I am a girl,
whose mother left
& father was not there.
THIS IS A PERSONAL STORY.
At three, my mother dropped me at my grandparents’ in the middle of the night, and left for work abroad. I was raised by my grandparents and father who were shaped by colonial forced labor and war survival. Survival meant suppressing their emotions, for being emotional will be critically judged as weak, misbehave, or ungrateful.
So, I learned early on to silence my grief, and profound sadness in fear of abandonment, and found safety in fitting in as an obedient child, while enduring the scarcity, anxiety, and post war trauma of my environment.
Like many Vietnamese at the time, I lost touch with myself, just as they had.
At nine, I moved abroad and became a Third Culture Kid who was too different to fit in, yet growing distant from my own roots. To continue silencing myself, I tried my hardest to fit into the adults' expectations of being a perfect student: from top grades, valedictorians, to PhD scholarships. I was stuck in a pattern of outward fitting in, pleasing, proving and performing, while feeling losing myself, feeling insignificant, anxious, and empty inside.
During this phase, I decided to return to Vietnam, hoping to find a home.
Only to realized, I didn't belong. Not here, not anywhere. I was all alone in this world.
Depression crept in. My ex partner tried to reach me, but I was disconnected, unreachable. We drifted apart, and I lost the last person I had.
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Drowning in loneliness, I was trapped in a dark hole. Without knowing how to handle these overwhelming emotions, I heard my mother’s voice: “Fight your emotions. Don't be weak.”
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And so, I abandoned my pain once again to return to what I knew best: striving.​
I hear my inner-critic judging me down, perpetuating a rush to fight for my self-worth, and trapped me in survival mode.
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By mid-20s, despite some success, I was cycling through some very profoundly painful heartbreaks. One truth kept repeating, I was drawn to emotionally unavailable partners. The more they are unavailable, the more I fear abandonment, the more I blindly clung onto them, censoring their neglect and mistreatment, rather than confronting my fears and pain.​​​​​​​​
Until one undeniable night, I tore myself away and ran back to my parents’ house, locked myself in my room, and drowned in shame. I had to leave that toxic relationship but had nowhere left to escape. I wanted to end it all.
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Collapsed on the floor, unable to move, I finally met her: my little inner child. Neglected. Abandoned. Terrified. Just waiting for someone to sit with her unconditionally.
Where do I go from here?
Like Rumi said:
"The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
Desperation has a way of breaking us open.
In a meditation circle, as stillness settled, I felt a warm light, so steady, and safe shining down through the ache of my heart. Surrendering, I saw myself, others, life not through judgment, but through being present with it.
Like sunlight slowly entering a dark room revealing my inner state, my long silence began to stir.
One of the greatest gifts in my healing journey has been the people I met along the way. One of them was my first therapist. With him, I laid down my mask of “excellency” and entered the trembling sense of “not feeling good enough.” With compassion, I learned to hold: my pain and my authenticity.
We often wore masks to seek acceptance.
Then, we wonder why we lost who we are.
Therapy was a turning point.
It gave me language for the silent storms.
It gave me tools to hold myself with compassion.
It helped me understand why I was drawn to unavailable relationships.
Why I feared softness, even as I craved it.
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Today, I no longer shrink to fit roles that were never mine to carry. My aligned sense of self and clear inner values began to form a healthier adult within me. I feel so blessed for my unusual times, for my greatest pain showed me back to who I am, and how I can return to others.
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My sufferings told me of what was important yet neglected in me, it also showed me my power and gifts for others. I grew confident in concreting relationships and lifestyle I truly value.
I feel so blessed for my unusual times, for my greatest pain showed me my highest meaning, purpose and the joy of life.
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Today, I work as a relational psychotherapist supporting women navigating emotional disconnection, relationship crises, and the silent grief of losing themselves while trying to be everything for everyone.
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I help them return to the parts of themselves that were never broken, only buried.​​ Together, we heal relationship wounds, soften survival patterns, and build a secure, loving inner home that can hold both truth and tenderness, and from this stable security within, they gained the capacity to build long lasting secure relationships.
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You don’t have to keep proving your worth by being strong.
You don’t have to carry it all alone.​
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If you are still reading here, I want to thank you for your time and I look forward to hearing about your story too.
From my heart,
