Beyond the Silence-My Journey Living with a Mental Health Condition in Kenya

May is recognized globally as Mental Health Awareness Month—a time set aside to encourage open conversations about mental health and to reduce the stigma that still surrounds it. For me, it is also a quiet reminder of my own journey, and how learning to understand my mental health has shaped the way I see myself and the world around me.

Living with a mental health condition has been one of the most personal, confusing, and quietly transformative experiences of my life.

I did not always have language for what I was experiencing. For as long as I can remember—since I was young—I carried a lot internally. Stress that did not fully go away. Anxiety that lingered even when things looked normal. Periods of deep sadness that I could not explain to anyone, so I learned to function through them in silence.

But everything changed when I was 25.

It was not one single moment that defined it. It was more like a gradual shift—my thoughts becoming heavier, my ability to concentrate becoming unstable, and my perception of reality feeling unfamiliar at times. I knew something was wrong, but I could not explain it in a way that made sense to others or even to myself.

Eventually, I was admitted after experiencing symptoms of psychosis.

That moment did not feel like an ending. In a strange way, it felt like clarity. For the first time, what I was going through had a name. That did not solve everything, but it gave me a place to start. It helped me understand that I was not simply “losing control,” but dealing with something that could be understood and treated.

But what followed outside the hospital was an entirely different experience.

Because in real life, mental health is not only medical—it is deeply social.

I quickly learned how difficult it is for people to talk about mental health openly. In many conversations, there is hesitation or silence. Some people are unsure what to say. Others suggest keeping it private, as though speaking about it makes it more dangerous than the condition itself.

And slowly, I began to understand stigma in a very real way.

People often respond to what they do not understand by labelling it. Words like “dramatic,” “unstable,” or “attention-seeking” are used too quickly, without understanding a person’s lived experience. Once that label is placed on you, everything you say or do can be interpreted through it.

In many Kenyan contexts, mental health is still shaped by deep cultural beliefs. Strength is often associated with silence and endurance. People are expected to push through challenges without necessarily speaking about them. As a result, mental health struggles are sometimes misinterpreted as personal weakness rather than health conditions.

I have also encountered long-standing myths that continue to shape perception. Some people still believe mental illness is not real, or that someone can simply “snap out of it” through willpower alone. Others associate visible mental illness with curses, spiritual punishment, or witchcraft—especially when they see individuals who appear unwell in public spaces. These beliefs persist not because people lack intelligence, but because there is still limited understanding and exposure.

One of the most important lessons I have learned is that mental health conditions are real health conditions that require proper medical attention.

For me, seeing a psychiatrist gave me clarity that informal advice and assumptions could not. It helped me understand what I was experiencing in a structured, clinical way, and it opened the door to treatment and support. That step played a significant role in my journey.

I have also learned that seeking professional help is not a sign of weakness. It is a responsible and necessary step toward stability and understanding. In some cases, exploring formal recognition such as disability registration can also help individuals access support systems that make daily functioning easier and more inclusive.

But even with support, I have had to accept one difficult truth:

Society does not always respond with understanding.

People may still misunderstand mental health conditions. They may still hold onto stereotypes or fear what they do not understand. Some may distance themselves entirely. Others may reduce your entire identity to your diagnosis.

That part is not easy.

But it does not change what is true.

Mental health conditions are not moral failures. They are not signs of weakness. They are human health conditions that deserve care, compassion, and understanding.

What this journey has taught me is that healing is not only about treatment—it is also about learning to exist in a world that may not always understand you fully. It is about finding strength not in silence, but in truth.

And if there is one thing I would want someone reading this to take away, especially in our context, it is this: do not suffer in silence because of fear or stigma. Seek help. Speak to qualified professionals. Allow yourself to be supported without shame.

Because while people may always have opinions, your mind, your health, and your life are real—and they matter.