When Helping Others Pulls You Under

I’m in the park right now with Aden, Eann, and Evan. Arielle is just 16 days old, sleeping peacefully at confinement centre with their mother, too tiny for this dusty bike ride. But the real conversation that’s replaying in my head tonight didn’t happen here. It started earlier today at Stellar International School.

Some time ago, I received a message on LinkedIn:

“Hi Daniel, I’m Flonna. After SPM, I spent 3 months working at Stellar. That experience left a huge impact on me. I’m now at Johns Hopkins University, under the Bloomberg Distinguished Professorship program. As part of the program, we’re encouraged to have ‘curiosity conversations’, informal chats with people whose work inspires us. I would love to speak with you.”

We met face to face. Her boldness reminded me of the kind of people I hope my children become: fearless, purpose-driven, unapologetically curious.

She told me that in her scholarship circle, she’s surrounded by top-tier students who are dying to give back to society. Bright minds, but not content with just getting straight As. They’re chasing purpose. So I explained to my son later that day: straight As are no longer enough.

Today, top universities aren’t just selecting academic perfection. They’re looking for clarity of purpose, social impact, identity.

That same theme came up again later that evening.

Needs, Wants, and the Pull We Don’t See

Back home, Aden did something unexpected. He walked up to me and said: “Daddy, I’m sorry.” I had caught him earlier using the school computer to play games, something we’d clearly told him not to do.

But his honesty disarmed me. I didn’t scold him. Instead, we talked.

I let him play a little longer, and I used that moment to explain:

“There’s a difference between needs and wants. Needs are finite. You eat, you’re full. You drink, you’re done. Wants, though? The more you feed them, the more they grow. Unchecked wants turn into addiction.”

Parenting is value-building. Brick by brick. Boundaries come from understanding those values.

The Workaholic Nobody Wants to Be

Later, Aden turned to me and said, “Daddy, you’re addicted to work.”

He wasn’t wrong.

So I explained to him:

“There’s a word for that: workaholic. Just like alcoholic. Or gamaholic. But there’s a difference between hard work and addiction.

You can work hard to protect your priorities. But if work itself becomes the addiction, and it comes at the cost of those priorities, you’ve crossed a line.”

I told him what I’ve always held on to:

My anchor is this: Family. Health. Purpose.

Nothing is worth doing if it costs me those 3.

When Helping Becomes Enabling

I reflected with Flonna on what we uncovered during our conversation.

Helping is not always helpful. Sometimes, it becomes enabling. It creates dependency. It feels noble, but it erodes resilience.

During the MCO, I stayed with the orang asli. I didn’t want to just send mattresses and cooking oil, snap a photo, and call it CSR. We even documented parts of it on YouTube not for show, but to reflect honestly. Still, I saw how repeated giving without clear goals created expectations.

“No worries,” they said. “More will come.”

They threw away things we would have saved. Children begged barefooted in parking lots because looking dirty brought in money. Giving, without anchoring, had become a survival strategy.

I thought I was helping. But I started to wonder: Am I just feeding a want?

The same pattern happened in Sabah with the undocumented. I flew there on Father’s Day last year. I missed being with my own kids, because something in me knew these children mattered. One young woman, we gave her a shot at Stellar. We sponsored her. We’re mentoring her now.

But even with her, I had to ask: Is this within my boundary of impact? Or am I trying to save the world?

We all have different groups we’re called to serve: refugees, women’s empowerment, leadership, children, and more. I support where I can. But I also draw the line. If it weighs down my priority: health, family, and the purpose of my generational and geographical calling, it’s not mine to carry. Because if it isn’t sustainable, it won’t be stewarded well.

Mirror Neurons, Mud, and Mission Drift

I also reflected on the story of a friend who tried to save his buddy from smoking. He spent so much time with him that he ended up smoking himself.

Same with gambling. Same with porn.

He wanted to help. But without enough strength, he was pulled into the very thing he was trying to rescue others from.

Neuroscience explains this. Mirror neurons in our brain mean that when we’re around someone struggling, we literally begin to fire the same neural pathways. Their pain becomes our experience.

It’s like trying to save someone drowning when you can’t swim. Without boundaries, we both go under.

The Identity Crisis That Filters the Room

Flonna shared vulnerably that she had once struggled to fit in with her peers. She felt odd. Like she didn’t belong. But over time, she found her footing. She’s now surrounded by purpose-driven peers: scholarship students who are eager to give back.

She’s not odd. She’s just early.

I’ve had to cut people out of my life too. Friends who only wanted to talk about cars, games, etc. Not because I’m better. But because I had to protect my trajectory.

Stellar is not for everyone. It’s for the exceptional. Not in status, but in spirit. Not in privilege, but in purpose. The mainstream welcomes all. Mediocrity includes everyone. But purpose? Purpose filters. Purpose demands clarity. And not everyone is ready.

The same dilemma followed me to LinkedIn. Viral content. Sensational posts. All good, but I had to choose: Do I write to trend? Or do I write to transform?

So I made a decision: I will post “boring” articles.

Articles with values. Stories with depth. Pieces that reflect who we are. Let it filter the room. Let it attract the right people.

It worked. That’s how I met Flonna 3 years later.

The Legacy: Who Holds the Rope for You?

She came asking about boundaries. About identity. About where to draw the line.

The truth is, we can’t help everyone. And that’s okay. Our legacy isn’t in saving the world. It’s in showing up for the right ones.

My children don’t need a superhero. They need a father who knows what to say yes to, and what to walk away from.

So I will stand on the riverbank. I will throw the rope. I will pull when I’m strong enough. And when I’m not, I will stay anchored.

Because when I drown, everyone I’m trying to save drowns with me.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

The opposite of helping isn’t walking away. It’s drowning alongside those who refuse to rise.

The opposite of leadership isn’t failure. It’s mission drift.

And the opposite of legacy isn’t obscurity. It’s a life so scattered that nothing endures.

So I ask myself again: Where’s the boundary?

And I remember: That question is the legacy.

Stay tuned:

I’ll be sharing a tidied-up highlight of our conversation soon. Some moments are worth revisiting.