Halloween horror of a different sort….
Six years ago today, on Halloween 2020, I got up and made homemade nasi lemak. The rice had that familiar richness from the santan, still warm and fragrant in the kitchen. I’d made the sambal myself, letting it cook until the smell of chillies and onions filled the house. There were hard-boiled eggs ready to go with it.
It was Halloween, and I was planning to kick off “spooky season” with my then 13-year-old daughter. She came into the kitchen fully dressed, hair done. It was different for her. But I figured she’d done it because she knew we’d be spending the day at home together.
I asked if she wanted some nasi lemak. She said she’d already eaten. Again, different. So I told her we’d get comfortable and put on our first Halloween movie after I ate breakfast. My husband was out of town for work.
Then she left me a goodbye letter
While I was sitting at the table, my daughter put a piece of paper in front of me and left the kitchen. Then I heard the front door close. I turned to look and saw her silhouette through the small window in the door. I opened the paper. It was a goodbye letter.
She said she was going to the roof of our apartment building. There had already been incidents involving kids and apartment rooftops in our area. She said that if she was found, I shouldn’t arrange a funeral because she wasn’t worth it.
I thought for sure it was a prank. But I didn’t hear her come back. I didn’t read the rest. I immediately ran outside and headed upstairs, thinking she had gone to the roof. When I reached the roof access door, I couldn’t get through. It was locked.
I couldn’t get through the door
I could hear her on the other side. I grabbed my phone and called 999. I told the operator that my daughter had left a note and gone onto the roof, and that I couldn’t get through the locked door to reach her.
I stayed there, talking to her through the door while waiting for help. I kept telling her to come back inside. When the police arrived, they were able to get access to the roof.
I found my daughter there, curled up in a ball on her side, with tears streaming down her face. She admitted she’d gone up to the roof because she wanted to disappear, but then couldn’t bring herself to do anything.
She was serious. She really wanted to disappear. I asked her what would make her do something like that. She couldn’t answer.
I handed the letter to one of the police constables. He read it and started talking to her. He was young himself. He told her he understood how she could be sad, but that nothing was worth doing what she was thinking of doing.Before they left the constable told me he’d call me with more information.
A few hours later, he did, telling me that the next step was a psychiatric assessment at a hospital. He stressed that, for legal reasons, it was important to make it clear that this was why we were there. I didn’t understand, but promised I would do so.
We arrived at the hospital, and she was immediately placed under observation. A nurse sat outside the room. I gave the letter to her, and she asked both of us questions.
Then she asked me to leave the room. I was only out for about two minutes when the nurse came out and told me to give my daughter some time to change into her hospital gown, after which I could go back in.
When I went back in, my daughter said she needed to use the bathroom. The woman keeping an eye on her escorted her and told her she had to leave the door slightly ajar. She couldn’t fully close or lock it. For “safety reasons”, she said.
Getting help was only the first step
We were there for hours. The assessment involved a lot of questions, and I don’t remember how long that took. But even after that, we were still waiting because they were trying to find somewhere that could admit her.
We were several months into the COVID-19 pandemic. The adolescent mental health facilities were already full. Adolescents everywhere were experiencing distress. Mine was one of them.
I was asked to sign consent for her to be observed for 72 hours. At least that’s what I think it was. She wasn’t happy when I told her.
I let her know it was standard, and at that point, I couldn’t risk taking her home. When they finally took her to her room, I was left alone for a few moments at last. That’s when I broke down.
The nurse who had been keeping an eye on her put her arms around me and told me I was doing the right thing and that she would be okay.
They ended up keeping her for two weeks.
Since then, there have been therapy sessions, medication appointments, medication adjustments, fights and tears. The anxiety she experienced amid all the changes brought on by the pandemic led to depression. She was later diagnosed with bipolar disorder, with OCD elements.
Six years on, and she’s sort of back
Here’s the surreal part of it all. This morning, Halloween 2026, my daughter woke up and made herself homemade nasi lemak. She’s been stable for several years now. There are still highs and lows. It took us almost a year to find medications that worked. That’s a year I don’t like thinking about. But she copes, and we manage.
Part of that is trusting her. She was cooking. The rice was cooked with santan. There was the sambal and the hard-boiled eggs. I let her boil the water, use the knife and handle things herself.
Then she asked me when we’d start watching Netflix together. She wanted to start with Sherlock Holmes and work her way through what she called the “collection”, including the Enola Holmes movies.
Six years ago, I was sitting at a table eating nasi lemak when my daughter left me a goodbye letter and went to the roof of our apartment building. Six years later, to the day, it is a completely different morning. I don’t think she realises what today’s date means to me. I’m happy that she doesn’t.
Please take this as a reminder to check on your own mental health, as well as the mental health of the people around you. Check on your friends. Check on your family. And find comfort in the things and the people you love.
I’m happy that today, we’ve got a lot of movies to watch instead.
Mental Health Resources in Malaysia
- Befrienders KL (24/7 Emotional Support): Call 03-7627 2929
- MMHA (Malaysian Mental Health Association): Counselling, therapy, support groups
- Relate Malaysia: Affordable online therapy and education
- Klinik Kesihatan (MOH): Government-run clinics with mental health services
- MIASA: Peer support, advocacy, events
- University Counselling Centres: Free for students (check with your uni)
- Talian HEAL (MOH Mental Health Hotline): Dial 15555
Got feelings you don’t know how to handle? You’re not alone and you’re not broken. Start by talking to someone. That’s already a win.
Submit your story to ym.efillaerni@olleh and you may be featured on In Real Life Malaysia.
Read also: ‘I gave up my family to pursue my dreams’ Shares 34 YO M’sian woman – In Real Life
https://inreallife.my/i-gave-up-my-family-to-pursue-my-dreams-shares-34-yo-msian-woman/
‘I gave up my family to pursue my dreams’ Shares 34 YO M’sian woman
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