Finding My Voice: Practising Psychology in Another Language
From Thailand to Australia: Learning to Live in English
I have a confession to make. For the past decade, I avoided using my native tongue on purpose.
I was born and raised in Thailand. At 16, I had the life-changing opportunity to come to Australia to study. My English was okay, but I went to a Thai school. This meant all subjects were taught in Thai, except for English, where we learned grammar and essay writing—much like Australians learn Japanese or French as an elective in school.
My far-sighted parents enrolled me in many activities that used English, which meant my English was better than the average Thai student, but I still had a lot to learn to survive as a teenager in an English-speaking country.
Adapting to an English-Speaking World
I rehearsed every conversation in my head before starting them. I watched every English movie twice—once with subtitles and once without. I purposely did not make any friends from Thailand, so I would be forced to speak and improve my English.
I tried really, really hard to speak English well.
In the third-world country where I came from, it felt like the ultimate ticket to a better life. I once read somewhere as a child: “Most knowledge in this world is written down or translated into English.” I registered that my mother tongue was not as widely spoken and, therefore, less important.
Becoming a Psychologist in Australia
My efforts paid off.
I was accepted into the University of Melbourne for my undergraduate studies and later completed postgraduate training at Monash University. My blood, sweat, and tears went into becoming a psychologist.
I have always found the human mind, body, and brain to be the most fascinating topics. When combined with the opportunity to contribute positively to people’s lives, I realised I had found the recipe for my dream career.
Facing Questions About Language and Competence
I eventually started working at a lovely clinic. Occasionally, prospective clients would question my English proficiency.
“Did you have to do any kind of English test to be a psychologist?” the practice manager once asked me.
“We’ve had some clients asking whether you’re fluent in English before booking in.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I scored almost full marks on the IELTS and PTE. I have three psychology degrees completed entirely in English, and I wrote a thesis as part of my degree, which required a very high level of English.”
This seemed to reassure the inquiring clients, but I still felt uneasy.
Trying to Fit In
At one point, I even bleached my hair—brown with blonde highlights—a popular look among Australian-born Asians at the time. I hoped people might think I belonged here more and see me as more competent.
I also covered my bilingual computer keyboard with a dust cover, hoping people would assume I only spoke English.
But who was I kidding? My accent always gave away that I was born speaking another language.
Discovering the Need for a Thai-Speaking Psychologist
A few years later, I began building my own private practice. While doing so, I noticed something surprising: I couldn’t find any Thai-speaking psychologists listed in Australia.
So I posted in a Thai community Facebook group that I had availability and could offer therapy in Thai.
The response was overwhelming.
The Unexpected Challenge of Practising Psychology in Thai
However, a new worry emerged.
Although Thai is my first language, I had learned everything about psychology in English. All my counselling skills had been practised solely in English.
“I feel like I’m not helping them,” I confided in my best friend.
“I can’t explain the concepts and theories as well in Thai.”
“If it were me, I’d already be happy just to talk to a therapist in my own language,” she said wisely.
“Just start by listening.”
Advice That Changed Everything
My father echoed a similar sentiment.
“How many words can there really be in counselling?” he said.
(Many, many words, I thought.)
“Just keep going,” he added. “You’ll get better after the fifth client.”
And surprisingly, he was right.
Learning to Practise Therapy in My Native Language
To improve my professional Thai, I began immersing myself again in the language.
Building My Professional Thai
I started:
Watching Thai psychology content on YouTube
Reading Thai books on psychology
Studying therapy vocabulary and expressions in Thai
I even flew back to Thailand to learn from one of the country’s top psychiatrists.
My “working Thai” improved very rapidly. Today, I’m proud to say I’m just as confident practising psychology in Thai as I am in English.
Reconnecting With My Identity Through Language
But the most transformative part of this journey wasn’t just skill development.
Practising therapy in my first language helped me reconnect with the inner child who once wished she had been born in an English-speaking country so she could have a perfect accent and avoid being teased in high school.
It also healed the insecure new graduate who simply wanted her competence to not be questioned.
Wearing My Accent With Pride
My accent does not make me less competent.
In fact, I now believe it makes me more competent.
Today, I wear my accent like a badge of honour. It represents my heritage and the courage it took to uproot my life as a teenager in search of a better future.
Supporting the Thai Community in Australia
One of the most rewarding moments came when a Thai GP told me:
“I’ve been working as a GP here for more than 20 years and haven’t found a Thai-speaking psychologist for my patients until I found you.”
A Thai lawyer shared a similar sentiment.
I don’t think I’m particularly special, and I doubt I’m the only Thai-speaking psychologist in Australia (if there are others—please reach out!). But it feels wonderful to know I’m contributing to an underserved community.
Why Therapy in Your Native Language Matters
Embarrassingly, I once believed something very different.
I used to think:
“Therapy doesn’t work as well for Thai people.”
We weren’t taught to reflect deeply on our emotions or verbalise our needs. I believed therapy worked better for Westerners or Westernised Asians.
But working with more Thai clients quickly changed my perspective.
Emotional Expression Exists in Every Culture
Everyone—when given the right support—can identify their feelings and express what they need.
The difference is that each culture has its own way of understanding and communicating emotions.
Being able to speak in the language you feel most comfortable with, with someone who understands your cultural background, can make a profound difference in the healing process.
Embracing Both Languages in My Career
This journey has been one of stepping out of my comfort zone, learning new skills, reconnecting with my roots, and expanding my professional identity.
The road ahead is long.
But one thing is certain: while I am deeply grateful for every opportunity my English has afforded me, I will continue to strengthen my professional Thai—and I will never again underestimate the value of my mother tongue.
