Why Didn’t He Feel Safe Enough to Stay?

That question has stayed with me for years. It still makes me wince.

In 2018, I lost a loved one to suicide. He hung himself without leaving a word, at least not one that we know of. At his wake, I saw so many different versions of him through the stories others shared. And yet, there was a thread that ran through every story: he was loved, he was kind, he cared deeply, he was always there for people who were hurting.

I was always in awe of the work he did, though quietly afraid I could never handle it myself. But after his death, something shifted in me. My journey became clearer. Boundaries became easier. I learnt and became more committed to being available—more present, more attuned to the quiet signals of pain in others.

Still, the paradox haunts me: how could someone who gave so much love away feel he had no safe space for his own pain?

And it makes me think of the world we live in, especially here in Singapore. A world that celebrates resilience, achievement, and strength. But what if strength has come to mean silence? What if vulnerability feels like weakness? What if our young people, our friends, our colleagues—all those who appear fine—are hiding battles they think no one will understand?

I see it in students who study through exhaustion because slowing down feels dangerous. I see it in professionals who wear burnout like a badge of honour. I see it in parents who swallow their struggles because they think they have to stay strong for their families.

We need to be more available. We need to listen better. Not with quick fixes or advice, but with presence. With patience. With love.

As you read this, please take a moment to think: Who in your life might need to hear these words today?

"Hey, you are not alone. I see you, and I am here."

💙 If you are struggling, please know you are not alone. Help is here. Hope is here. You are worth every page of your story. 💙

#MentalHealthMatters #YouAreNotAlone #ListenWithCompassion #ListenWithYourHeart