Sometimes the heaviest battles are the ones no one sees. On the outside, you may look fine—smiling, showing up, doing what is expected but on the inside, you are carrying a storm that no one even knows exists. That was me.
My struggles with mental health began back in secondary school when I was the head girl. With that position came an immense pressure to excel academically and be the perfect example to my peers. I spent countless nights studying, often sacrificing sleep, especially during exam periods. Yet, despite my efforts, I was frequently bullied because of my calm nature, which made it difficult for me to speak up for myself. My only defense was my academic performance.
One day, I was chosen to represent my school in a debate competition. I was both devastated and grateful for the opportunity. I prepared tirelessly—rehearsing my 30-minute speech every day with my siblings, teachers, and classmates. But when the day of the debate finally came, the large crowd and the presence of students from other schools overwhelmed me. Self-doubt crept in like a shadow, and I began to question my abilities.
Backstage, my proprietress tried to calm me down, but fear had already gripped my entire body. When it was my turn, I managed to walk up, introduce myself, and grasp the microphone. But after a brief pause, all I could whisper was: “I can’t do it.” The microphone slipped from my hands, and I ran off the stage in embarrassment.
I remember running aimlessly until I found myself in front of a shop. I curled up, holding my legs close to my chest, trembling and drowning in sadness. Everything I had believed about myself felt shattered. What would people say about me? The thought wouldn’t leave my head. My heart was engraved with shame, and I couldn’t dismiss the flood of negative thoughts. I cried uncontrollably until my proprietress finally found me.
When I got home, my siblings surrounded me with care, reminding me that everything would be okay. Still, the aftermath was hard. I stayed away from school for days, and when I finally returned, the whispers and stares of classmates felt unbearable. I felt like I had hit rock bottom. The thought of dying seemed like an escape. I self-harmed for days and even attempted to take my life, but my siblings intervened and carried me through that darkness. With the help of my sisters and proprietress, I managed to recover and continue serving as head girl. Yet, even now, three years later, that memory still lingers—and it has taken all this time to talk about it openly.
Even after overcoming that incident in secondary school, depression still followed me. Some days, it feels like a heavy weight pressing down on me, and often, I cannot even explain why. The loneliness can be suffocating. Sometimes, I feel invisible, unloved, and helpless, as though I am just moving through life without truly living. Some of those days, I have harmed myself just to cope with the pain I couldn’t put into words.
Still, I am learning. I am trying to be kinder to myself, to accept that it is okay to not be okay, even though it hurts. I crave reassurance, hope, and love. And though the journey is not easy, I am holding on.
If you are struggling with similar feelings, please know this: you are not alone.
This story was shared anonymously with Campus Cares and is published with permission. As we mark World Suicide Prevention Month, please remember — you are not alone in your struggles. It’s okay to speak up, seek help, and lean on others. You are seen, you are loved, and you matter.