Mindy Barker

Mindy is taking on the 20-hour challenge to support youth mental health and raise awareness about the importance of prevention.

20 hours of silence. A whole lot of perspective.

I'm taking on the 20 Hours for 20Talk Challenge again this year, and I'm hoping to raise $1,000 for youth mental health. Although, between you and me, I'd absolutely love to go beyond that. 🧡

On 5 December, I'll be spending 20 hours sitting in a 2x2 metre square in an isolated location alongside hundreds of other people. No talking, no phones, no technology, no distractions. Just myself, my thoughts and whatever essentials I bring with me.

I did this challenge last year, and it turned out to be one of the most meaningful experiences I've had. I remember sitting there while the rain pitter-pattered on the metal roof and the hum of the city disappeared. I was nervous going into it, fully expecting how challenging it would be for someone like me who can be quite impatient. It was going to be a whole lot of ‘nothing’, after all.

What I didn't expect was how much I'd take away from the experience, or how differently I'd see things when I stepped back into everyday life. After 20 hours with my vocal cords out of commission, nothing but my blanket and journal keeping me company, I came out feeling lighter. Almost like my brain had been given a proper reset.

I'd had the space to sit with my thoughts, feelings and all the uncomfortable things I'd usually find a way to busy myself from. I started asking myself more intentional questions. Why am I feeling this way? Where is this coming from? What do I actually need? I realised how hard I'd been on myself, how much pressure I'd been putting on myself to fit into expectations I'd created, and how little space I'd been giving myself to appreciate the life I'd worked so hard to build.

There was also something incredibly special about being surrounded by hundreds of strangers, all sitting quietly with their own thoughts. Seeing people without their usual social armour gave me a deeper appreciation for vulnerability, connection and empathy.

I came away feeling more grateful, more intentional with my words and attention, and more aware of the little things I'd normally rush past. Of course, I can't attribute every improvement in my mental health to those 20 hours. Life is a lot more complex than that. But the experience gave me a perspective I hadn't realised I'd lost somewhere in the daily grind.

And now, almost a year later, life has gotten busy again. I've found myself thinking about that little square and wanting to carve out the time to return to it.

So, what does this have to do with youth mental health?

One of the biggest things I took away from the experience was how valuable self-awareness is to our wellbeing. Learning to recognise our emotions, understand what affects us, be kinder to ourselves and know when we need support are skills that can make a real difference in how we navigate life. And from first-hand experience, I think everyone deserves to learn those things long before they're struggling to cope.

That's why I believe so strongly in the work 20Talk is doing.

20Talk is an Australian youth mental health charity focused on prevention through education, connection and practical tools. Their Mental Health Maintenance course helps young adults aged 18 to 30 develop skills to better understand and look after their mental wellbeing.

According to 20Talk's 2025 fundraising guide, 92% of course completers felt more confident managing stress and maintaining healthy habits, while 85% reported sustained improvements in their wellbeing.

This year, I'm hoping to raise $1,000, with a personal stretch goal of $3,000. 20Talk estimates that $200 can put one young adult through a one-day Mental Health Maintenance course. That means reaching $1,000 would be the equivalent cost of training five young adults. And at $3,000, that's 15.

I know times are tough, and I genuinely appreciate any amount you're able to contribute. Even sharing this page helps.

I've also written a few more reflections about what happened during those 20 hours, including the people around me, my newfound appreciation for silence, and how strange it felt returning to everyday life afterwards. You can read them below.

Thank you for supporting me and this cause. And as always, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here.

🧡

Mindy

Just a bunch of humans sitting with our own stuff

Twenty hours without speaking to a single stranger, yet somehow getting to know them a little better

One of the most beautiful parts of last year's 20 Hours for 20Talk experience was the people. There was something really special about being in a room full of strangers, all stripped back to just being human.

No job titles, no social status, no carefully curated versions of ourselves. Nobody cared what you did for work, what car you drove or how put together your life looked from the outside. We didn't know. It was a judgment-free zone if I ever saw one.

In the square next to me was a man who looked like Chris Martin's doppelganger doing yoga for what felt like most of the 20 hours. On the other side of the warehouse was someone randomly dancing to music in her head at different hours of the day. Someone else was working out in between journaling and eating. And there I was, watching all of this unfold, knowing absolutely nothing about these people, exchanging smiles and hugs with our eyes.

Everyone looked like a regular human being. Nobody was particularly concerned about looking put together. We were all just trying to get comfortable, keep ourselves occupied and get through the 20 hours. Sitting with our own stuff, doing our best to manage the silence in our squares and whatever chaos might have been going on in our heads.

I found myself wondering about the people around me. What had brought them there? What were they thinking about? What were they going through in their lives? There was no way to know. Until the group journal came around.

There was a notebook being passed around the warehouse. The first page was a message from the 20Talk team, encouraging us to write kind words for our fellow participants, share what the 20 hours meant to us, or really, anything we felt like putting on paper.

Inside was an emotional Narnia.

I found myself reading poetry people had written about the strangers around them, reflections from someone working with young people in the mental health space, a story about losing a friend, and another from someone who was now X years sober. All these lives and experiences, quietly unfolding on the pages of a notebook being passed between people who couldn't speak to one another.

I'd been sitting in that room watching people stretch, dance, eat and nap, with absolutely no idea what some of them were carrying. Reading their words gave me a little glimpse into their worlds, and I found that incredibly moving.

We're so used to forming impressions of people based on what we can see, what they tell us about themselves, or what they choose to show the world. But sitting there, without any of that information, reiterated to me how little we actually know about what someone else might be going through.

There was so much vulnerability in that room, even before the notebook came around. Seeing others let their guards down made it easier to let mine down too. It gave me a deeper sense of empathy for others, but also for myself.

I realised how much energy I'd spent worrying about how I was perceived, whether I was doing enough, achieving enough, being enough. Meanwhile, here we all were, in the clothes we'd slept in, lying on sleeping bags in a warehouse. Just being people.

I've carried that feeling with me since. The reminder that everyone has their own stuff going on, and that there's so much more to people than the versions of themselves we see every day. And perhaps we could all do with being a little gentler with one another, ourselves included.

That's one of the reasons I'm doing the challenge again this December. I'm raising money for 20Talk to help more young adults access mental health education and practical tools for looking after their wellbeing.

If you'd like to support the fundraiser, I'd be incredibly grateful for a donation, no matter the amount. 🧡

Daldal learns to shut up

20 hours of silence taught me a thing or two about knowing when to shut up (although my husband may say I still need practice)

I've always been madaldal ('talkative' in Filipino). And I mean, I can TALK. So you can imagine how strange it was to spend 20 hours in a warehouse where talking was completely off the table. No conversations, no phone calls, no random commentary about whatever happened to be going through my head. Just silence.

I went into the challenge expecting the silence to drive me insane. I'm not exactly known for my patience, and the thought of spending 20 hours with nothing but my own thoughts for company was... interesting. But somewhere along the way, I started getting comfortable with it. So comfortable, in fact, that when I got home, I asked Eric (my husband) if we could have more quiet time. (Imagine his surprise. His madaldal wife voluntarily requesting no-talking hours. 😂 And yes, no-talking hours and even days eventually became a thing in our home.)

One of the things I started noticing was just how often we talk for the sake of talking. You know when you're sitting at dinner, or in the car, and someone feels the need to fill every little gap in the conversation? I started catching myself doing that. Being a me-ma. (Another Filipino expression, short for may masabi lang. Basically, saying something just for the sake of having something to say.) A little comment here, an unnecessary observation there, a random opinion nobody asked for. I was catching myself whenever I did it and it made me wonder how much of what I said was actually worth saying.

During the challenge, whenever I wanted to express something, I had to write it down. Which meant I had to stop and think about what I wanted to say. And sometimes, by the time I'd picked up my pen, I'd realised I didn't really need to say it at all.

Words seemed different when I had to be intentional about them: how much meaning they could carry when I wasn't giving them out willy nilly, and how nice it was to just sit with someone without feeling the need to fill every second with speech.

After the challenge, I found the constant talking a little unsettling to be honest. Which was quite the plot twist for someone who'd spent most of her life being told she talked too much.

I still love a good conversation. I'm still madaldal. Let's not get carried away. But I have a different appreciation for silence now. For listening properly, giving someone the space to finish their thoughts, asking questions because I genuinely want to understand the answer, and knowing when to just enjoy someone's company without saying anything at all. (Really helped with the new job and asking those pinpointing questions!)

I'm curious to see what another 20 hours of silence might teach me. In the meantime, I'm going to try to practise what I've just spent an entire post talking about.

Shutting up. 😂

Although, before I do... if you've enjoyed my ramblings, consider donating to my 20 Hours for 20Talk fundraiser. I'm raising money to help young Aussies access mental health education, and every little bit helps.

You're essentially sponsoring me to shut up for 20 hours. A bargain, really. 🧡 okluvyo

The world was a little too loud when I came back

One of the strangest things about finishing the 20 Hours for 20Talk Challenge last year was switching my phone back on. I'd spent 20 hours without technology, conversations, notifications, music or the usual distractions that fill up my day. And then suddenly, there it all was again. The notifications. The colours. The sounds. The messages. The constant demands for my attention.

It was overwhelming. I remember looking at my phone and feeling like it was harassing me. Which is ridiculous when you think about it. It's a phone. But after 20 hours of quiet, the whole thing felt like absolute chaos.

People were messaging to ask how the challenge went, and I couldn't even bring myself to reply to everyone. I didn't particularly feel like posting about it either. Something about jumping straight back online to talk about how profound the experience had been felt a little disingenuous. I wasn't quite ready to share it with the world in that way. I ended up sharing most of what I'd experienced with my inner circle when we caught up in person, and I think I preferred it that way.

There were other little changes I noticed too. I started making more eye contact with people, smiling at strangers on the tram. I'd find myself just listening to the birds or the murmur of people around me, without feeling the need to put my earphones in. That was the soundtrack of the day.

I started noticing things I'd normally rush past. The small, itty-bitty bits of beauty that are always there, but that I'd become too busy or distracted to appreciate. (I would have missed the double rainbow!) I started questioning how much of my attention I was giving away without really thinking about it. How often was I reaching for my phone out of habit (because that silly game was 'calling' me)? Was I becoming one of those people who felt the need to fill every quiet moment with ‘conversation’ because I didn't know what to do with the silence? How much of my day was I actually present for? Did I even care to remember those little moments, or was I just letting them blur into another generic weekday?

I don't want to pretend I came out of those 20 hours and suddenly became some enlightened person who never scrolls social media or gets overwhelmed by life. I absolutely did NOT (my Township and Two Dots streaks are evidence). Life continued, work got busy (and I started another job too), responsibilities piled up, and my phone went right back to being a needy little rectangle I had a soft spot for…

But something had shifted. I had a better understanding of what I needed to feel more like myself. More quiet. More space to think. More time to appreciate the things and people around me. And a little less pressure to constantly be doing something.

The way I was monitoring my health ring stats, you'd think I was a doctor analysing some very important medical data. I realised I'd become so focused on tracking numbers and looking for things that needed fixing that I'd never really thought to track when I actually felt good, when I felt at peace or when I was genuinely happy with how my day had gone.

We don't really do that, do we? At least, I didn't. I was so used to checking in with myself when something felt wrong that I rarely stopped to acknowledge when things were going well. Note to self: little joys and wins will tell you so much about yourself too, and they deserve your attention.

One of the biggest things I took away from the experience was gratitude. I started recognising that some of the things I'd been complaining about were actually responsibilities that came with the life I'd once wished for. The outcome of a life I’m working really hard to build. That doesn't mean those responsibilities can't be difficult or overwhelming. They still are sometimes. But being able to see them from a different perspective helped.

That's what I miss most about those 20 hours. The space to notice what's going on in my own head, without immediately reaching for something to distract myself. Something I'd somehow convinced myself was 'more important' than giving myself that time.

It's part of why I've signed up to do it again this December. Through the challenge, I'm raising money for 20Talk, a charity helping young adults develop the knowledge and tools to better understand and look after their mental health.

My official fundraising goal is $1,000, although I'd love to stretch that to $3,000. According to 20Talk's fundraising guide, $200 can fund a young adult's place in its one-day Mental Health Maintenance course. So reaching $1,000 would be the equivalent cost of five places, and reaching $3,000 would be the equivalent cost of 15.

If you've made it this far through my reflections, thank you for reading. And thank you for supporting a cause that means a lot to me.

Mindy

[2025] 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!