From Trauma to Healing: The Story Behind a Cat-Themed Brand (Part I)

Recently, I had a few meaningful conversations with women who represent exactly the kind of customers I hope to reach with my cat-themed clothing brand. As we chatted about the brand’s vision, one question kept coming up:

“What’s the connection between cats and mental health?”

So, I shared my story.

I was born into a family shaped by mental illness. When I was just two months old, my mother experienced her first episode of schizophrenia. My father, overwhelmed by the demands of caring for a sick wife, a newborn baby, and a ten-year-old son, couldn’t manage on his own. So my grandmother stepped in and brought the three of us—my mom, brother, and me—into her home.

I spent the first three years of my life with my grandma. Then, my mom, my brother, and I moved back in with my father.

Before I turned five, my mother was hospitalized three times. I have very few memories of her during those early years.

Life felt relatively carefree for a while—until I was eight. That’s when my parents and I moved to my mother’s hometown, the third-largest city in China. From that moment on, everything began to change.

The first blow was the move itself. I had grown up in a small town where everyone knew each other. Suddenly, I was in a big city where even the next-door neighbors were strangers. I felt lonely and missed the warmth and familiarity of my old town terribly.

The second blow was even more damaging—and it left a lasting impact on my mental health.

When I was in second and third grade, I was taught by two male teachers whose behavior crossed serious boundaries. I was also repeatedly approached and harassed by strangers on the street during my elementary school years. I lost count of how many times it happened.

I never told anyone.

After that, I began to withdraw. I stopped trusting people and started keeping my distance—emotionally, socially, and physically.

Because of my mom’s unpredictable temper—fueled by her illness—and my dad’s deeply self-centered nature, our home was a constant emotional battlefield. Some days were filled with shouting matches. Other times, there were weeks of icy silence between them. Either way, it was exhausting. I grew up resenting my family and the tension that never seemed to leave our home.

My life felt miserable—until I met my future husband in high school. He brought light into my world and gave me hope. For the first time, I felt seen and safe. During our dating years, life was beautiful. I finally had something to look forward to.

Then I moved to the United States.

(Thank you for taking the time to read Part I of my story. If it resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts—or simply know that you’re out there. Stay tuned for Part II, where I share how life unfolded after I landed in the U.S., and how a quiet rescue cat named Mitty inspired something unexpected.)

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