A Christmas reflection on emotional mastery, truth, and the courage to show up

The freedom we crave can quietly become a trap

It was 23 December 2025, 10.43 p.m. I had just returned from Christmas carolling, and I could not ignore how the day began. My emotions spiralled downward. No dramatic trigger, no villain, no one to blame. Just me, failing to manage what I often teach.

The strange part is this. Awareness itself is already a form of strength. The moment you notice the spiral, you create choice. That is not motivation yet, but it is the doorway to mastery. The bigger risk is not spiralling, it is spiralling blindly, or spiralling knowingly and calling it “rest” when it is actually escape.

And then the question that kept returning like a quiet itch, what is true freedom?

A lot of people cherish freedom as the ability to do whatever they want, whenever they want. I respect that. But if I am honest, without marriage, without children, without responsibility, I would become someone who drifts. I would do what I want, as I wish, and slowly lose the shape of who I am. Comfort does not always destroy you loudly. Sometimes it simply removes your reason to fight.

That is why this question matters: Is freedom equal to indulgence, or is freedom the ability to choose responsibility without resentment?

My son’s need for order exposed my own need for control

My second son gives me opportunities to refine my character, and I believe I am also helping him refine his.

He snaps at details, especially when things are out of order. It is not that he cannot handle it, it is that he struggles to accept disorder. He wants things in his order. Not maliciously, not to find fault on purpose, but because something in him becomes overwhelmed when life does not line up neatly. He reads well, draws well, so I am not quick to label. I only know this, he is sensitive to disorder, and life is always out of order. So life gives him many chances to snap.

And he is a mirror to me. Because I snap too, just in more adult-looking ways.

I have been teaching my children for years: Manage your anger, do not let your anger manage you. I say it over and over again. Then the question returns to me, am I practising it?

What has helped him most is not logic first. It is reassurance first. When he cannot handle it, I assure him it is okay. I assure him I understand. I assure him I am with him. Once he feels understood, then I reason with him, and he usually agrees. He admits he could have done better. That teachability gives me patience to guide him again and again.

And then I look at myself, 30-plus years older than him, still refining the same lesson. Who am I to blame him? My job is not to shame him into control, it is to guide him toward mastery. Master over emotion, not slave over it.

Then I saw a possible blind spot in myself. I extend this gentleness to him quickly, but I extend it to myself slowly. Leaders often become safe places for others, but unsafe places for themselves. Mastery is not always forcing motion. Sometimes mastery is allowing a pause without guilt, then choosing the next right step.

Loving truth requires wisdom, not just opinions

This is where my 2026 resolution surfaced clearly: Love truth, love life, love people.

Love truth is the hardest. Because truth is often not how I feel. Truth is multi-faceted. It has angles.

Recently, Malaysia’s High Court rejected former Prime Minister Najib Razak’s bid to serve the remainder of his prison sentence under house arrest.  Supporters felt crushed. Others celebrated. The celebration itself sparked backlash and political tension, with calls for calm and respect for the judiciary.

Which side is true?

Here is what I learned from watching that situation. In complex realities, multiple truths can exist at once:

• Justice matters, and fighting corruption matters.
• How we express victory matters too, because public celebration can become public humiliation.
• Diplomacy and stability matter, especially when alliances are fragile.
• People are forgetful, outrage fades, and moral conviction can quietly weaken over time.

So loving truth is not just picking a side. It is holding the complexity without losing moral centre. Wisdom is not neutrality. Wisdom is clarity with restraint.

For me, loving truth means humility, benefit of doubt, and the willingness to explore what I do not yet understand. It means refusing to let my feelings be my compass.

Love life also needs definition. At this phase, I do not simply want to enjoy life, I want to build life. Generational life. A life rooted in identity. Knowing who we are, what we stand for, and where we are heading.

That is why the conversation with the student council leaders mattered so much. We were not chasing fancy phrases. We were shaping a definition of leadership at Stellar. The process itself was priceless. It forced us to ask, what kind of leaders are we raising?

And servant leadership became the anchor. Not servant plus leader, as if they are equal halves. Servant is the core. Leader is the expression. We rise to be student leaders to earn a ticket to serve. If we are not keen to serve, there is no need to rise.

The day I almost surrendered, and what I would have lost

I thought the day would end poorly because I started low.

The good thing is I knew it. Awareness protected me. The dangerous version is not knowing you are spiralling, then letting the spiral make your decisions for you.

So I called for help. I leaned on discipline. I dragged my feet. My mind felt foggy. It took me longer than usual to prepare and get in the car. I felt like my mind could not function at its optimal state.

The closest analogy that came to mind was stroke recovery. People say mind over body, and I have seen stories where someone refuses to surrender, crawls out of bed day after day, and slowly regains life. Not because it feels good, but because there is still a reason.

Purpose is not poetic. Purpose is fuel.

If I had stayed home, I would have gained short-term comfort and paid long-term regret.

So I went.

I drove my kids to my aunt’s place. I saw my uncle, on a wheelchair after a stroke. For the first time in 5 years, they opened their house again. They invited carolling. It became a family reunion. Family came. We prayed. The kids saw the true essence of Christmas, not the decorations, but the presence.

I cannot imagine what I would have missed if I had given in to my emotions.

That was my truth for that night. Because my goal is to love life and love people, especially my family. And when I chose that goal over my mood, the day ended better than expected.

Freedom is not escape, it is chosen responsibility

Here is the reversal I want to carry into 2026.

True freedom is not doing whatever I want.

True freedom is choosing what I refuse to escape.

And one more layer, because this is where leaders often get trapped.

Sometimes stillness is not escape, it is wisdom.

Sometimes pushing through is not mastery, it is fear of slowing down.

The real test is not whether I can endure discomfort.

The real test is whether I can discern why I am enduring it.

Because indulgence feels like freedom.

But responsibility, carried with love, is what builds a life worth remembering.