Brian Zhang

Sometimes you just have to turn off the music to listen

Hi everyone! 

Welcome to my first blog post. To start off, I want to say thank you for contributing to my fundraising page, and also for being a part of 20hoursfor20talk. This charity means so much to me and after missing out in 2024 and 2025, I've finally been able to clear my schedule to join in 2026. 

My first blog is going to dive into a bit of my backstory with my mental health struggles. I hope you enjoy reading it!

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I’ve never really been able to sit still.

Sometimes I’m watching a movie with my girlfriend and I’m already thinking about how long is left.

Sometimes I’m halfway through dinner, busting to pee, but I refuse to get up because I need to finish the meal.

Then there are the situations where you absolutely cannot move—like when you’re watching the cricket and someone’s on 99. You don’t shift. You don’t breathe. You don’t even think about moving, just in case.

On the outside, I can look calm. Relaxed. Like I’ve got everything under control.

But it’s not my body I’m fighting.

It’s my mind.

I was first diagnosed with depression and anxiety when I was 17.

And almost instantly, I felt ashamed of it.

Part of that came from the expectations I put on myself. But a big part of it came from the world I grew up in.

This was 2015. Mental health awareness wasn’t what it is now, and the male role models in my life all carried the same message—be tough, don’t show emotion.

I never saw my dad cry.

My coaches talked about toughness like it was the most important trait you could have.

My mates didn’t really open up either. And when they did, it usually ended with, “I just have to get on with it.”

So I did what I thought I was supposed to do.

I hid it.

I didn’t tell anyone about my depression.

Whenever negative thoughts crept in, I’d try to block them out. Ignore them. Push them down.

I got very good at it.

I could hide it in public. I could hide it at home. Even when I was alone and felt like crying, I’d stop myself.

I did that for close to a decade.

And eventually, that catches up with you.

All that pain you keep pushing down doesn’t disappear. It builds.

For me, it came crashing down at the end of 2024.

I had my first seizure in November.

Then another one two months later, in January 2025.

My body just… gave out.

I was lucky. Both times, someone was there to help me and get me to hospital.

But it was a wake-up call I couldn’t ignore anymore.

The strange part is, during all of this, I was the one telling other people to open up.

To be vulnerable. To talk about what they were going through.

I just never learnt how to do it myself.

Since the start of 2025, I’ve been trying to change that.

I’ve had more honest conversations with my friends.

Long, sometimes uncomfortable talks with my girlfriend.

I’ve started journalling regularly.

And I’ve shared more of my experiences through my newsletter and YouTube.

Funnily enough, writing was the first step.

Being able to spill everything out onto a page—without having to say it out loud—gave me a sense of relief I hadn’t felt before.

There are journal entries where I’ve written about past trauma, about feeling completely hopeless, about times where I thought about ending my life.

But getting those thoughts out of my head and onto paper made them feel a little less heavy.

And slowly, that made it easier to say those same words out loud.

I started going to therapy as well.

It’s helped me understand what I’m going through, set boundaries, and communicate that to the people around me.

But the biggest shift for me has been this:

I’ve stopped trying to solve everything straight away.

When I was first diagnosed, all I wanted was a fix. A way to get rid of depression as quickly as possible.

That only made things worse.

Now I understand that opening up—whether it’s journalling or talking to someone—isn’t about finding an immediate answer.

It’s about acknowledging what you’re feeling.

Letting it out.

Not carrying it all on your own.

That’s what I want people—especially young men—to take from this.

You don’t have to have it all figured out.

You don’t have to be tough all the time.

You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.

If my story helps even one person feel a little more comfortable opening up, then it’s worth it.

And that’s why I’m supporting 20Talk.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and for supporting my fundraising page.

Every contribution goes towards helping spread mental health awareness and encouraging more people to speak up, have these conversations, and feel okay doing it.

20 Hours of Silence for Youth Mental Health.

I’m taking on the 20 Hours for 20Talk Challenge which will see me sitting in a 2×2 metre square in a warehouse, alongside 400 other participants, with no talking and no technology for 20 hours. All I’ll have are the essentials I bring with me: a chair, sleeping mat, journal, water, and food. No distractions.

This challenge is a small glimpse into the isolation and struggle that someone with mental health challenges might feel every day. I know it will be tough - physically, mentally, and emotionally - but it’s a challenge I’m taking on to stand in solidarity with those navigating these experiences.

So why am I doing this?
We have all been touched in some way by the reality of mental health. It can be dark, lonely, and confronting.

Structurally, the statistics are still alarming:
- Suicide remains the leading cause of death for young people aged 15-44.
- Only 2% of mental health funding goes towards prevention (Mental Health Commission 2022).

I’m completing the 20 Hours for 20Talk Challenge to help turn these statistics around. Your contribution goes towards 20Talk’s relatable prevention campaigns. They are a mental health charity that makes education cool and accessible, for young people by young people. Your generous donations go towards:

- Every $120 puts a young person through a one-day Mental Health Maintenance course
- Expanding 20Talk’s online resources and 60,000+ social media community
- Running large-scale interactive mental health events'

What is Mental Health Maintenance?
Mental Health Maintence (MHM) is a free, one-day workshop designed with industry experts to help individuals better understand and engage with different areas of their wellbeing, as well as learn effective ways to monitor them. MHM is designed to support people by equippig them with the knowledge and tools to maintai their mental wellbeing before reaching crisis point. By improving mental health literacy, removing harmful stigma, and encouraging professional help-seeking, this workshop hopes to prevent people from reaching crisis in the first place. To learn more, please visit www.20talk.com.au.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and for donating to the cause. Hopefully this small challenge can help change someone’s life.
If you ever need to chat, I’m always here. Love you all and thanks again!