The ride that changed my perspective on Mental health
Today, I want to share a story that opened my eyes to the quiet battles people fight — a story about empathy and mental health awareness in relationships.
A few years ago, when I was heavily pregnant with my second child, I had to attend several doctor’s appointments. One afternoon, I ordered an Uber to Parklands for one of my checkups. A young man arrived in a white salon car, polite and patient, even waiting when I had to dash back into the house to grab something I had forgotten.
We began our ride quietly. I sat in the back seat, lost in thought about what the doctor might say, when I suddenly noticed the driver swerving recklessly in the middle of the road. Alarmed, I asked him to drive more carefully or drop me off immediately.
He quickly apologized and slowed down — but then I noticed something that stopped me cold. He was crying.
Trying to steady my own nerves, I gently asked if he was okay. That’s when he said something that made my heart ache:
“I’m overwhelmed. I just want to die.”
My heart pounded. Was I sitting in a moving car with someone contemplating suicide? I took a deep breath and softly asked if he was comfortable sharing what was wrong — maybe I could help.
He nodded and began to speak.
“Mimi nashang’aa wanawake hutaka nini (I wonder what women really want). I’m a hardworking man. I love my family and would do anything for my kids. I once had a good job, a car, and even built a house — though all through loans. When COVID hit, I lost everything. The bank took the car, my business collapsed, and I had to start over. I began hiring cars just to continue doing Uber and provide for my family. Life hasn’t been the same, but at least we had food on the table. ”
He paused, wiped his tears, and continued.
“My wife didn’t understand. She started saying I’m useless and told her sister she wanted to leave me. Two days ago, she called asking me about my location and to buy pencils for the kids. When I got home, everything was gone — her clothes, the children’s things, everything. That is when i realized she called to know how far i was so they can leave. She blocked my calls. I went to my kids’ school the following day, and the teacher said she had already transferred them. I feel like I’ve lost everything that matters.”
I sat there speechless, my heart heavy. I told him to stay strong, that maybe his wife just needed time to think. I encouraged him to seek help, to talk to someone instead of suffering in silence. By the time we reached my destination, he seemed calmer — lighter, almost relieved that someone had listened.
That ride changed me. I couldn’t stop thinking about how our words and actions can deeply affect someone’s emotional and mental health. Mental health awareness in relationships isn’t just about noticing depression or anxiety — it’s about kindness, empathy, and communication.
Sometimes, silence or “ghosting” can hurt more than harsh words. When we shut people out, we leave them drowning in confusion and pain. Even if we need distance, a simple act of closure — a call, a message, or a letter — can make all the difference.
I still think about that young man and hope he found peace and healing. His story reminded me that compassion isn’t just something we talk about — it’s something we practice. Kindness, empathy, and communication can literally save a life. Every small act of understanding can help someone hold on a little longer. 💛
