The Sound of SCH: A Mental Breakdown, A Life Journey, is a true story of a journey with mental illness, told by Danielle Lim from a time when she grew up witnessing her uncle's struggle with mental illness, and her mother's difficult role as caregiver.

The story, which takes place between 1961 and 1994, is backdropped by a fast-globalising Singapore where stigmatisation of persons afflicted with mental illness remains deep-seated.

Here, we reproduce an excerpt from the book, where Lim observed how people with mental illnesses were being treated and pondered how they feel in their situation.

The Sound of SCH: A Mental Breakdown, A Life Journey is published by Ethos Books and you can get a copy here.

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By Danielle Lim

Did you ever notice that when you ask a question, you often get a sort-of-an-answer only much later? After the shriveled up bean sprouts incident, I thought a little about Mum’s question: do you know how hard it is if people call you mad? I tried to imagine my rival clique in class calling me ‘mad’.

They were already calling me names like ‘waggy waggy ponytail’, which hurt quite a bit though I couldn’t explain why. It’s true I had a pony tail which ‘wagged’ – wouldn’t your pony tail swing from side to side when you walked, if you had one?

So I guess it was not so much the words themselves, but the spite with which they were uttered, that hurt. I tried to imagine this group of girls calling me ‘mad’ instead of ‘waggywaggy ponytail’, but for some reason, it didn’t work. I suppose there’s only so much you can imagine.

So truth be told, after a while, I forgot all about the question. It is only more than a year later, as I watch a scene unfold before my eyes, that the question comes flying back into my head.

But the mee-pok man doesn't seem like a barking dog; he's just minding his own business

I am having lunch with Mum at a hawker centre. Dad is at work and Chae is still in school – she is now in secondary school so it is usually late afternoon by the time she gets home – so it’s just me and Mum.

Mum orders fishball mee-pok, which is my favourite flat noodle. The noodles are cooked by a middle-aged woman at the stall, after which a middle-aged man carries the bowls to our table on a metal tray. I don’t notice very much about him, until a small commotion is stirred up near to where we are seated.

Another stallholder, a fat man with a loud voice, seems to be angry with the mee-pok man, saying loudly in Hokkien, Why you knock me? You purposely, is it? Sorry lah, accident, the mee-pok man replies in Hokkien.

He doesn’t look at the fat stallholder; he doesn’t look at anyone, just walks slowly back to his stall. The fat stallholder stares at him with a look of disgust, then turns away, jabs his finger into the air in the direction of the mee-pok man, and says loudly, Xiao lang!

He turns to the people seated in front of his stall and tells them, Be careful, don’t go too near him, he’s mad!

Now the people around us start whispering to one another, stealing glances at the mee-pok man like frightened children looking at a barking dog. But the mee-pok man doesn’t seem like a barking dog; he’s just minding his own business, helping his wife or sister serve the bowls of noodles.

He must have heard what the fat stallholder had said, because he doesn’t dare to look at anyone. People nudge each other and talk in hushed tones when he walks near; some even finish their lunch quickly so they can leave.

Now nobody seems to want to order fishball noodles anymore.

Mum has an indignant look on her face. She tells the old couple sharing our table, No need to be scared. I heard he had a nervous breakdown, but I’ve never seen him violent. My own brother had a mental breakdown long ago, but he has never hurt anyone.

People usually leave their bowls and plates on the table when they finish their food and that’s what we usually do too, but when we finish our noodles today, Mum carries the bowls herself to return them to the mee-pok man and the lady.

The lady thanks her, so does the mee-pok man but he doesn’t look at her, he looks down.

As we walk out of the hawker centre, I think of the times I’m called ‘waggy waggy ponytail’ – do I also look down? Come to think of it, yes, I think so.

I suppose if it feels horrible to be called ‘waggy waggy ponytail’ when you do have a ponytail, it must also feel horrible to be called ‘xiao lang’ when you do have a mental illness.

There's really no reason to treat them like that. It hurts them.

Mum takes me by bus to the Toa Payoh Town Centre; she says she has to buy some things from the NTUC supermarket there. As we walk towards the bus stop, I ask her why people are so afraid of those with mental illness. She says that people are afraid they will get violent.

She says, Of course, some do get violent, but most don’t. Even normal people get violent sometimes, you know.

If it’s a stranger and you’re not sure if he or she can be violent, then it’s understandable to keep a distance, but there’s no need to call names and so on.

And, if it’s someone you know, like a neighbour or like the mee-pok man who’s been working at the hawker centre and has never been violent, like your Ah Gu, then there’s really no reason to treat them like that. It hurts them.

Does Ah Gu get treated the way the mee-pok man was treated? I guess so. That’s why he never eats at the coffee shop or hawker centre. When he goes out, he just walks, buys food if he has to and goes home.

Doesn’t he get lonely like that, with no friends? Of course. It’s a very lonely life for him.

Soon, we reach Toa Payoh Town Centre. The weather is hot as usual and I’m delighted to see an ice-cream man with his ice-cream push-cart, selling ice-cream at one corner. He sees Mum and calls out, Chu! Mum smiles and greets him.

So they know each other, and that’s even better because it means I’ll get free ice-cream.

As I stand there relishing my ice-cream, Mum and the ice-cream man stand there chatting. They seem to have known each other for a long time.

How’s Seng? he asks and Mum says, Still the same. She asks him how his wife and children are, and he says they’re okay, the children are in primary school now.

Mum says, Wah, so big already! He laughs. Yah, I must work hard, sometimes hard to earn much selling ice-cream.

As we leave, Mum thrusts a dollar into his hand. He says, No, no need! But Mum insists, No, must! And she pulls me along as she walks away quickly.

But why are people so afraid of those with mental illnesses?

Mum, who’s that?

I’ve known him and his brother too, since we were young. His parents, they looked after me when I was a baby, they adopted me as their god-daughter. So you can say he’s my god-brother.

She grabs a basket at the supermarket entrance and then continues, He had a nervous breakdown about the same time that your Ah Gu had a nervous breakdown.

But he went through treatment early, he went through the electric therapy at Woodbridge, so he was cured. The illness never came back. At least he has his own family now and can lead a normal life.

Not like Ah Gu?

Yah, not like Ah Gu.

How come Ah Ma didn’t let Ah Gu go through the treatment?

Because of fear. And, also, lack of awareness. You see, people have this terrible fear of mental illness and so a terrible fear of Woodbridge Hospital. She had heard and believed horror stories that people spread about having treatment there.

Those people said better to go to the bomohs, they are more powerful, and Ah Ma believed.

But the bomohs didn’t cure him right?

If they did, I wouldn’t have to look after him for more than 20 years.

But why are people so afraid of mental illness?

Maybe because the illness affects the brain and makes a person behave strangely and we know so little about the brain, it is so complex. But people don’t realise that mental illness has a physiological cause, that it is a neurological disorder involving chemical imbalances in the brain.

Now she is talking gibberish and I have no idea what she is talking about. I ask her, What is ‘chemical imbalances’? And ‘physical’ what and ‘nearer’ what?

Neurological means … never mind. Just think of it this way. If your eye is not well, then you should see an eye doctor, like you saw the eye doctor for the stye on your eye, remember? If your spine is not well, then you should see a bone doctor, like Chae is seeing a bone doctor for her scoliosis, right?

So if your brain is not well, then you should see a brain doctor, understand?

Okay.

And can you stop asking so many questions? I’m getting a headache.

Okay.

But how come Ah Gu never complains? About his sickness, about being lonely, about not having family and friends, about having to sweep leaves every day when he could have been a professor?

Mum doesn’t answer my questions; she just continues putting things into our basket, and after a long while, all she says is, Yah, he never complains.

I’m thinking, no wonder he smokes and walks so much. No friends. No wife and children. Luckily he has Ah Ma and Mum. And I suppose, his job.

Go for your holiday, don’t worry about us.

Our family hasn’t gone for a holiday since the weird Wonderland incident. Maybe Mum worries that something similar will happen again or maybe Dad lost too much money gambling, I don’t know.

But now, more than a year later, Dad tells us we’ll be going to Penang for a few days. Again, why Penang I don’t know, maybe Mum decided that there should be no more Wonderland for Dad.

I go with Mum to visit Ah Ma and Ah Gu the day before we leave. We stop at a coffee shop to buy some food along the way and a neighbour who lives at our block of flats greets Mum. He is waiting for his order of food from the same stall.

The stout, balding man tells Mum, The food here is good yah? I come here often with my friends from the PA. Need to reward ourselves with some good food after all the hard work and service, ha!

I say softly, Mum, this uncle works in the PA. That’s where Ah Gu works too right?

I’m not talking to him but he says, Ehh, your uncle works in the PA too? That’s wonderful. We grassroots leaders at the People’s Association have a very important role to play in building our nation you know!

Mum explains to him, Actually, no, my brother works at the Police Academy.

He says, Oh … he’s a police officer then? Hmm, that’s very important work too. Lucky the country has people like us!

Mum says, Um, no, he is a sweeper at the Police Academy.

Huh? Oh, okay, he remarks, after which he starts whistling and doesn’t seem to want to talk much to us anymore.

I want to tell Mum, Mum, you should have told him that Dad is a teacher! But she looks a bit cross so I keep quiet.

We make our way to Ah Ma’s house. Mum looks worried and doesn’t talk much to me. Maybe she’s worrying about what could happen while she’s away.

Come to think of it, what if Ah Gu gets a relapse while she is away? She has been the one taking care of him all these years. Who can Ah Ma get help from if he falls ill? Who would take him to the hospital?

It’s so difficult when you can’t figure out the answers to your questions, like the super difficult problem sums my Math teacher likes to give us. I think for now, I’ll let Mum figure out the answers to her own problems.

I’m happy to see Ah Ma and Ah Gu and I call out to them from the corridor, Ah Ma! Ah Gu! We bought hor fun for you!

Ah Ma and Ah Gu look happy too; they are smiling and I can see Ah Gu’s teeth even more haphazard than before. Ah Gu eats the rice noodles while Mum chats with Ah Ma. I think it must be delicious from the way he’s eating it.

Ah Ma tells Mum, Go for your holiday, don’t worry about us.

So I guess we’re all set for Penang.

Top image from Unsplash.