On Being: an Expat, a Therapist, and an Expat Therapist

I wanted to start a series about my experiences here in the Netherlands that integrated my thoughts about my work as a therapist and experience as an international living in Amsterdam. These topics might appeal to you as an expat, international, nomad, traveler, and/or multiracial person. Regardless of your background, I believe these topics that I've experienced and/or my clients experienced continue to shape my own business and mindset here today. And hopefully, sharing these thoughts may help others feel more comforted and grounded, or recognize that they can take the next step in supporting their mental health through therapy.

I want to preface that my thoughts and writing are representative of experiences of people who elect to move. While some of the themes may be the same, this post and others alike do not express the weight and the scale of needing to relocate due to extraneous circumstances like seeking shelter and safety from life-threatening situations.

As an Asian American therapist who practiced in the U.S. and relocated to the Netherlands over a year ago, I sit in an interesting position: I am both the therapist and the expat. And honestly? That dual experience has shaped my work in ways I didn't fully anticipate.

This post is part of a larger series on identity, culture, and what it really means to show up for the communities I work with. If previous post about cultural competency served as the framework for this series, this post is about the lived experience underneath it.

What No One Tells You About Relocating

Moving abroad -- especially as an adult, especially by choice -- comes with a particular kind of dissonance. On paper, it's exciting. A new country, a new chapter, an adventure. And it can be all of those things.

If I'm being honest, while I was excited for our move and how living abroad would positively impact my overall quality of life, I was also leaving my career as a successful counselor in the States. Just as I felt like I was finally settling into my career path and making progress, we decided to move.

At times, my own feelings of anxiety and doubt took over: mostly about starting over, figuring out how things work, and wondering whether I made the right call entered my mind. Relocating is disorienting in ways that are hard to articulate, even if you chose it. The "small stuff" that used to be automatic like grocery shopping, making a doctor's appointment, understanding social norms, suddenly requires more effort and intention. And that effort is exhausting in a way that's invisible to almost everyone around you.

There's also a grief that comes with it. Not just for the people you left behind, but for the version of yourself that existed in the context of home. Your humor lands differently and your references don't always translate. The things that made you you in your previous life don't always make the journey with you; at least not right away. And it's now on you to show others those parts of yourself that others previously understood just by the nature of time spent with those friends and family.

But it's very important to remember: that's not a reason not to go. It's just the part that deserves to be named.

The Identity Shift Is Real

Relocating has a way of cracking your sense of self open; sometimes in uncomfortable ways, sometimes in necessary ones.

For me, moving to the Netherlands meant sitting with questions about identity that I thought I'd already worked through. What parts of my culture do I carry with me? What do I leave behind? Where do I belong when I'm no longer in the place that shaped me? How do I positively support myself intrinsically, when external factors are no longer present to provide me with affirmations and/or praise?

These aren't small questions and they don't resolve quickly. But they're worth sitting with because on the other side of that discomfort is usually a more grounded, more intentional sense of who you are and what you actually value.

This is the work I now do with clients navigating the same thing. And it means something different to walk alongside someone in that process when you've been in it yourself.

What I Hear From Expat Clients and Why It Resonates

There are themes that come up again and again in my work with expats, immigrants, and internationals, and I want to name them plainly because I think a lot of people feel them but don't always have a space to say them out loud.

The pressure to "make it here." There's an unspoken expectation that if you chose this (if you packed your life up and moved across the world), you should be thriving. Struggling feels like failure or admitting defeat. But the truth is, building a life from scratch in a foreign country is genuinely hard, and the stress that comes with it is legitimate. Work visa anxiety, career pivots, navigating Dutch bureaucracy and cultural nuances, meeting new people and finding new communities, figuring out your professional identity in a new context...these are real stressors that don't get enough airtime.

Friendship is harder than you expected. Making friends as an adult is already a challenge. Making friends as an expat, where everyone is at a different stage of their stay, where people come and go, where you're always aware that any connection might be temporary, is a different kind of challenge. It requires a kind of vulnerability and persistence that not everyone is prepared for. And the loneliness that fills the gap in the meantime is real, even when your life looks full from the outside. And cities like Amsterdam are quite transient, so the possibility of making close friends, only to have them move, is quite common.

Dating here is its own thing. Whether you're single and navigating the dating culture in the Netherlands, or in a relationship that's been strained by the transition, intimacy and connection take on new weight when you're far from your support system. Some people find that their relationships deepen through the experience of relocating together. Others find that the stress exposes cracks that were already there. Either way, it's worth talking about.

Not feeling fully from anywhere. This one runs deep. especially for those who identify as third culture, or who were already navigating a hyphenated identity before they moved. When you aren't of the culture (in case, not Dutch), but you also don't quite feel like you fully belong back home anymore either, the in-between can feel untethering; I often hear it described as "leaving home to go home." Therapy can be a place to stop performing belonging and just exist in the complexity of it.

Why This Work Matters to Me

I didn't set out to specialize in expat and international clients, but I'm quite glad that my practice evolved in this way.

I'm not going to pretend that my experience makes me the perfect therapist for every expat. But it does mean I come to this work without needing things explained. There's no justification as to why moving somewhere you chose feels hard. Clients don't need to perform gratitude for their "amazing opportunity" before they're allowed to name the grief underneath it. You can just come in and be honest.

That's what I try to offer: a space where your whole experience is welcome; both the excitement and the exhaustion, the growth and the loss, the parts that are thriving and the parts that are quietly falling apart.

A Note on Practical Support

Therapy isn't the only thing that helps expats navigate life in the Netherlands, but it can be a grounding thread through everything else. Whether you're newly arrived and still finding your footing, or you've been here for years and are hitting an unexpected wall, having a consistent space to process what's happening is genuinely useful.

If you're looking for a therapist who understands the nuances, I'd love to connect.

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Working with expats, internationals, and third culture individuals in the Netherlands. English-language sessions available. Schedule your free consultation to learn more.