I chose to study and graduated with a psychology degree in 2017. I learned the theories, the models and the framework. I could tell you about the theories over coffee and I thought that meant I got myself sorted. 

And even if I hadn’t, I would probably have other reasons for such needs anyway. Because here’s the thing nobody would talk enough about back then, most of us don’t seek help the moment we need it. Usually trying to help ourselves first with what we know, we wait. We diminish it. We tell ourselves it’s not that bad, other people have it worse, we should be able to handle this on our own. 

In Singapore especially, there's a particular kind of silence around this. Seeking professional mental health support can still feel like losing face, like announcing to the world that you are not okay, not coping, not the capable put-together person everyone believes you to be. There's the fear of being judged. The shame of needing help at all. And underneath those, something quieter and more tender: the worry that if someone really looks at you and sees all of it, they might decide you are too much. That you are not perfect enough. That you are not loveable enough.

Looking back, that was what kept me circling for years. Not laziness. Not ignorance. Fear of being truly seen, and found wanting.

If you recognise that feeling, you are not alone. The hesitation is not weakness. It's usually the part of you that learned, somewhere along the way, that it wasn't safe to need things. That part deserves gentleness, not judgment.

I was not ready either. For a long time.

The first time professional mental health support entered my world, it wasn't for me. It was for my brother. I referred him to a social worker: someone trained to support people navigating emotional, social, and practical challenges. In Singapore, social workers are often your first point of contact in the public system, working in Family Service Centres, hospitals, and community agencies. They help with everything from crisis intervention to longer-term casework, often bridging the gap between a person and the professional help they might need next.

The social worker my brother saw was warm, dedicated, and genuinely trying. And here's what I learned: no professional, however skilled, can help someone who doesn't believe they need it. My brother wasn't ready, so there was nothing more that could be done. Just like me later on.

There were times when I'd been having intrusive thoughts, the kind where you imagine a car accident happening to you, or wonder what it would feel like to step onto the train tracks. I brushed them off as morbid curiosity. My then-partner wasn’t sure about this and gently suggested I speak to someone. 

We went together to see a psychologist: a professional trained to assess, diagnose, and treat mental health conditions using evidence-based approaches. In Singapore, psychologists are typically registered with the Singapore Psychological Society (SPS), and many can conduct formal psychological assessments alongside therapy.

She was kind. She was thorough. She told me to exercise, manage stress, and lean on my support network. I walked out and told my partner it was a waste of a hundred dollars. I already knew what she was going to say.

What I didn't yet understand was that knowing something and needing to hear it from someone who truly sees you are two entirely different things.

I wasn't ready also. And you cannot shortcut readiness or force it.

Life moved on. I got married and moved to Ireland for work, and threw myself into building something new. I loved it. Then COVID happened, the world contracted, and quietly, without me noticing, so did I.

Working from a cold, dark apartment. Moving less. Seeing people less. Slowly disappearing into myself. The anger arrived first, sharp and disorienting. Then the darker thoughts returned, louder this time. There was a moment behind the wheel when I wanted to crash. My partner was terrified. I still told myself I could manage.

I couldn't.

I went to a local GP. Doctors can screen for depression and prescribe medication, but they aren't trained in psychotherapy. It's medical support, not therapeutic work. I tried a couple of antidepressants. The adjustment period wrecked my sleep and I gave up. Then I tried my company's Employee Assistance Programme (EAP), a short-term counselling benefit many employers offer, usually free and capped at around six sessions. It's a useful starting point, but if you don't know what you need, it's hard to use well.

And then I tried the Samaritans. Not because I had a plan, but because I was exhausted and needed help.

A soft-voiced Irish volunteer called me back. She didn't give me advice. She didn't hand me a worksheet or tell me what i should do. She reflected back everything I had been carrying, quietly, fully, without judgment. Somewhere in that conversation, a question she asked helped me see what I hadn't admitted to myself: my partner wanted a divorce, but hadn't said the word because he was afraid I'd fall apart.

That was the moment I could finally grieve it. Name it. Begin to let it go.

Crisis lines like SOS (Samaritans of Singapore) are staffed by trained volunteer listeners offering emotional support in acute distress. They are not therapists and are not meant for the long term. But sometimes, the right question at the right moment cracks something open that nothing else could reach.

I relocated back to Singapore. New chapter. Same unresolved ache underneath. I pushed hard: rebuilt my fitness, started dating again, kept moving. But I was still crying out of nowhere and couldn't concentrate the way I used to.

I tried EAP again. This time, they told me I wasn't at immediate risk, so they couldn't assign a counsellor. They suggested a life coach instead.

Coaching sits in a different category from therapy entirely. Coaches work with people who are relatively stable and goal-oriented, helping them move forward rather than process what's underneath. Unlike psychologists or counsellors, coaching is an unregulated field in Singapore, anyone can call themselves a coach without formal training. That said, the International Coaching Federation (ICF) is the globally recognised benchmark for professional coaches, and looking for ICF-accredited credentials (ACC, PCC, or MCC) is a reasonable way to check that someone has met a standard of training and ethics. My coach was competent and structured. But six sessions focused entirely on goals felt hollow when I didn't yet understand why I kept arriving at the same place. Somewhere I felt that I needed to know more about myself.

I also reached out to AWARE and touched base with SOS for talking support during harder stretches. They helped in a pinch, but I was beginning to understand I needed something more sustained.

Eventually, I found a counsellor: a professional typically holding a master's in counselling or a related field, registered with the Singapore Association for Counselling (SAC). Counsellors are skilled at supporting people through life challenges, relationships, grief, and stress. Often a good middle ground between a helpline and a full psychological assessment.

But then I felt the fit was off. Something in the dynamic felt amissed and I left the session feeling talked about rather than listened to. And when I went to claim the cost under my company's wellness benefits, I discovered they only reimbursed registered psychologists. Not counsellors.

Frustrating? Absolutely. Accidentally clarifying? Also yes.

I went back to looking for a registered psychologist. That's how I found Annabelle Psychology.

My psychologist there listened the way that Irish volunteer had listened: fully, without rushing to fix anything. She reflected back what I had needed to hear for years. "Janelle, you've been carrying a lot. You are safe now."

I broke down. And I kept going back, still doing so now.

Over time, she began to see patterns and eventually gave language to what I was experiencing: burnout, depression, and an anxious attachment style rooted in early family dynamics. A diagnosis isn't a verdict. It's a map. It tells me where I am so I can figure out how to move.

There's a difference between learning coping strategies and learning about yourself. I had coping strategies from day one. Exercise, breathwork, journalling. I knew them. I used them. They helped, until they didn't.

What my psychologist did differently was help me understand the why underneath: why I kept choosing anxious relationships, why I people-pleased, why I burned out over and over again. She introduced me to frameworks I had studied academically but never applied to myself, like attachment theory, inner child work, and the parts of me that had been running the show without my knowledge since childhood.

There's a version of a psychology textbook and then there's the version where someone holds up a mirror and says, "look, here's where this pattern began in you." That second version changes things in a way no coping strategy ever could.

I also discovered this through a personal development workshop a close friend recommended me to - Miracle Life by Miranda Hung. The kind I rolled my eyes at before attending. It was intense, and may not be suitable for some. There are many programmes like it that calls for transformation and breakthroughs, and people arrive at them and leave them with very different experiences. What I can say is that for me, at that point in my journey, it gave me a push I hadn't been able to give myself. It worked at the level of identity and belief, helping me integrate what I'd learned about myself into how I actually lived day to day. Whether something like this is right for you depends entirely on where you are and what you're ready for.

And then came the things that were never in any textbook I had studied: sound baths that quieted a nervous system I didn't know had been braced for years. Expressive arts, drawing, making, moving, that let emotions out when words couldn't reach them. Somatic movement that shifted what had been frozen long before my mind caught up.

These are not replacements for professional care. But they became the ecosystem that held everything else together.

I want to be honest about something. Even with all of this in front of me, I wouldn't have been ready to use it until I was ready. You can hand someone the perfect map and they still won't move until something shifts inside them.

So this isn't a prescription. It's a reference for the moment you find yourself asking: okay, I think I want to give it a try. Where do I even start?

One thing worth mentioning before you go down the table: some people, especially younger adults, are turning to AI chatbots as a first port of call for mental health support. I understand why. It's available at 3am, it doesn't judge you, and it's free. There is something useful about being able to think out loud without worrying what another person thinks. But what I know from my own journey, and what research increasingly supports, is that healing happens in relationships. Being truly seen and heard by another human being, someone who brings their own lived experience and genuine presence into the room, is not something that can be replicated by a language model. AI tools are only as good as what they were trained on, and they cannot hold you, attune to you, or sit in silence with you in the way that matters. Use them as a sounding board if they help. Don't let them become a substitute for the real authentic experience from a human.

There is no correct order to any of this. No single path that works for everyone. You might start with a helpline and end up in an art therapy session. You might try a coach before you find the right psychologist. You might, like me, need to get it wrong a few times before something finally lands.

What matters is that you keep going.

If you're somewhere on this journey and want to talk about where you are, I'm happy to share more from where I've been. Feel free to reach out.

This post is dedicated to every counsellor, social worker, psychologist, therapist, and coach I have encountered along the way, including the ones who weren't the right fit. The ones who chose this work know what they signed up for: years of training, emotional labour that doesn't clock off, and the quiet, unglamorous act of showing up for person after person after person. Their dedication is not always visible and is rarely celebrated loudly enough. I see it now in a way I couldn't before. We need more of these souls, and the ones who are already here deserve to be recognised. Thank you.

References

• Singapore Psychological Society

• Singapore Association for Counselling

• Art Therapists' Association Singapore

• Samaritans of Singapore

• Annabelle Psychology

• International Coaching Federation Singapore

• Talk Your Heart Out SG: Therapist vs Psychologist in Singapore

• The Conscious Mind SG: Counsellor vs Psychotherapist vs Psychologist

• Psychology Today SG: Psychologist vs Therapist vs Counselor

• CNA Lifestyle: When to Seek Therapy and What to Expect

• CNA Today: Life Coaching vs Therapy

• Her World SG: Career Coach, Life Coach and Therapist

• Life coaching: Help, hype or hustle?

• The Counselling Place SG: Psychotherapist vs Psychologist

• A Space Between SG: Differences Between Mental Health Professionals