Why did I create iash.sg?

I didn't, at least not intentionally.

One of our interns asked me a question today.

It was for our social media and to wanted to put together a founder story for our rea.

"Why did you start IASH.Sg?"

And to be honest, I sat with that question for quite a while.

Not because I didn't know the answer.

But because the answer wasn't simple.

I wish I could tell you that I always knew what I wanted to do.

I wish I could tell you that I had some grand vision from the start.

I didn't.

Not even close.

For a long time, I felt completely lost.

I changed university courses multiple times.

Three times to be exact.

Failed them repeatedly.

Spent years trying to figure out where I belonged.

And if you had met me back then, I don't think anyone would have predicted that I would eventually become a psychologist.

I certainly wouldn't have.

Because you see, before I was a psychologist, I was a mental health patient.

That's actually a very important part of the story.

Because sometimes when people see where you are today, they assume there was some straight road that led there.

As though all the pieces naturally fell into place.

But that wasn't my experience.

There were years of confusion.

Years of uncertainty.

Years of feeling like everybody else somehow knew what they were doing except me.

Emptiness too.

And even after discovering psychology, I still didn't imagine this would become my path.

Like many people, I got pulled along by what I thought was expected of me.

Study. Work. Build a career.

Keep going.

It felt like that was what adulthood was supposed to be.

And for a while, I did exactly that.

From the outside, things looked sensible enough.

I was moving forward.

I was achieving things.

I was doing what I thought a responsible adult was supposed to do.

Yet something felt increasingly wrong.

Not obviously wrong.

Just more and more disconnected.

Like I was slowly drifting away from myself.

One thing I remember very clearly was dreading Sundays.

Not because I hated Mondays.

Not because I hated work.

It was something deeper than that.

Sunday evenings felt like another reminder that a week had gone by.

Another week where I still wasn't becoming who I thought I was supposed to become.

Another week where I still felt lost.

There were periods where I struggled with depression.

Periods where I felt deeply alone.

Periods where I genuinely questioned whether I wanted to keep going.

And like many people who struggle, I sought help.

I saw therapists across the years.

Now I want to be careful here.

Because this is not a story about therapy failing.

Therapy helps many people.

I've seen it help many people.

And today, I am a psychologist myself.

But what I can honestly say is that at that point in my life, something still felt missing.

Much of what I encountered felt incredibly clinical at a time when I was searching for something deeply human.

I met competent therapists.

Professional therapists.

Well-trained therapists.

Yet I often left feeling like something hadn't quite reached the part of me that was hurting.

And it took me years to understand why.

Looking back now, I don't think I was only searching for answers.

I think I was searching for connection.

For understanding.

For humanity.

For another person who could sit with me in the messiness of being human.

Someone who wasn't only seeing symptoms.

Someone who could see me.

And that experience stayed with me.

Much longer than I realised.

Because years later, when I found myself building IASH, I noticed that same lesson quietly shaping everything we were doing.

People often ask me what makes IASH different.

And I think part of it comes from that experience.

If you visit our counsellor profiles, you'll notice something unusual.

Many of our counsellors openly share parts of their own stories.

Their struggles.

Their lived experiences.

Their humanity.

And that wasn't an accident.

Not because therapy should become about the therapist.

And certainly not because lived experience replaces professional training.

But because we believe people deserve to know there is a human being sitting across from them.

A real person.

Someone who has struggled too.

Someone who understands what it feels like to be lost.

Someone who understands that healing is rarely neat and tidy.

And I think that belief sits at the heart of everything we do.

But perhaps the biggest thing I was searching for all those years wasn't actually therapy.

It was meaning.

Meaning was something I thought about almost obsessively.

Especially during the difficult years.

Because when you're suffering, it's very hard not to ask:

What's the point of all this?

Why did this happen?

Why am I going through this?

What am I supposed to do with all this pain?

I spent years looking for answers.

Years trying to figure out what my purpose was.

Years believing everyone else had somehow received a map that I never got.

And one of the biggest things I've learned is this:

Meaning is not always something we discover first.

Sometimes it only makes sense looking backwards.

Sometimes we spend years searching for purpose.

And then one day we look back and realise that purpose was quietly forming all along.

Hidden inside the struggles.

Hidden inside the loneliness.

Hidden inside the questions we carried for years.

Many of the things I wanted to build were things I had once needed myself.

Connection.

Belonging.

A safe place to talk.

People who understood.

Community.

The opportunity to be vulnerable without being judged.

And slowly something started to shift.

And perhaps that's where meaning began to emerge.

Turning pain into purpose.

Turning loneliness into connection.

Turning the things we needed into things we can offer others.

Looking back, I think that's what IASH became for me.

Not a business.

Not a career move.

Not a master plan.

But a response.

A response to years of searching.

Years of loneliness.

Years of wondering where I belonged.

We started with peer support.

Then events.

Then counselling.

Then community.

And underneath all of it was the same hope.

That people would not have to struggle alone.

That they would find places where they could be honest.

That they would find people who understood.

That they would find connection.

Because I know how much those things matter.

I know because I spent years searching for them myself.

And if you're listening to this today and you're still searching for your own sense of meaning, I want you to know something.

I don't think there's anything wrong with you.

I don't think you're behind.

And I don't think you're lost forever.

Sometimes purpose takes time.

Sometimes meaning only reveals itself years later.

Sometimes the clues are hidden in the things that move us.

The things that hurt us.

The things we keep returning to.

The things we wish had existed when we needed them most.

So if you're still searching, keep going.

Keep listening.

Keep paying attention.

You may be much closer than you realise.

I know it can feel impossibly far away sometimes.

But I know you'll get there too.

Take care,

Hernping

P. S. Visit www.iash.sg if you're looking for for a safe place where real humans exist too okay?

I'll always be here too :)