Walking Beside, Not Ahead: A Counselling Intern’s Reflection

September 2025

Perspectives: Counselling Intern

I didn’t know what to expect when I first stepped into WE CARE. Tucked quietly within the Kembangan–Chai Chee Community Hub, the space didn’t feel clinical—it felt human. The cool air, the faint scent of coffee, and the warm layout of sofas and counselling rooms created a quiet sense of calm. 

That Monday afternoon, after my interview, Ms Han, the Clinical Director of WE CARE, showed me around. The open-concept office surprised me—staff, volunteers, and beneficiaries were chatting over tea, arranging chairs, tending to plants in the backyard. It wasn’t just a centre. It felt like a community. 

I’m currently completing my clinical practicum here as a Master of Counselling student from Monash University. Out of all the placement sites, WE CARE stood out for its focus on addiction recovery, something I’ve encountered often in my work with psychiatric rehabilitation. Still, what I’ve come to learn here goes beyond theory or technique. It’s about presence. About listening. And about walking beside someone—not ahead of them. 

Shifting Gears: From Fixing to Listening 

In the early months, I kept asking myself, “Am I doing enough?” Like many interns, I came in ready to help—but quickly realised that being helpful here didn’t always look the way I expected. It wasn’t about diving in with strategies or tools. It was about slowing down. 

One day, while sitting in the counselling room after a session, I found myself reflecting on a moment of silence between me and a client. I had initially thought I needed to fill that space—but instead, I noticed the client softening, breathing a little easier, allowing the silence to hold what words couldn’t. That was the moment I realised: sometimes, the most powerful support we can offer isn’t a solution—it’s presence. I chuckled quietly to myself, realising how much I had to unlearn. 

What They Don’t Teach You in Class 

Theory gives us frameworks. But WE CARE gave me stories. 

I saw clients who showed up even when they were exhausted, discouraged, or ashamed—still choosing to keep trying. I witnessed the gentle strength of group facilitators who held space without judgment. I experienced the power of supervision, where I could reflect vulnerably and receive grounded, compassionate guidance. 

Most of all, I saw that recovery isn’t just about substance use. It’s about people. Their losses, longings, traumas, and resilience. Every face I encountered reminded me that addiction is never just about the substance—it’s about the pain beneath it. 

A Moment That Stayed With Me 

There’s a client I worked with who shared his experience with Kpods. But what stayed with me wasn’t just what he used—it was everything he was holding inside. 

He was a young adult navigating immense pressure: his studies were falling apart, his relationship had fractured, his family life was strained, and unspoken childhood trauma quietly lingered beneath it all. On the surface, it might have looked like he was just experimenting. But in our sessions, it became clear that the Kpods were a coping mechanism—for stress, for numbness, for grief he hadn’t yet named. 

What struck me most was something he said quietly, almost like a confession: 
“I’ve tried other things before… but Kpods felt different. More dangerous. More addictive. I could feel how quickly it pulled me in.” 
That moment revealed not just self-awareness, but fear—a fear many might not see in someone so young. 

He wasn’t resistant—he was exhausted. And what he needed wasn’t judgment or solutions. He needed space. Space to speak, to feel, to not be okay. 

With the recent rise in Kpod use across Singapore, I hope this reflection offers insight to families, loved ones, and the wider public—that substance use, especially among youths, is often a signal of deeper pain rather than simple rebellion. This doesn’t excuse the behaviour, but it calls for us to respond with compassion rather than condemnation. 

Recovery isn’t just about stopping a harmful habit. It’s about addressing the emotional wounds that made escape feel like the only option in the first place. 

Where I Go From Here 

As I continue this journey as a future counsellor, I carry WE CARE with me—not just in the theories I’ve applied or the sessions I’ve facilitated, but in the quiet moments that changed me. 

The recovery journey is rarely linear, and neither is the process of becoming a counsellor. But what I’ve learned here will stay with me: to slow down, to listen more than I speak, and to never underestimate the power of simply being beside someone, gently and consistently, as they find their way back to themselves. 

 

By Zhang Yijian 

Yijian is a Master of Counselling student currently interning at WE CARE. He aspires to be a therapist focused on early intervention in addiction, supporting individuals before substance use becomes the only way to come. He believes this work begins long before crisis — through presence, trust, and quiet understanding.