During September in Australia, we have Wellbeing Week, which is closely connected to the work I do and to something I am deeply passionate about: creating spaces where people feel safe to talk about their mental health and the emotional loads they carry. I have seen many people avoid asking for help because they don't want to “bother” anyone with their problems, and I recognise that feeling because I have been that person too. I feel incredibly grateful to live in a country where conversations about mental health are becoming more open and where, despite the gaps that still exist, there are services and supports available to people when they need them. It was only recently that I realised Wellbeing Week coincides with Heartprint's Silent September, and the connection feels particularly meaningful to me.

Now imagine facing mental health challenges in a country that has lived through war and continues to experience intergenerational trauma, where stigma around mental health remains strong and where many families are struggling to meet their most basic needs, such as food, shelter and access to clean water. Imagine having no government mental health services to turn to and instead relying heavily on organisations and NGOs for support. This is why Heartprint's work matters so much to me. Through programs such as its Wellbeing Officer, All Minds Matter, Circle of Strength and Fighting the Monster, Heartprint creates opportunities for children, young people and families in Cambodia to be heard, supported and connected with the help they need. Silent September raises funds to make these programs possible. By choosing to be silent, we are standing alongside people whose voices can so easily go unheard.

This year's Silent September is particularly personal for me because I have recently experienced how important it is to have the right support around you when life becomes overwhelming. Two months ago, our little family of two became a family of three when Rori, our puppy, joined Lola and me. For those two months, she brought so much joy into our home. She made me laugh, kept me active, greeted me with excitement every time I walked into a room, and shared in our everyday moments, from sadness and excitement to our enthusiasm during the Soccer World Cup. We had plans for the three of us and imagined all the things we would do together. Sadly, Rori was involved in an accident, and her life was much shorter than we ever expected. Losing her had an enormous impact on my mental health and wellbeing.

What made a profound difference during that time was the support available to me. I was fortunate to have a workplace that understood grief and gave me the time and flexibility I needed to recover and gradually return to work. I had wonderful friends who checked in on me while also respecting the moments when I needed silence and solitude. I was given information about services I could contact if I needed someone to talk to, including a pet-loss grief line. Having those options available did not make my grief disappear, and it doesn't mean I am “over” it. My grief continues and will probably continue for some time. But I have been incredibly fortunate to have support around me when I needed it most. Silent September is my way of helping create some of those opportunities for people who are not as fortunate. On the 16^th of September, I will take my silence vow from 2pm until 6am the following morning, standing in solidarity with people who may be carrying enormous emotional burdens without access to the support I was able to receive.

I have been a proud member of the Silent September Army on many occasions, and this year I am joining once again with an even greater sense of purpose. If you are able to donate, I would be incredibly grateful. If you cannot donate, sharing my fundraising page can make just as much of a difference by helping this message reach someone who can. Together, we can use our silence to raise a voice for those who need to be heard.