“Why did you start songwriting at the age of nine?”
A simple question, yet it touches the deepest part of my soul.
As a child, my younger brother and I were raised by our grandparents. My father’s job required him to move constantly, and my mother had to follow. I often wondered if I truly belonged to my parents because we were apart for so long. I longed for their presence, and I envied my younger siblings who grew up in their embrace.
At age nine, during a school holiday, my parents finally brought us together. For the first time, all five siblings lived under one roof. That moment of unity inspired my very first song: “Don’t Let My Tears Fall.”
But good things rarely last. Just six months later, my father disappeared, leaving behind debt from gambling. My mother was suddenly alone with five children. At ten years old, I promised myself that I would be the role model of our family, to study hard, protect my siblings, and never let anyone hurt my mother again.
I was accepted into a government college with a scholarship—something I thought would relieve my family’s financial burden. But surrounded by elite students, I buckled under the pressure. During a major exam, I collapsed in pain due to a stomach condition and woke up in a hospital bed. My teacher asked if I still wanted to take the test. There was no resit option. I forced myself to finish the paper, but failed and was dismissed.
Devastated, I cried for three days. Then I picked myself up and applied to a private university with a scholarship. Despite excelling in my first semester, the scholarship was delayed. I was asked to pay RM40,000 in tuition. I called my uncle for help, but he simply said, “Don’t study anymore. Come back and work.” I had no choice. I left school. Two months later, the scholarship was approved—but I had already dropped out.
Still, I never gave up on learning or music. At 28, I got married after knowing someone for just two months, believing love would bring me the wholeness I missed growing up. But I poured all my energy into work, trying to provide a better life for my mother, and neglected my marriage. In our third year, we separated. My mother disapproved. My heart broke. I fell into depression.
The hardest blow came the following Christmas. My father and I had planned to meet for lunch, but I received a call at 4 a.m.—he had collapsed and died at a bar during Christmas Eve celebrations. We rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. For three years, I shut myself off every Christmas, consumed by grief.
Eventually, I sought healing. I enrolled in the Practitioner Diploma of Clinical Hypnosis at the London College of Clinical Hypnosis, worked tirelessly, and earned my hypnotherapy license after two years. I became a Qualified Clinical Hypnotherapist, guiding others through their darkness.
Today, I am a songwriter, a Clinical Hypnotherapist, and a storyteller. Every song I write holds a memory, every lyric carries a truth. I’ve turned my sorrow into music, my scars into fire, and my life into a beacon of hope.
She didn’t just rise.
She became the light.