It grieved me to read a recent news report of a Coroner’s Inquiry into the deaths of a woman and her son last November. 

Nami Ogata, who suffered from major depressive disorder, had strangled her five-year-old boy to death in their flat before driving his body to a secluded area near Bukit Timah Nature Reserve and stabbing herself to death.

I was further pained to read two weeks later of another woman and her five-week-old daughter being found dead at the foot of the block of flats in Bedok where they lived. 

It is unclear what led to their deaths and police investigations are ongoing.

Reading these two reports compel me to share my own struggle with what life has dealt me and how I found hope where there seemed to be none left.

The truth is, sometimes we think we are surrounded only by gloom and there is no way out. But if we take a step back, then the reality may not be harsh after all.

When my beloved mum tragically passed away when I was 19 years old and when I became mentally ill at 24 years old, I felt as though love and hope had been ruthlessly wrung away from me. 

MY MOTHER WAS MY WORLD

At birth, I was diagnosed with brittle bone disease, a genetic disorder that causes bones to break easily. As a result, I suffered frequent fractures and needed hospitalisation.

I spent five years of my childhood in a children’s hospital, without the close support and love of my family.

My mum visited me once a week because of the long distance between our home and the hospital. My dad visited me once a month due to his work and travel.   

I lost my mum to kidney cancer while I was taking my GCE A-Levels in 1994.

She had told my family to hide her condition from me because her dream was to see me go to university and find a job to support myself.

She did not want me to be distracted by her illness. It was only on the day she died that I knew the truth. All along, I thought it was just a benign tumour.

She had tears at the corner of her eyes and lay in a pool of blood on the hospital bed. She was only 49 years old.

I could imagine that she might have been thinking about me at her last breath because she had been my primary caregiver for seven years after I was discharged from the hospital when I was 12 years old.  

I was her greatest worry but also brought her immense joy.

No one told me anything about how to handle grief. I felt guilty, angry and betrayed that I did not know the truth about her terminal condition.

I thought I was unfilial because I was not there for my mum when she most needed me. Why was her life not deemed as more important than a national examination?

Five years later, at 24, I left home when my dad remarried a woman who was younger than me.

It was then that I started to have panic attacks, did not sleep for two weeks and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

A few years later, I attempted suicide by swallowing half a bottle of lithium tablets.

I foolishly thought dying would solve my problems given how I woke up every morning questioning the meaning and purpose of life. 

I still could not come to grips with my mum’s sudden death, even though it had been almost a decade since she passed on.

She was my world and my world collapsed when she died.

As I lay in the Intensive Care Unit after my failed suicide attempt, I saw the tears of my family members as they gathered around me.

It was a revelation to me that this life is not my own.

I have always expected my family members to love me in the same way as my mum did. When they could not because they express love in different ways, I thought that they did not love me. 

It made me wonder, would those who had committed suicide still have taken their own lives if they had seen the tears of their loved ones?

How can family members be enabled to help the distressed know that they care, even though family members often feel helpless and suffer burnout themselves?

The author in her mid-teens with her parents.   Photo courtesy of Serene Ho 

After I embraced the Christian faith at age 31, I found meaning and purpose in life.

I realised that joy is not found in accumulating things but in sharing what I have with the people around me. I found support and love in the church community.

I gained strength and hope in difficult circumstances because now I know that these circumstances are temporary but the lessons learnt in life are permanent.

I also reconciled with my past and became more empathetic. This shift to focus on living day by day rather than worrying too much about the future helps me keep negative thoughts away.

As a private educator for two decades, my rich life experiences have allowed me to share life-giving words with the young and to guide them through the storms of life.

All of us need someone to provide counsel when we feel lost. Now I can be that wise counsel to others.

These days, I am careful of what I think about. I choose to stop replaying the death scene of my mum whenever I feel alone.

I also choose to forgive my family members with whom I had been upset.

I learn to accept that I cannot control every aspect of my life.

Now I no longer need to strive to be a perfectionist but can find joy in the simplicity of life.

I also learn to treasure the lives of others.

Two years ago, my teenage step-sister got pregnant and there was strong pressure from our family and the father of the child for her to abort the baby.

I stood with her to keep her unborn child.

She has embraced her motherhood because of the help and support from friends and volunteers in the community.

Every life is precious, no matter the circumstances.

I now look forward to contributing back to the society through the Youth Mental Well-being Network launched by the Government in February.

The network harnesses the energy and experience of the diverse members to put in place initiatives that better support and enhance youth mental well-being. I hope to be a role model for children and youths.

When it seems as though love and hope have been ruthlessly wrought away from us, it is important to remember that hope does not disappoint; because when we hold on to life, we hold on to a gift of love. 

Mental well-being depends on everyone because mental illness does not discriminate.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Serene Ho, 45, is a private tutor.