where I can contain all that possesses me now. What I know and don’t know. What I feel and don’t feel. What happened and what didn’t happen. What I am certain of and what I doubt. All of it.

My question now is – does that mean I can’t heal? Does that mean I am fated to the exasperated, exhausted “Screw it. It is what it is.”? All those tears I try hard to stifle carry all the weight of everything that I can’t say. They are my lifeblood that connect my mind to my heart. I am still pretty much still alive inside. Those thoughts that are too hard to think, that messed me up over and over and over again? They’re not any stronger than me. They are NOT me.

Here’s the thing, I believe not talking about your experiences does not mean you have not set an intention to heal. It does not mean that you are not moving forward. This healing process can take place in your mind without you ever uttering a word out loud healing – as long as you have consciously decided that you are not going to stay where you are.

Why am I writing this? I don’t know. I think I needed this years ago and – allow me to assume – there are probably some of you out there that resonates with this. Someone who carries their burden silently, someone who griefs quietly, someone who is fighting the war alone… if you are one of them, this is for you.

It is okay if you don’t talk about it, or if you just can’t talk about it YET. We all heal differently, as long as you are consciously deciding that you are not going to stay where you are. 

I hope you heal from the things you don’t talk about.

I hope you heal from the things people have stopped asking about because you appear to be okay.

I hope you heal from things that people did not apologize for.

I hope you heal from the things that shattered your faith.

I hope that pain gets replaced with the kind of happiness that makes you appreciate why things had to happen the way they did.

I hope everything falls into place at some point.

And if you aren’t there yet, I hope you get there soon.

Cheering for you today & every day.

“Haiya, you gila, is it? I send you to Sentosa lahh!!!”          

 “Aiyerrr… someone going mad eh.. Send you to 7½ mile lah!”     

Have you ever encountered such words, especially when you were a kid? When kids would fight, cry or get mad, and call out the words ‘7½ Mile’ or ‘Sentosa’. I’m sure most people of my generation from Kuching can relate.

To those who are unfamiliar with those words or never experienced such ‘moments’, I congratulate you—you are fortunate.

So, what do ‘7½ Mile’ or ‘Sentosa’ imply? They are nicknames of Sentosa Hospital (SH), formerly known as ‘Sarawak Mental Hospital’. It is a government hospital in Kuching that treats mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder and psychological inertia.

It saddens me that even in this modern era, people still perceive this place as an asylum—such as those portrayed in movies and television—that houses lunatics and psychopath who are potentially harmful to society. If you have watched movies like Joker or television shows like American Horror Story: Asylum, you will know what I mean about the impression people may have of SH.

Such mindset and stigma often cause patients—who may have gotten better or otherwise—to be fearful about their situation being known, even to family members. They are afraid of being judged or perceived as crazy, dangerous, a disappointment or most importantly, an embarrassment.

I was sent to the emergency ward in Sarawak General Hospital (SGH) under instructions of a general practitioner in KKPJ. I literally begged the psychiatrist to place me in SGH because the thought of being admitted to SH was horrifying. I felt ashamed about having a patient record at SH. The thought of people talking about me filled my mind. “Stay away from her, she’s from a mental hospital” was constantly on replay. However, due to the limited beds at SGH—half of the psychiatric ward had been converted to cater for Covid-19 cases—I had to be placed in SH.

I was kept in the isolation room of SH because new or short-term in-patients were kept separated from their current residents to curb the spread of Covid-19. I only met two other patients who came in at around the same time. I did, however, exchange waves and smiles with other residents through the window.

When I was on my way to SH, I kept imagining asylum scenes I had seen in movies—fighting, screaming and shouting. I was nervous. After almost a week without communication with anything outside the hospital—not even my immediate family—I must say it was not as scary as I had feared. The truth is, although SH may be old and overdue for an upgrade, it was PEACEFUL. To my surprise, I heard and experienced nothing traumatizing at all. What I did hear on a daily basis, was the singing of a male resident, coming from the in-patient ward which is a distance away. Yes, it was THAT loud. The nurses in the isolation room were pretty good singers too. It felt as though I was at a campsite where friends would sing around the campfire.

The staffs were really really really nice. I wrote ‘really’ three times because they truly were and they were patient. However, you may feel annoyed having to repeat yourself over and over again to the doctors but trust me, they mean well. They need to understand your situation as best as they can.

Mental illness varies among everyone. Each patient has their own situations and conditions. Take for example, a voice in your head—whether it is heard in your mind or through your ears or whether it is your own voice or someone else’s can lead to different conclusions. So, you can imagine how long the mind map is for each patient.

I never entered the in-patient ward. Hearing about it from the nurses and pharmacist, it sounded like a pretty nice place to be. Efforts are made to make patients feel at home. This is why, if you have noticed, throughout this article I have addressed them as ‘residents’ instead of ‘patients’; they were like a family in a longhouse. They did daily chores together; helping to distribute food, disposing garbage and cleaning the compound (which allowed me to get waves and smiles from my isolation room window).

I also found out that there are residents who may never leave the hospital even if they are well. Why? It pains me to say this—they have nowhere else to go. Many of them are disowned. This is the problem with the stigma on mental health patients. This is the reason I wrote this article. This is the reason this article is titled “Will you not be afraid of me?”

Do you see how this stigma can affect another person’s life? On the other hand, I also want to illustrate how nice SH is. They do not chase you away once you are well. If you have no place to go, they will let you stay, even until you depart this life.

Thank you for having read my article to this point. I ask you, please do not ostracize people who suffer from mental illness or have been treated for them. Please do not avoid them, belittle them or humiliate them. Instead, encourage them. Tell them they are brave, because they are. It takes a lot of courage to seek help.

To all of you who are receiving or have received mental treatments, you are BRAVE. You deserve a standing ovation for your courage. You are created for a reason, do not give up! You deserve to shine as brightly as the most expensive diamond one can find.

To YOU, should you feel that your mental health is not in good shape—especially if you actually have thoughts to HARM yourself—please get help! You can see a private psychiatrist first, the same way you might visit a private clinic when you are sick. If your situation is severe and requires more elaborate treatments which you cannot afford or are not insured for, please visit any government clinic and take it from there. The point is, seeking professional help is among the BEST things you can do for yourself.

Lastly, remember that mental health facilities—such as Sentosa Hospital—are nothing to be afraid of. Having mental illness is normal. It is treatable. You can get better. Just stay strong.

These are the places in Kuching where psychiatric help is provided by the government:

1. Hospital Sentosa Kuching (With referral only)
2. Hospital Umum Sarawak (Emergency)
3. Psychiatric Clinic, Hospital Umum Sarawak
4. Klinik Kesihatan Petra Jaya
5. Any Klinik Kesihatan in Kuching (The general practitioner will refer the patient to psychiatrists at Hospital Sentosa or Hospital Umum Sarawak)

(Source: Mental Health Association of Sarawak)

“男生流血不流泪”  – 我想信大家对这句话很熟悉，基本上都是每一个男人的座右铭，感觉上男生不管遇到什么难题都需要硬着头皮熬过去。社会对男性和女性有不同的期望与观念, 让我们总认为女孩是软弱的，她们的哭泣、求助都是可以被接受的; 男孩就应该要勇敢，可以经得起任何考验，哭泣、求助就意味着软弱、没胆量。而我们常常生活在这种观念的强化中而不自知。

小时候，我印象最深刻的就是在我学习骑脚踏车的时候，不小心跌倒了，大哭一场，爸爸对我的第一句话就是“男子汉, 不就是一点伤吗？哭什么哭！” 我呆住了，脸上挂住泪水，不敢出声。身为家里的长子，又有一个年龄与我相差六岁的妹妹，我慢慢地都会有这些”男人不可以流泪“ 或 “男人的责任是要保护女人” 的概念，所以更加逼自己不可以轻易倒下。每当遇到任何困难，无论大小事，我都选择默默承受，无非因为我是”男生“。

渐渐长大，责任越来越多，背负的东西也越来越重。社会的不公、生活的压力、友情或爱情的问题，以上种种都让人难受。三年前，我步入了我人生最低潮的阶段。我突然对任何事情都失去了兴趣，就连区区起床也成为我每一天的挑战。但是，就因为我是“男生”，只要想到我需要接受心理治疗，我就感到莫名的耻感，害怕会被其他朋友取笑我没能力。“明明就是一个大男人，为什么这么弱不禁风？” – 这些荒唐的想法总是在我脑海里徘徊。一直以来都很“坚强”的我，终于有一天忍不住垮了，时常翘课，成绩一落千丈，还差一点要被退学。

在我收到了要被退学的警告信后，我突然领悟了我需要帮助。我下定决心就在隔一天鼓起勇气去见学院的辅导师。我记得那时就是一把鼻涕一把泪地把我所有承受的压力告诉我的辅导师。相信我，那种感觉真好，仿佛一个重重的包袱减轻了。我领悟了其实真正的勇敢是在觉得有需要的时后，懂得寻找/接受帮助。心理上的问题其实和咳嗽感冒是一样的，并没有必要感到羞耻。

其实，无论是男生女生，都会有情绪的波动，都会在生活上遇到一些负性的事件导致悲伤、难过。昨天在Facebook看见了他们分享关于Mental Health For Men让我有很大的感触想要分享我的故事，也很感谢他们提供过了一个这样的知识让更多人可以明白真正的勇敢是什么。如果你也要难过的时候，但是却告诉自己“我是男人，男人不应该流泪”，那请你再告诉自己一件事：“男人不该流泪”这件事是社会强加给你的，若因为有泪而强行压制而成疾是不可取的。每个人都会笑会哭会失落，这都是应该的情绪反应，没有什么大不了的。要记得，真正的勇敢是在坚强的同時，也可以找一个信任的人给予支持，并找机会让压力得到渲洩之口。能对自己坦白，承认自己的情感，并容许自己在低潮时候平衡心理，再reset精神，好让自己可以变得更强壮，走得更远的路！加油！

It all started 9 years back when I was 16 (Form 4). I was in a full science class. I couldn’t cope with my studies and I failed most of my exams. Things got worse when I entered Form 5. Symptoms of depression started showing up. I started to have less attendance to school, feeling sad and down and I even started to withdraw myself from social life. My parents realized something was wrong so they brought me to a private psychiatrist. Since then, I was diagnosed with depression. The doctor prescribed me with some medications and I was given counselling too. At that point of life, I couldn’t accept the fact that I have a mental illness. I felt shame about it because I knew nothing about it and at the same time I am scared of the stigma (of people).

So my first suicide attempt was one day before my SPM exam. I felt really hopeless at that moment because I knew i won’t succeed in my result. It was nearly midnight, After that I called a close friend of mine and told her what had happened. Then she immediately informed my mum and they rushed me to the hospital where I was admitted.

Since then, I started receiving treatment at a government hospital. But the truth is, the recovery journey is not as smooth as what you would think. I had relapses a few more times, trial and error of medications, in and out of a psychiatric ward and regular doctor appointments at the hospital.

What is really important is, don’t give up. I know staying strong is really hard as i have gone through it myself but you have no other choice. Staying strong is the only choice you have. Having lived with depression for so many years, if you asked me how I am doing now, I will not say i have recovered but instead, I slowly started to move forward. What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.

In this era, mental illness is getting more and more common. To everyone: Please be aware if people around you are suffering. Offer them ways to seek help and accompany them in this journey so that they don’t feel lonely. You don’t need to be a professional to help them, sometimes just a pair of listening ears will do. To those who are suffering: Do reach out and get help. There are still people who care about you.

Lastly, I want to share a quote by John Lennon to all of you. “Everything will be okay in the end. If it is not okay, it is not the end.” I hope my sharing can raise mental health awareness to everyone and to support people that are in this journey too. Life is precious and you are not alone!

With love, Priscilla

I grew up in a typical family that doesn’t believe in mental health. I’ve always admired movies from the western culture which they would hug each other and give affirmation of their love, no matter what situation they got themselves into. I asked my mom once before, why we never do things like this? And she brushed me off with, “People angmo mah…” which got me wondered why can’t we do the same? Here’s the thing about my family, my parents are the infamously known “tiger parents”. We were taught to get good grades, be strong and get over with whatever that hits us. Basically, to not be a snowflake because “they had it so much worse and I should be grateful for what I have.” Does this phrase sound familiar to maybe some of you? Hehe

Due to my upbringing, I became someone who have massive problem in trying to express my emotion. I don’t know how to reach out for help, I don’t even know there is a need for me reach out because all of life I have been told to shut down my negative feelings and “get over” it. Suppressing my feelings has become a norm in my life and I never questioned it. Thinking about it now made me realise how unhealthy I was, geez! Anyway, things started to fall downhill when I was studying in Australia. It was my first time away from home and things started to get out of hand. I had a hard time trying to adapt to a new lifestyle and maintaining my grades. Worst of all, my break-up with my 4 years boyfriend came at the worst time. I secretly blamed my parents for sending me to Australia. Believe me, there was a point when I just wanted to end my life because I felt like a disappointment to my family. I just couldn’t cope anymore. My mental state left me feeling broken, weak and worthless.

Thank God I discovered therapy. That was my turning point. Therapy is very common in Australia, almost everyone I know of go for therapy and some of them even view therapy as a chilling chit chat session. During my first few sessions of my therapy, I was a mess. It was hard. Fighting my inner demons and talking about my past was emotionally draining. I’d say it was like opening up a can of worms that I had shut for years and trying to find them new homes. The process of finding them new homes was tough but once they found their home, I was set free! In a way, I was grateful for my mental breakdown because if it wasn’t for it, I would never discover how great therapy can be! Which is also why I titled “Blessing in Disguise.” How I wished I had discovered therapy earlier. How I wished someone have told me that it is okay to express my emotion. How I wished someone have assured me that it is natural to be sad and not be able to get over things.

It is upsetting to see the stigma surrounding mental health or talking about your struggles because “you’re weak” or “crazy” is still prevalent in our society. Nobody ever told me this when I needed to hear so here’s for you: I want you to know that it is very human to break down every once in a while, and talking to someone about your struggle in life is nothing to be ashamed of. You absolutely DON’T HAVE TO, I REPEAT, DON’T HAVE TO, suppress your emotion. Therapy is hard, so the only way to describe you for going to therapy, for seeing help is BRAVE and STRONG! You should embrace it. So please, put your mental and physical health first. Go talk to someone, go for therapy and work on getting to a better place. I promise, you will be alright. Rooting for you! ????

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide

Suicide Prevention Day is the push for me to share this side of my story. I’m a little late to the party but that’s okay because I thought there might be people out there who might need this.

I am currently 28 and it has been 6 years since the day I wanted to end my life. I still think about that night every now and then, there are a lot of “what if’s” scenes playing in my mind. My parents and siblings wouldn’t be able to see me graduate, landing myself my first job and getting into my first relationship. I would’ve missed out my sister’s wedding, getting into my little’s brother first car ride and many sweet blissful memories. I was able to join a volunteer programme in Poland where I was able to teach underprivileged children and meet many people from different culture.

I’ll never forget that day. I felt worthless and hopeless, as if there were nothing for me to look forward anymore. I decided to text a close friend, to indirectly say goodbye in the least suspicious way but who am I kidding? She is my close friend, of course she is going to sense something was off. She called me right away to make sure I was okay, I tried very hard to sound normal so that she doesn’t hear my sobbing voice. I wanted to brush her off so I told her that I was fooling around and I just wanted to get her reaction. Remember I said I was worthless? I couldn’t have been more wrong. She was annoyed at me because she thought I was fooling around, but she assured me that she appreciates me so much and she ended the call with “hey for the last time, never do reckless sh*t and you better live up to 100, I would rather listen to your ugly cry than attending your funeral.” Those are the words that saved my life.

I do have people who loves me. Since then, I surrounded myself with people who keep me away from bad thoughts. I talked to my friends who care. You see, there will be times when there are voices in your head telling you how you are not good enough and that’s okay. Everyone has those days and it’s okay but please remember that there will always be good days. Reach out to someone to talk when those voices invade you because I assure you there will always, ALWAYS, someone out there who would rather listen to you crying than attending your funeral. Last but not least, always look out for friends around you and be kind, your actions and words can definitely determine one’s life.

I hope this short story of mine somehow help you go through your day a little bit! ???? Not to forget, kudos to MHA for providing this platform!

I’m the child that dreads theme parks. I have a secret anxiety booster button installed in me for rollercoaster rides, or anything that makes me feel like I don’t have anything in control. What about those ‘fun’ rides that gives you a death drop from XX ft above ground? Right now, I don’t feel nauseous picturing it because this lockdown has made me feel like I have been stuck to a rollercoaster seat that has not stopped. This is not because the COVID19 lockdown has been going at a quick pace, but it’s a ride that I did not sign up for!

How do I cope on rollercoaster rides?  I cry really loud and just like this pandemic, I have done a lot of emotional release within my four walls. As much as I have expelled emotions, I have also done hours of mental exercise, yoga, therapy and meditation. I have been running a reflection marathon in my own mind, digging up patterns of my past, soothing my inner child that was neglected, identifying behaviours that I need to keep & dump, and recreating a mindset that I want to keep moving forward.

My performance anxiety has constantly belted me for going 20km/hr during this pandemic but I need to remind myself that my identity is not tied down to my career and my labels, it is reflected in the values and beliefs that I uphold and constantly practice. I’m not a polished vase, I have scratches and cracks in my handles and exterior but if I have the chance of seeing light, I want to reflect it onto others too. I need to remind myself each day that it’s okay not to finish the 27 things on my To-Do-List each day and I can take some time off to watch the. clouds come together and then apart.  It has become an opportunity to find what works for me, to calm my mental chatters and I know jogging is not it, but yoga and some old school rom-coms does the magic!

I am very grateful for the friends that I have in my life for showing me great compassion. Despite only having virtual conversations, I have been able to cry, laugh, dance and have insightful chats with my friends through screens.

This pandemic has shaken up communities on a global scale! How many mornings have you woken up to headlines that send throbbing palpitations through your mind? If you need some time off, give yourself that love and embrace to switch off from the influx of news. It’s okay to take care of you from time to time.

This whole lockdown actually triggered my anxiety quite a few times which reminded me the time when I got my first panic attack. I dealt with anxiety for years and I think it started during high school. I was transferred from another school and was placed into this whole new environment. Adapting isn’t really my kind of thing, I had a hard time adjusting.

My result at the time was considered great so I was placed into a class with even smarter people which made me realized I probably wasn’t as great as them. I remember having this constant monologue going in my brain of how bad I was, how I was not able to catch up with them no matter how hard I work. My heart rate raised like crazy whenever the teacher was about to appoint someone for the answers. Even deeply inside I knew I had the right answers but I still get really anxious about being called out.

Back then, I’d never heard of “anxiety” or “panic attack”, which made me feel different? I kept it to myself for the longest I can remember. I considered my anxiety as something or a phase that I had to go through as a teen until my first panic attack. The trigger was because I was anxious about my results and at the same time I received a call from my father that I might I have to stop/defer my academic due to financial issues. I finally talked to my dean about it and she referred me to look for our university counsellor.

That was my very first time in so long talking about the what I had been feeling since I was a teen. I never understand what was going on with me or why I felt the way I did but talking to my counsellor at that time really gave me a big relief and I could finally name what I’d been experiencing.

Anxiety is still a stable constant in my life but talking about it has helped me recognize the process of my mind and become more self-aware. There is nothing to be embarrassed about.

I am so glad MHA provided this platform for people to share. I do wish I had stories to look at when I was a teen!

Depression! The first time I heard this word was when I was a 4th year medical student. We were obliged to go through psychiatric posting and it was my first time encountering depressive patients. As a medical professional, I thought I would be exempted from having the illness. Unfortunately I was wrong. Little did I know that 11 years after, I would be one of the depressive patients.

Gradually I lost the pleasure of doing the things I like. My sleep was disturbed and I constantly woke up every hour throughout the night. Going to work became (s0) demanding that I had to motivate myself every morning. At work, I easily got agitated by even tiny mistakes. When things were not done properly at work, I felt useless and full of guilt.

As a senior MO, I often felt like I failed to guide and teach my juniors and my staff nurses. Due to the heavy workload, most of the time, I felt fatigued and (low) energy. I also lost my appetite which then resulted in a significant weight reduction from 38kg to 34kg.

Despite having all symptoms of depression, I was still unaware of it. It was when I became easily forgetful and I had trouble in concentration then I knew something was not right with me and it was the time for me to seek for professional help. Nevertheless during that time, I thought that I was just experiencing “burn out”, one of the common complications that could occur to anyone with a stressful job like mine.

To go to a psychiatrist instead of a psychologist or a counsellor wasn’t an easy decision for me. Ironically although I myself was a doctor, I was afraid of seeing another doctor, let alone a psychiatrist. I guess I was afraid of the stigma of having to be diagnosed with a mental illness. Most importantly I was afraid of people’s judgement that I would no longer be fit to practice as a doctor once diagnosed with mental illness.

Dr NZ was the name of the psychiatrist whom I first met. Thankfully she wasn’t just a nice and a kind doctor, but a good listener as well. Listening to her soft voice helped reduced my anxiety whenever we talked. Because she was non-judgemental and empathetic, it was easier for me to open up to her.

Based on her evaluation, she told me that I was suffering from double depression, a condition where I have both Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and Persistence Depressive Disorder (PDD) simultaneously. As a result, I require psychopharmacological treatment to eliminate my symptoms. She explained to me that there was a chemical imbalance in my brain which needed to be corrected with antidepressants. According to her, psychotherapy alone was insufficient to treat the symptoms. I was, at the time, able to digest when she said I had depression, however I wasn’t ready to start antidepressants. I didn’t think my depression was severe enough to warrant antidepressants. Therefore when she prescribed antidepressants for me, I refused to take. (Indeed, doctor is the worst patient!!!)

Without antidepressants, my condition remained the same. I was engulfed with sadness  almost everyday. Without any apparent reasons, I could cry out of the blue even while reviewing patients in NICU & PICU during oncalls. I always felt that I was a burden and troublesome to others, thus I continue to hate myself. As a consequence, I preferred to be alone. I isolated myself from my friends and my family; without realising that social withdrawal had made my condition became worst.

During my subsequent visits to the psychiatrist, I told her the truth that I have not been taking the prescribed antidepressants. Upon knowing that, surprisingly she didn’t scold me. Instead she patiently explained to me the complications of untreated clinical depression one by one. It ranges from the increased risk of coronary heart disease due to exposure to continuous stress and unhealthy lifestyle, recurrent infections as a result of weak defense mechanism, risk of cancer due to impaired immune function and damage of DNA repair as well as the loss of higher mental function or cognitive impairment such as dementia. She told me that I fall into severe depression which – on top of psychotherapy – requires the help of antidepressants to recover. Worried about the risk of getting dementia, I finally agreed to take the antidepressants as scheduled.

Even though I only got to meet my psychiatrist a few times, I felt relief knowing that she is trustworthy and dependable. Each time I saw her, I was always truthful so that it would be easier for her to formulate a treatment plan for me. There was no point in hiding something as it could jeopardise my condition. For me, it was important to have a therapeutic relationship with the psychiatrist/therapist since it could drive me into getting better faster.

As I became one of the psychiatric patients myself, I realised that mental illness could hit anyone. While undergoing treatment, I’ve encountered a lawyer, a lecturer, a teacher, a doctor, a medical student, a housewife, etc. When I looked at them, I realised that anybody could become victims of depression. I knew that just like me, it was also not easy for them to see a psychiatrist. Despite that, we bravely pushed ourselves so that we could be happy and healthy again.

I am a frontline healthcare worker and I have encountered anxiety ever since COVID-19 crisis hit our nation. On 23rd March was my first mission in combating COVID-19 along with my colleague. I was in one of the first teams to be called into the field. All I can say is I was not ready. But due to commitment, I have to say yes with a heavy heart.

I was fine during the first week until our line of defence started to fall apart. At this moment all the anxiety symptoms started to come in. I couldn’t reach out to seek help because no one was listening and no one believed me.

I used to be a cheerful and strong person at work and when I said I have experienced anxiety symptoms and have not been able to sleep since the pandemic, no one believed me. Friends, especially colleagues, said I was faking it.

One day I decided to go for counselling therapy and there I had a safe space to let it out. Plus, unexpected friends came to offer help by diverting my worries away. Now I am progressively doing better and I hope I can improve more in dealing with anxiety.