Usually at the end of the year, I tend to reflect on how the year has gone by. I love writing in journals and I have names for each month according to how they’ve gone, and then for each quarter of the year. Finally, I try to label a year – but I find it quite hard to find a name for the whole year. I’m not too surprised by the challenge. It’s harder to condense twelve months into short name.
This year, my journaling practice took a bit of a back seat. I mean, I still record things, but the recording has been mostly about work. The setting up of my business has meant that there’s been a lot on my plate. I’m not complaining. I’ve loved every minute of it, but I want to take stock and try and capture it all before the year ends.
As I write this, it is only nine and a half months since I set up Progressive Pathways Consulting. You could have had a baby in that time! It’s been a bit of an interesting ride, because I did things quite quickly, thanks to a redundancy.
I was already reeling from the loss of my dad, when the redundancy happened. It felt like a sucker punch and for a while there, I kept finding it hard to breathe when I thought about next steps.
It feels surreal now as I think about the job applications I wrote up, the interviews or informal discussions I had, and the jobs I was put forward for. Some of the options that were viable meant having to commute daily between the town I live in to the city. Sure, there’s a train, but it had been a while since I’d done the everyday commute. Some others were just too far out of a daily travel distance. It made no sense. Traffic has increased significantly since COVID. I didn’t want to lose the calm starts to my days. Other options meant I’d have to leave Malaysia.
I can tell you that I felt a sense of distress. It was already difficult enough adjusting to my home without my dad. Our home never felt the same after losing my mum, but dad and I had got to a rhythm. We’d had our arguments, deep conversations, and made strides towards a very good coexistence. It’s been hard accepting that with his passing, my entire immediate family is now gone.
There were so many conversations with some close friends about my options. There were realities I now had to face. Rheumatoid arthritis (RA) is part of my reality, and whilst I am doing a lot to keep myself headed towards remission, it is a tight balance. I’ve talked about the ‘spoon theory’ to give a gauge of how my priorities have changed.
My venture has given me a sense of purpose. In my previous job, though I spent six years there, I think I’d lost this drive. I’d become so frustrated by the many U-turns and I felt so very unheard. When I look back, I feel like I had lost myself. I didn’t have the same delight about me when I talked about work. I didn’t feel excited about my work. I held on because of my RA. I let it define me.
I am so thankful to God for my father. Papa pushed me towards doing a coaching qualification. I have been involved in coaching since 2009. I had to learn so many things about how to coach people through a variety of channels – reading up about coaching, speaking to people who were more experienced than I was and who had some experience in the area.
I had coached some diplomats who wanted to understand how to deal with cultural differences in the new places they were sent to. I even had a politician – a member of Parliament, come in for coaching sessions on how to grow confidence to deliver a point. There was a lot of practical learning, but doing the qualification was a game changer.
My dad gave me that. He helped me find something over which I felt a sense of passion again. He knew I had passed my final exams with a distinction, and the plan was to slowly start growing clients on the side and build a sustainable practice that allowed me to leave my job and go full time into coaching. Papa’s pushing me towards coaching really helped me break out of the RA-identity tag. That was much needed!
I wasn’t to know that my dad would pass away two months after I qualified as a coach. All my plans were shelved. There was no room for anything except the grief that consumed my heart. I wanted the time to grieve. I have lost a lot.
You can imagine the scramble that happened when I found out not too long down the line that I was losing my job. It was so difficult to find clarity in that time. I appreciate the person who coached me – and felt a deep appreciation for the coaching process. Through this, I found my grounding, which for me, is my faith in God.
The sense of being grounded is so important. It stops you from feeling that you’re being dashed about senselessly against the rocks. It sent me into a space of calmness, where I was able to give myself the space I needed to really find my sense of purpose again.
It was different this time because even though my RA was a part of the equation, and a big one at that, it didn’t take over the entire process. However, it did help me with what I wanted, and how I wanted to move forward.
I love mornings where I can take my pooch, Gamora, to the park. I think it puts the both of us in an excellent mood. I don’t want to sacrifice all my mornings at the park. Sure, there will be meetings and workshops every now and then, but they won’t take away from the routine. Anything that does that is not of value to me now. The walks that Gamora and I go for are also excellent for me as I deal with RA.
I’ve also come to see that I am so in love with the coaching process. When people look for a coach, they are ready to make some kind of change. I love the ‘a-ha’ moments, when the penny drops for them. I love seeing their drive and sense of wonder when they gain momentum or clarity. There is a sense that they are on the pathway to thriving! It is joyous.
This is a big realization for me. I want to focus on growing the coaching. I’d kept reading early on about finding my niche. I guess this is part of the process.
The other thing that I am very happy and excited about is the book that I’ve written. I was so pleased that Penguin Random House offered me a publishing deal. It’s exciting to think that I’ll have a book out by August 2026.
In this day and age of AI, I’m also thrilled that my book wasn’t authored by AI. It is full of my own experiences as well as things that I have been privy to. AI couldn’t have written it as it is a lot to do with lived experience. The writing process and the whole thing with the publishing deal made me see that there’s now another pivot I can make. I can use my words!
Then there was one more thing – the birth of my podcast. It’s been such a journey. I think both my mum and dad would be proud of this. They knew how difficult it was with the bullying I endured. They were the ones who helped me through it. Being on video is such a stressful thing for me, one of the leftover trauma of having been bullied. Going ahead with the podcast feels like I am taking a bull by the horns. I am excited!
There are some challenges. My RA has progressed. I can see how some work I did, impacted me. It put me on the verge of a flare. This is something I must avoid. The experience is a kind of wisdom I now have on managing my next steps.
The year has flown by. So many wonderful things to reflect on. Yet, the thing that hit me the hardest was when I put up the Christmas tree and didn’t have my dad to help me as he usually did. I posted about this – the pain was real. I think it helps me sum up how 2025 has been for me.
The reality of my dad’s absence, eighteen years or so after I lost my mum, hurts. I feel his absence every single day. The difference is that this time, I have some experience of having grieved for my mum. The experience doesn’t diminish my present grief. At points, it exacerbates my earlier loss, which is now further magnified.
What is different is I remember how kind my dad was to me when I needed to grieve my mum. I wasn’t able to continue as a litigator in the legal practice. It must have hurt him so much to see his daughter, who had dreamed of becoming a lawyer since she was six be unable to continue. Yet, unlike the many others who pushed, coaxed, told me off, and whatever else, because I made the decision to leave the practice, my dad just stood by me.
He knew that I needed the time to grieve. He knew that I needed the space. He knew that I was struggling, and he knew that it was important for my wellbeing that I dialed it back a little – well, maybe a lot.
This grace my dad gave me, helps me now. I give myself the same grace to grieve him. I want to work and I want it to be meaningful and enjoyable. I also want to ensure that I have space to respect the emotions I hold. I won’t have them crowded out by anything, and I won’t let them hold me hostage either.
This year, starting my business with many considerations in my heart, from my health to the grief that I carry, has taught me that compassion to self is important. It has given me the understanding that when I show myself grace, it is an act of courage. When I give myself space, it is a step forward. I refuse to be in a state of constant flux where I have no idea what’s coming or going. That is no longer who I am or the life I lead.
2025 has taught me that as I continue being kind to myself, I can indeed thrive. So, in honour of the year, I’ve had, which includes my losses, my illness, my business, and amazing relationships, I want to name 2025 as the year I thrived.
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