Sally Ho
It was eight years after the tragedy when I met the third counsellor who finally helped me feel some relief. For the first time, I began to understand what I was going through—and I thank God for giving me the self-awareness and courage to seek help. Without it, I might have fallen again, alone.
Through meeting different counsellors over the years, I’ve learned that finding the right one is a bit like dating. Our background, values—and even culture—shape how well we connect. This time, I came prepared. I had a checklist in hand. The therapist I chose had trauma training and had studied and worked in the UK. I didn’t want to feel misunderstood again, as I had in the past.
During the sessions, I opened up about my struggles. I felt anxious going to work. I dreaded conversations with colleagues and clients. I was afraid to be home alone. I kept imagining the worst-case scenarios and couldn’t sleep well—I would often wake up in the middle of the night. Even simple things would trigger strong emotional reactions. I couldn’t understand why I felt this way, or why I was reacting so intensely to everyday life.
This therapist gave me a small booklet about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder [PTSD]. As I read it, I finally had a name for what I was experiencing—and more importantly, I realised I wasn’t losing my mind. Growing up, I was taught that tears were only for the dead and that it was normal to endure suffering silently. I was afraid that if I told my parents, they would think I wasn’t normal or force me to see a psychiatrist.
Even simple things would trigger strong emotional reactions. I couldn’t understand why I felt this way, or why I was reacting so intensely to everyday life
Over the next six months, I started to heal, little by little. I was less afraid. I began learning to live in the present. But then, the therapist left the company. I was upset. I even got angry at God. “Why would you take away someone I trust?” I asked. Still, I was stronger than before, and I kept going, thinking I was finally okay. But this wouldn’t be the last time I thought that.
Even though I kept up with daily life, there was still pain inside. I felt guilty whenever I rested. A voice inside me would say, “Are you just using your past as an excuse? You’re just being lazy. You’re not really trying to succeed.” I couldn’t stop pushing myself to always do more.
At that time, I was a lukewarm believer. I often wrestled with God. Nothing in my life seemed to be going smoothly—work, family, relationships. I would cry out to God, “Are you doing this to punish me? Do you take away everything I love so I will follow you? What do you want from me?”
I didn’t realise then that I had a very wrong image of God—as if he were a strict judge or a cold dictator. That couldn’t be further from the truth. These had much to do with the underlying grudge, I had towards God about the tragedy, I only fully came to terms with this sentiment further along the healing journey.
One thing I’ve learned is this: When we are still and quiet enough, we can hear God’s voice. And the journey of learning to listen to him is worth more than anything else in life
Looking back, I thank God for the grace that kept me going to church during those hard times. Every Sunday, I sang in a choir filled with loving Filipino aunties. Even though I didn’t understand the Tagalog hymns, their warmth and kindness touched me deeply. Through their love, God gave me comfort and healing, even when I couldn’t yet explain what I was going through. They gave me a place to rest, to belong, and to feel at home.
One thing I’ve learned is this: When we are still and quiet enough, we can hear God’s voice. And the journey of learning to listen to him is worth more than anything else in life.
Let us pray together:
Loving Father, thank You for placing the right people in my life at the right time—those who helped me carry my burdens even before I knew how to bring them to You. Thank You for Your faithfulness and for the gift of perseverance in seeking You, even when my heart was full of anger and questions. Thank You for taking in all my pain with Your love. Father, bless everyone who is still searching for someone to walk with them through their darkness. May they feel Your presence and healing love. Amen.
