A Leadership Reflection on Micro-Sacrifices, Family, and the Frameworks That Make Them Sustainable
A Choice Before the Call
It was a beautiful day, not because everything went smoothly, but because it ended with meaning.
The temptation came late in the evening. A friend invited me to join a spinning session, the kind with blaring music, flashing lights, and the adrenaline rush that comes from being surrounded by energy. Normally, a class costs twenty ringgit, but today there was a promotion of one ringgit only. The hype was strong. “Come on, it will be fun,” they said.
I almost said yes.
But before I even called my wife to ask, I paused. I pictured her at home, alone with the maid, taking care of our baby the entire day, with our three other children aged four, seven, and nine. I had promised her long ago that I would never leave her alone with all four children unless the situation was manageable. This was not one of those times.
In that split second, I realised something important: I did not even need to ask for her permission. I already knew the right answer.
This was a micro-death moment, the kind leaders face often. A moment where you die to personal comfort so something more important can live. I turned down the offer and told my friends I had a father’s duty and a husband’s duty.
Remedy woven in: continual self-denial without renewal is not sustainable. If I make this choice every time without building recovery rhythms, burnout will eventually dull my ability to serve. I now keep a renewal cadence: a weekly half-day of solitude, quarterly retreats, and small joys that recharge my emotional battery.
The Gift of Presence
When I got home, my wife had already eaten. But as soon as I sat down, she came over to share what had been frustrating her that day. She is not a workaholic, but she finds joy in meaningful work. I listened.
We had a dinner appointment that was cancelled, so we stayed in, turned the evening into a movie night for the kids, and I unwrapped the guitar we had just bought. The movie’s plot was absurd, but the children laughed, and that was enough.
Earlier in the day, we had met in town with Samuel and Yvonne, friends and partners from our early days of building. The relationship has deepened over the years, shaped by both adjustments and misunderstandings, and clarity has grown.
Charting Others, Serving Through Listening
Lately, I have been almost addicted to helping people process “what happened” in their lives. I use six guiding questions, not just to listen, but to learn deeply about the other person.
Three reasons make me love this process:
- It forces me to truly listen without rushing to reply.
- It helps me understand the person systematically.
- It gives them high clarity about their own journey.
This is my version of the Balloon Return Principle: in a room full of people chasing their own balloons, chaos ensues. But if each person picks up the nearest balloon and hands it to its owner, everyone finds theirs quickly.
Blind spot noted: without a system, this depends entirely on goodwill and discipline. Remedy: formalise it. Onboard new members into this principle, create peer-support rosters, and build structures so it survives beyond individual effort.
Leadership parallel: Toyota’s Kaizen process turns small, helpful acts into cultural muscle memory. That is how the balloon principle can move from fragile idealism to robust culture.
Output vs Outcome
Later, I spoke to a younger teammate and asked what contributions she hoped to make to Stellar. She replied, “I have given my time, effort, heart, and life. What more can I give?” She was not boasting; she has indeed been loyal to the mission.
This is where I pressed further. Loyalty is output. Legacy is outcome. She said her outcome would be to bless people, give them direction when they are lost, build community, and at a basic level, give them jobs.
Giving someone a job is not charity. It is creating the stability they can build a life on, reducing social problems, and sparking growth. It reminded me of missionaries I met from China, willing to give their lives for the mission. In ancient Chinese culture, dying in battle brought honour to the family. Today, the greater call may not be to die physically, but to die to self-interest daily.
Dying to Self: A Living Death That Gives Life
This “death” is not always literal. Sometimes it is:
- Dying to self-serving decisions.
- Dying to self-pursuit of comfort.
- Dying to self-centred thinking.
Reverse insight: while we often think glory is in a big heroic sacrifice, the deeper glory is in the small, invisible choices no one applauds. This is where leaders are forged, in the unseen.
Biological backing: neuroscience shows that repeated small acts of self-control strengthen the prefrontal cortex, improving emotional regulation and long-term decision-making. Self-denial, practiced wisely, rewires the brain to prefer future gain over instant pleasure.
Guarding Against the Identity Trap
One of my blind spots is tying my self-worth to being needed. If my children no longer required me, or if my team functioned entirely without me, would I feel diminished?
Remedy: intentionally invest in joys unrelated to service, such as hobbies, art, and learning. Journal regularly to remind myself of my identity apart from my roles.
Leadership example: Howard Schultz at Starbucks stepped back from daily operations multiple times to ensure the company thrived without his constant presence. That is sustainable leadership.
Strategic Self-Care as Service
Sometimes the most selfless thing you can do is rest. Navy SEALs enforce rest cycles not because they are soft, but because without recovery, mission readiness collapses.
I now think of self-care as stewardship. My health is not mine alone; it is an asset I hold in trust for my family, my team, and the mission I serve. Remedy: I keep a service-to-self ratio. For every six days of active service, I set aside one day of intentional recovery.
Why This Day Was Worth Living
By the end of the night, I had skipped the spinning class, chosen my family, completed our long-awaited pregnancy photo shoot, kept my workout discipline, and spoken meaningfully with my parents.
I had said no to myself in the short term so I could say yes to what would matter in the long term. And I had done it without resentment, because I am learning to replenish as I serve.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
The opposite of living for impact is not doing nothing. It is living only for yourself.
The cure is not to throw yourself into endless sacrifice until you collapse. The cure is to die, over and over, to the parts of yourself that demand comfort at the expense of calling, while building the systems, rhythms, and inner security to ensure you can keep living for impact for decades.
The goal is not simply to die for a cause. The goal is to live in such a way that your life becomes the cause.
