Carrying 2025 Into 2026
This is a belated reflection post for the year 2025. It’s slightly out of time (not gonna bring out excuses, because excuses are what they are: excuses, hehe 😆), but it’s still never too late.
No matter how busy life gets, a yearly reflection is the bare minimum I keep as a goal for myself for this blog. Life can get in the way, but this blog will always stay... throughout the ages, perhaps into my 80s (if I live to that age), or at least that’s what I hope. And perhaps, someone, somewhere, will stumble across my blog someday and turn it into a book about my life’s biography *fantasizes*. If there comes a time or an age when I lose interest and slowly withdraw from social media, I hope this place will still be a constant space for expression and connection.
This reflection is divided into a few parts. They’re not everything, but they’re the things that stayed with me the most in the year 2025.
Since getting married, I’ve realized that my husband’s greatest love for me is his willingness to journey with my family, especially when our backgrounds are so different and communication isn’t always easy (he doesn’t speak good English, my family doesn’t speak good Mandarin, and my doggies only speak Doggish 😂). His patience and care make it truly remarkable. Each time we return to Seremban, I see him cooking with my mum in the kitchen, gardening with her at the front porch, taking my dad’s baby Candy for walks, going out for breakfast with my dad, and sometimes even tackling plumbing or repainting jobs around the house. Each time, my love for him grows deeper and deeper. I have to admit, if our roles were reversed, I could not even do half of what he does for my family. It's about the love, patience and effort that go into truly connecting with someone else's family. That willingness to step into a space that isn't naturally comfortable for him (different habits, language, thinking). That's a profound kind of love. What really moves me is that love can show itself in small, consistent actions, and caring even when it’s inconvenient. It’s in these everyday moments like cooking, gardening, walking the dog, fixing things around the house that true love reveals itself. Watching him do all this for my family makes me grateful, humbled, and inspired to love as deeply in return.
In Malaysia, pets are not automatically banned in stratified properties such as condos and apartments. By‑Law 14 in the Third Schedule of the Strata Management (Maintenance & Management) Regulations 2015 allows residents to keep pets as long as they do not cause nuisance, danger, or violate local laws and council rules. However, many condo management committees interpret their house rules as “no pets allowed,” and individual local councils have different restrictions. For example, DBKL permits certain small breed dogs in high-rise buildings, whereas MBJB does not allow pet dogs at all in strata/condominum. The question here is: why do local council pet rules (which govern a city) sometimes appear to contradict the Strata Management Act (which governs all of Malaysia)? Local council pet laws and condo management rules should be consistent with the Strata Management Act, because the Act sets the national baseline for strata living, including pets. Pet lovers are doing all they can to advocate for a change in the law. Recently, a Malaysian Olympian, Noraseela Mohd Khalid, filed a lawsuit against the Selangor government and the Petaling Jaya City Council (MBPJ) challenging a blanket ban on keeping dogs in high‑rise residential units. It's a first in Malaysia’s history. She did what many of us have wanted to do but have been afraid to attempt. The suit argues that the by‑law prohibiting dogs above the ground floor in high‑rise properties conflicts with federal law, including the Local Government Act 1976 and the Strata Management Act, and unfairly restricts responsible pet owners. She has all my full support and respect. My influence and power may be small, but I still try to make small changes, one step at a time. If you're interested in seeing a change in pet laws in Malaysia like I am, you can start by emailing your local council every month, urging them to revisit and improve pet regulations in high-rise housing. It's a simple action, but collective voices can push for change.
In Singapore’s public housing (HDB flats), pet dogs are allowed under specific rules. HDB allows one dog per flat, but it must be an approved small breed listed under the Housing and Development (Animals) Rules. There’s a specific list of approved small dog breeds that HDB residents can keep, and the dog must meet size and temperament requirements. Singapore also runs Project ADORE (ADOption and REhoming of dogs), which lets HDB residents adopt local mixed‑breed dogs typically up to about 55 cm at the shoulder. With such a good example right next door, what is keeping Malaysia from implementing the exact same approach? Lingering cultural or religious perceptions? Lack of awareness? Lack of education on pet welfare in schools? Conflicting opinions about pets in urban living? Whatever the reason, we're all still hoping and praying for a better Malaysia.
I will sing praise, I will sing praise
On Family 🏠
I’m always thankful for the chance to travel and see the world with my family. May the miles we wander always bring us closer together. I do not care about the destination. As long as we’re together, anywhere is a wonderful place to travel.
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Since getting married, I’ve realized that my husband’s greatest love for me is his willingness to journey with my family, especially when our backgrounds are so different and communication isn’t always easy (he doesn’t speak good English, my family doesn’t speak good Mandarin, and my doggies only speak Doggish 😂). His patience and care make it truly remarkable. Each time we return to Seremban, I see him cooking with my mum in the kitchen, gardening with her at the front porch, taking my dad’s baby Candy for walks, going out for breakfast with my dad, and sometimes even tackling plumbing or repainting jobs around the house. Each time, my love for him grows deeper and deeper. I have to admit, if our roles were reversed, I could not even do half of what he does for my family. It's about the love, patience and effort that go into truly connecting with someone else's family. That willingness to step into a space that isn't naturally comfortable for him (different habits, language, thinking). That's a profound kind of love. What really moves me is that love can show itself in small, consistent actions, and caring even when it’s inconvenient. It’s in these everyday moments like cooking, gardening, walking the dog, fixing things around the house that true love reveals itself. Watching him do all this for my family makes me grateful, humbled, and inspired to love as deeply in return.
On School Counselling 💟
We had three school counsellors in a school of more than 2000 students. One colleague retired, and another went on maternity leave, which left me juggling counselling work alone in this two-session school for three months. Other colleagues looked on in admiration as my working hours appeared to shift to 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., but only God knows that those three months were the hardest months of 2025.I remember conducting counselling sessions non-stop, from the minute I signed in until after I signed out, reaching a total of 545 cases and 219 sessions. Exceeding the daily session limit came with its side effects. My brain couldn’t stop swirling even after working hours, trapped in constant questions: How should I conduct my next session? What new activities should I engage the client with? Clients streamed in endlessly, bringing countless concerns, all within the limited time before graduation. Those three months marked the first time I experienced insomnia. I couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t make my brain to stop, and I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears and feel it pounding in my chest, accelerating at night. It was pure agony. Thanks to being a counsellor and being constantly exposed to counselling materials, I taught myself breathing techniques to help myself sleep at night, and thankfully, they worked. There was even one night when I completely broke down and sobbed out loud, the stress simply too much to bear. Writing this now and looking back, I do not want to focus on my problems or my agonies, but on how I drew strength from God every single day. Every morning, my prayer was simple: “Lord, just help me get through this day. Grant me strength for today. Grant me wisdom for today. Fight this battle for me.” Just like that, every single day, one baby step at a time. And somehow, day by day, that was enough. That season of work reminded me that my strength was never meant to come from myself alone, but from God, one day at a time.
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My client died by suicide. The news came through a phone call while I was in the middle of conducting another session. My reaction felt like something out of a movie. I almost dropped the phone. The caller was from my PK HEM, just gently informing me of the client’s passing, and that was it. After the call, I remember just sitting at my office table, completely stunned, too shocked to react, at a loss for words. The tears only came after I got home and sat alone on the sofa. My hands were trembling for about an hour. It was completely involuntary. I remembered every last conversation I had with him. It was only the week before that we had shared our life stories. He was very sweet and thoughtful. Throughout the entire session, there wasn’t a single sign or hint that something was wrong. He was just like any normal kid, sharing, talking, laughing, joking. My friends told me that I had done my part, that the blame wasn’t on me. I knew that. I really did. I just wished I had the skills and professionalism to detect that something wasn’t right from the start. There was regret. And then there was anger, anger that the whole school culture had a part in this. That teachers often lacked awareness about counselling, labelling students who came for help as “bad students.” That the school seemed to care more about academic performance than about the well-being of its students. That counsellors were constantly burdened with too much ad-hoc work, leaving less time and focus for the students who truly needed support. I couldn’t help but wonder how many others had slipped through the cracks, and how I could do better in the future, despite the system around me. I also came to realize that people who have made up their minds to die can hide it frighteningly well. They do not announce it to the world. Quietly, they leave. This change of event will become a motivation for me to keep pushing forward and growing in counselling, not for myself, but for the souls who will cross my path in the future.
---
Three new school counsellors joined my school toward the end of November, and their arrival brought a wave of relief and renewed hope for my work. Seeing them reminded me of my own first posting, of everything I had learned and endured along the way. I sincerely hope I can guide them through their work while shielding them, as much as possible, from the challenges and realities of the school system. At the same time, many “if only…” questions ran through my mind: If only my mentor had spoken up for me. If only my mentor had fought for the rights of the counselling unit. If only my mentor had not neglected their own responsibilities and set their work aside. I do not blame my former mentors. I understand that not everyone finds passion in their work, and that everyone carries their own burdens. Perhaps they, too, were struggling in their own ways, and they certainly had no obligation to help me. Still, whatever my previous mentors lacked, I tried to make up for it by becoming the mentor I wished I had when I was first posted. I spoke up, raised questions, and made sure that counselling work followed the guidelines in the official circular issued by the MOE. Though the current counselling system is still not perfect, and though speaking up might not put me in the good books of those who wanted to take advantage of the counselling unit, I believe it’s worth it. Being afraid and timid belongs to the past. Now that I have mentees who depend on me, I hope to give my best to support them. Only now do I truly understand how each generation builds upon the work of those before it, and I hope I have the ability to help them succeed, to give them courage to reach even greater heights.We now have five full-time, fully functioning school counsellors, and this is neither by coincidence nor by our own hard work, but by God’s hand moving behind the scenes. All glory and praise go to God. 🎉
---
I finally went for the interview to become a registered counsellor in December, 2024. What took me so long? Well, life had taken so many unexpected turns, and only recently did I feel ready to fully commit to this path, so that earning a license would truly matter. Going for the interview so many years after graduation also meant facing a revised system and stricter qualifications, making approval harder. I remember being told during the interview that my application would likely be rejected because my IPG syllabus was outdated and didn’t meet the latest requirements set by Lembaga Kaunselor. I was at a complete loss. Without my license, how can I advance further in this field? How can I volunteer for NGO counselling? How can I join my church's counselling unit? The very next day after the interview, I sent an appeal, attaching a letter of support from my school headmaster, a report on the number of sessions I'd conducted, along with another report on specific sessions that showed the client’s improvement. That night, I sobbed into my pillow and prayed, “If this is the ministry You’ve called me to, if this is what You want for me, please make a way.” Then came seven quiet months. No replies. No emails. Just silence. Slowly, I began to let go and almost forgot about it. Until the day I went to receive my Anugerah Perkhidmatan Cemerlang (APC). While waiting for my turn on stage, a sudden voice in my head said, “Go check the website now.” And in that moment, I saw it. The approval had come through. The same day I received my APC, I also became a licensed counsellor. I believe this is a date I'll forever remember in my life. My first APC and my first license. It felt like God saying, “Look here, I’ve given you two gifts on the same day.” That precious moment reminded me that sometimes, the quietest prayers are answered in the most beautiful, unexpected ways. 😇
I remember conducting counselling sessions non-stop, from the minute I signed in until after I signed out, reaching a total of 545 cases and 219 sessions. Exceeding the daily session limit came with its side effects. My brain couldn’t stop swirling even after working hours, trapped in constant questions: How should I conduct my next session? What new activities should I engage the client with? Clients streamed in endlessly, bringing countless concerns, all within the limited time before graduation. Those three months marked the first time I experienced insomnia. I couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t make my brain to stop, and I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears and feel it pounding in my chest, accelerating at night. It was pure agony. Thanks to being a counsellor and being constantly exposed to counselling materials, I taught myself breathing techniques to help myself sleep at night, and thankfully, they worked. There was even one night when I completely broke down and sobbed out loud, the stress simply too much to bear. Writing this now and looking back, I do not want to focus on my problems or my agonies, but on how I drew strength from God every single day. Every morning, my prayer was simple: “Lord, just help me get through this day. Grant me strength for today. Grant me wisdom for today. Fight this battle for me.” Just like that, every single day, one baby step at a time. And somehow, day by day, that was enough. That season of work reminded me that my strength was never meant to come from myself alone, but from God, one day at a time.
---
My client died by suicide. The news came through a phone call while I was in the middle of conducting another session. My reaction felt like something out of a movie. I almost dropped the phone. The caller was from my PK HEM, just gently informing me of the client’s passing, and that was it. After the call, I remember just sitting at my office table, completely stunned, too shocked to react, at a loss for words. The tears only came after I got home and sat alone on the sofa. My hands were trembling for about an hour. It was completely involuntary. I remembered every last conversation I had with him. It was only the week before that we had shared our life stories. He was very sweet and thoughtful. Throughout the entire session, there wasn’t a single sign or hint that something was wrong. He was just like any normal kid, sharing, talking, laughing, joking. My friends told me that I had done my part, that the blame wasn’t on me. I knew that. I really did. I just wished I had the skills and professionalism to detect that something wasn’t right from the start. There was regret. And then there was anger, anger that the whole school culture had a part in this. That teachers often lacked awareness about counselling, labelling students who came for help as “bad students.” That the school seemed to care more about academic performance than about the well-being of its students. That counsellors were constantly burdened with too much ad-hoc work, leaving less time and focus for the students who truly needed support. I couldn’t help but wonder how many others had slipped through the cracks, and how I could do better in the future, despite the system around me. I also came to realize that people who have made up their minds to die can hide it frighteningly well. They do not announce it to the world. Quietly, they leave. This change of event will become a motivation for me to keep pushing forward and growing in counselling, not for myself, but for the souls who will cross my path in the future.
---
Three new school counsellors joined my school toward the end of November, and their arrival brought a wave of relief and renewed hope for my work. Seeing them reminded me of my own first posting, of everything I had learned and endured along the way. I sincerely hope I can guide them through their work while shielding them, as much as possible, from the challenges and realities of the school system. At the same time, many “if only…” questions ran through my mind: If only my mentor had spoken up for me. If only my mentor had fought for the rights of the counselling unit. If only my mentor had not neglected their own responsibilities and set their work aside. I do not blame my former mentors. I understand that not everyone finds passion in their work, and that everyone carries their own burdens. Perhaps they, too, were struggling in their own ways, and they certainly had no obligation to help me. Still, whatever my previous mentors lacked, I tried to make up for it by becoming the mentor I wished I had when I was first posted. I spoke up, raised questions, and made sure that counselling work followed the guidelines in the official circular issued by the MOE. Though the current counselling system is still not perfect, and though speaking up might not put me in the good books of those who wanted to take advantage of the counselling unit, I believe it’s worth it. Being afraid and timid belongs to the past. Now that I have mentees who depend on me, I hope to give my best to support them. Only now do I truly understand how each generation builds upon the work of those before it, and I hope I have the ability to help them succeed, to give them courage to reach even greater heights.We now have five full-time, fully functioning school counsellors, and this is neither by coincidence nor by our own hard work, but by God’s hand moving behind the scenes. All glory and praise go to God. 🎉
---
I finally went for the interview to become a registered counsellor in December, 2024. What took me so long? Well, life had taken so many unexpected turns, and only recently did I feel ready to fully commit to this path, so that earning a license would truly matter. Going for the interview so many years after graduation also meant facing a revised system and stricter qualifications, making approval harder. I remember being told during the interview that my application would likely be rejected because my IPG syllabus was outdated and didn’t meet the latest requirements set by Lembaga Kaunselor. I was at a complete loss. Without my license, how can I advance further in this field? How can I volunteer for NGO counselling? How can I join my church's counselling unit? The very next day after the interview, I sent an appeal, attaching a letter of support from my school headmaster, a report on the number of sessions I'd conducted, along with another report on specific sessions that showed the client’s improvement. That night, I sobbed into my pillow and prayed, “If this is the ministry You’ve called me to, if this is what You want for me, please make a way.” Then came seven quiet months. No replies. No emails. Just silence. Slowly, I began to let go and almost forgot about it. Until the day I went to receive my Anugerah Perkhidmatan Cemerlang (APC). While waiting for my turn on stage, a sudden voice in my head said, “Go check the website now.” And in that moment, I saw it. The approval had come through. The same day I received my APC, I also became a licensed counsellor. I believe this is a date I'll forever remember in my life. My first APC and my first license. It felt like God saying, “Look here, I’ve given you two gifts on the same day.” That precious moment reminded me that sometimes, the quietest prayers are answered in the most beautiful, unexpected ways. 😇
On Reading📖
I didn’t share many book reviews on Instagram last year, mainly because most of the books I read were about Christianity. I received many free Christian books (mostly non-fiction) from my church, and honestly, it was one of the happiest moments of my life teehee 😁. Being a book sponsor for The Bridge Communication (文桥) also meant receiving even more Christian books. So, throughout the year, I spent my time reading different categories of Christian books. I wasn’t sure if people of different faiths would be interested in reviews of those books, so I mostly kept them to myself.One book that made a lasting impact on me was a Mandarin book entitled 《破除鬼计》 [Destroying the Devil’s Scheme]. The book is a compilation of people sharing their encounters with ghosts and spiritual forces before they came to know God. I personally found it to be a real eye-opener, especially for second-generation Christians like me (those of us born into Christian families). For second-gen Christians, we often do not fully understand or experience what life was like before knowing God. We mostly hear stories from our first-gen Christian friends or parents. This book, however, offered detailed accounts of real-life experiences.
One author shared about growing up in a family of medium child (跳童), a lineage in which a spirit was believed to choose a successor in every new generation. Being “chosen” meant carrying a heavy spiritual burden, and it was said that many who became medium child (跳童) suffered terrible misfortune, sometimes even early or tragic deaths. His father wanted to break this cycle and protect his son from this fate, hoping to free him from the spiritual bondage that had haunted their family for generations. Another story recounted experiences with sleep paralysis (鬼压床). The author would wake up completely unable to move or speak, describing the fear and helplessness they felt. Yet another shared how their family would put protective talismans on the door to ward off spirits, after being haunted for years. In all these stories, the individuals eventually found closure and peace after coming to know God. Reading their experiences made me realize just how real and difficult life can be for people of different faiths, wrestling with unseen spiritual forces. It also reminded me of my own family. My father, once a devoted Buddhist who would trek mountains to meditate, later came to know God in a way that transformed his life. My mother, who frequently visited temples as a child, also encountered God later in life, and her life was forever changed. And my grandmother, who lived in fear of angering spirits even up to her final days in the hospital, was never abandoned by God. A day before her passing, while in a coma, she witnessed God. She woke up exclaiming that she had seen Jesus, insisted on being baptized immediately (which shocked everyone), and then passed away in peace the next day.
On Pet [dog] Welfare🐕
I had always been pondering whether the “Adopt, don’t shop” policy for pets’ welfare is slowly becoming outdated in today’s society. I believe most pet lovers genuinely want to adopt, but living in condominiums doesn’t provide many options. Most adoptions are for large-breed dogs, which require lots of space and daily walks (needs that condo-living simply cannot accomodate). Smaller-breed dogs do sometimes exist, but they are often 5–8 years old, making it harder to train them and start over in condo living. “Move to a landed home, then,” people say. But how many can truly afford a landed home nowadays, especially in the city? I believe it's time that, instead of just blindly repeating the slogan "Adopt, don't shop", we should work on revising the laws governing pet owership in condominums.In Malaysia, pets are not automatically banned in stratified properties such as condos and apartments. By‑Law 14 in the Third Schedule of the Strata Management (Maintenance & Management) Regulations 2015 allows residents to keep pets as long as they do not cause nuisance, danger, or violate local laws and council rules. However, many condo management committees interpret their house rules as “no pets allowed,” and individual local councils have different restrictions. For example, DBKL permits certain small breed dogs in high-rise buildings, whereas MBJB does not allow pet dogs at all in strata/condominum. The question here is: why do local council pet rules (which govern a city) sometimes appear to contradict the Strata Management Act (which governs all of Malaysia)? Local council pet laws and condo management rules should be consistent with the Strata Management Act, because the Act sets the national baseline for strata living, including pets. Pet lovers are doing all they can to advocate for a change in the law. Recently, a Malaysian Olympian, Noraseela Mohd Khalid, filed a lawsuit against the Selangor government and the Petaling Jaya City Council (MBPJ) challenging a blanket ban on keeping dogs in high‑rise residential units. It's a first in Malaysia’s history. She did what many of us have wanted to do but have been afraid to attempt. The suit argues that the by‑law prohibiting dogs above the ground floor in high‑rise properties conflicts with federal law, including the Local Government Act 1976 and the Strata Management Act, and unfairly restricts responsible pet owners. She has all my full support and respect. My influence and power may be small, but I still try to make small changes, one step at a time. If you're interested in seeing a change in pet laws in Malaysia like I am, you can start by emailing your local council every month, urging them to revisit and improve pet regulations in high-rise housing. It's a simple action, but collective voices can push for change.
In Singapore’s public housing (HDB flats), pet dogs are allowed under specific rules. HDB allows one dog per flat, but it must be an approved small breed listed under the Housing and Development (Animals) Rules. There’s a specific list of approved small dog breeds that HDB residents can keep, and the dog must meet size and temperament requirements. Singapore also runs Project ADORE (ADOption and REhoming of dogs), which lets HDB residents adopt local mixed‑breed dogs typically up to about 55 cm at the shoulder. With such a good example right next door, what is keeping Malaysia from implementing the exact same approach? Lingering cultural or religious perceptions? Lack of awareness? Lack of education on pet welfare in schools? Conflicting opinions about pets in urban living? Whatever the reason, we're all still hoping and praying for a better Malaysia.
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2026 — may we always have the compassion, courage, and consistency to shape not just our personal lives, but also the world around us.
My friend set a goal of writing six blog posts in 2026, and I think this idea is super brilliant, so I’m going to set the same goal too, haha! (This post also counts as the first haha!)
As I polish this blog post, the song “Always” by Gateway Worship (feat. Jessie Harris) has been playing on repeat in the background, so I’ll use its lyrics to end my post (super cliché, I know). I really love the lyrics! The lyrics will serve as a heartfelt thanksgiving prayer for the year 2025, a proclamation for the year 2026, and a declaration for all the years to come:
你也写也很长！哈哈哈每次读完你的blog我都觉得自己英文变好了（其实没有XD）
ReplyDeleteCounsellor那个部分读到我热泪盈眶，恭喜你APC和License同一天下来！
呜呜呜我朋友真的是很棒的counsellor，但是也要记得好好self-care吼，不然那么高的工作量，我读着都觉得要burn out了。
越写越爽然后就越来越长哈哈哈！Counselling 这个领域我还在摸爬打滚🥹未来可能还会请教你哦！
Delete