When we hear the word grief, many of us immediately think of death.
We picture funerals, sympathy cards, and the loss of someone we love. While bereavement is one of the most profound experiences of grief, it is far from the only one.
Yet many people tell themselves they "shouldn't" be grieving because nobody has died.
The reality is that grief is about much more than death.
Throughout our lives, we experience countless endings. Some we choose. Others are forced upon us. Even positive changes can involve loss.
You might grieve after:
None of these experiences involves death, yet each can fundamentally change how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Grief is not always something we "get over." Sometimes, significant losses become woven into the way we experience ourselves and the world around us.
In person-centred therapy, the concept of existential touchstones recognises that certain experiences invite us to reflect on fundamental aspects of being human, such as our relationships, identity, freedom, meaning, uncertainty, and mortality (Mearns and Cooper, 2005). Experiences of grief—whether through death, separation, illness, migration, adoption, or another significant life transition—can bring these questions into sharper focus.
For some people, earlier experiences of loss continue to echo throughout life. Someone who moved frequently as a child may notice that goodbyes remain especially painful in adulthood.
An adoptee may grieve relationships, culture, language, identity, history, or unanswered questions, even while having no conscious memories of the original separation, illustrating that we can greive things we do not explicitly remember.
This does not mean we are destined to remain trapped by grief. Rather, it recognises that loss can become part of our personal story. As we make sense of our experiences over time, grief may continue to shape us, not because we have failed to heal, but because what was lost mattered.
Many losses are not only about what has happened - they are also about who we believed we were
After divorce, someone may grieve the future they expected to share and the life they imagined.
Following chronic illness, a person may grieve the body they once trusted.
After moving countries, someone may grieve the familiarity, community, language, and sense of belonging they left behind.
Someone who loses their career may find themselves asking, "If I'm not this person anymore, then who am I?"
These losses are deeply personal because they often involve our identity, our relationships, and our hopes for the future.
However, identity is not fixed. Throughout our lives, we develop ideas about who we are, where we belong, and what our future might hold. Significant losses can challenge these assumptions, leaving us to reconsider who we are, where we belong, and what comes next.
This is one of the reasons grief can feel so unsettling. We are not only adapting to what has happened; we are also trying to understand who we are in light of it.
One of the most difficult aspects of non-death losses is that they are often invisible to others.
Friends might say:
"At least you can have another baby."
"You're young—you'll find someone else."
"You chose to move overseas."
"Everything happens for a reason."
Although these comments are usually well-intentioned, they can unintentionally minimise the person's experience.
Psychologist Dr Kenneth Doka introduced the concept of disenfranchised grief—grief that is not openly acknowledged, socially accepted, or publicly mourned. When people feel their loss "doesn't count," they may question whether they have the right to grieve at all.
When grief does not feel "allowed", it can affect the way we relate to both ourselves and others. It can become difficult to be around people when you feel unseen in your pain, or when your loss is repeatedly minimised. Over time, this lack of recognition can leave people feeling isolated, misunderstood, and reluctant to share what they are going through.
It can also affect the relationship we have with ourselves. We may begin to question whether our feelings are valid, tell ourselves we "should" be over it by now, or compare our grief to that of others. Rather than listening to our own experience, we start judging it.
One of the things I have come to appreciate through my work is that recognising grief outside of bereavement does not diminish the pain of losing someone through death.
Grief is not a competition.
We do not need to compare losses to determine whether someone deserves compassion.
Two people can experience entirely different losses while both carrying genuine sorrow. What matters is not whether society considers the loss significant, but whether it mattered to the person experiencing it.
Many people spend months, or even years, trying to push away feelings they believe they shouldn't be having.
Yet grief has a way of making itself known.
It may appear as sadness, anger, numbness, anxiety, irritability, exhaustion, or even a deep sense of disorientation.
Rather than asking whether your loss is "big enough" to justify grief, it may be more helpful to ask:
What has changed?
What have I lost?
What am I trying to hold on to?
These questions often open the door to greater self-understanding and self-compassion.
There is no right or wrong reason to grieve.
Whether you are mourning a loved one, a relationship, your health, your home, your culture, or a future you once imagined, your feelings deserve acknowledgement.
Healing does not necessarily mean forgetting what was lost. Often, it involves learning how to carry that loss while continuing to move forward in a way that honours both your past and your present.
If your grief feels overwhelming, persistent, or difficult to navigate alone, grief counselling can provide a safe, compassionate space to explore what your loss means to you. You do not have to wait until someone dies before seeking support for grief.
Grief is not evidence that something is wrong with us. More often, it is evidence that something mattered.
A year or so ago, I completed a certificate in Emotional Freedom Techniques (EFT), often referred to as “ EFT tapping” or "Tapping". At the time, I was curious about how it might fit into my work as a counsellor. As a person-centred therapist, my approach is usually rooted in conversation, reflection, and creating a space where people can explore their experiences safely.
But over time in my counselling practice, I began to notice something interesting. In moments where a client became particularly overwhelmed, anxious, or stuck in a trauma response, I sometimes felt myself wondering: Would tapping help here?
It’s not something I use in every session - and it’s never something I impose - but when it feels appropriate, tapping can offer a gentle way to help the body settle.
Emotional Freedom Techniques (EFT) is a therapeutic method that involves lightly tapping on specific acupressure points on the body while focusing on a particular feeling, memory, or issue. It combines elements of cognitive therapy, experiential exploration, and somatic regulation.
The idea is simple: while the mind acknowledges something distressing, the tapping provides rhythmic sensory input that may help calm the nervous system. This can sometimes reduce the intensity of the emotional response and allow people to stay present with what they are feeling.
For some people, this makes it easier to talk about difficult experiences without becoming overwhelmed. Tools that support nervous system regulation can be particularly helpful during periods of high stress, trauma responses or burnout; when the body may already feel stretched beyond its limits.
Anxiety is not just something we think about; it’s something we feel in the body.
Many people describe anxiety as tightness in the chest, racing thoughts, nausea, dizziness, or a sense that their nervous system is constantly “on edge.” While talking about anxiety can be helpful, sometimes the body needs support to settle before deeper exploration becomes possible.
This is where tapping can be useful. The repetitive tapping, combined with naming what is happening internally, can sometimes help people regulate their stress response in the moment.
Clients often report that their distress level decreases while tapping, even if the issue itself hasn’t been fully resolved. That shift can create enough space to explore the thoughts, memories, or experiences connected to the anxiety.
It’s also something clients can practise outside of the therapy room, offering another tool they can return to when they’re feeling overwhelmed.
Trauma responses often live in the body as much as in the mind. When people encounter reminders of past experiences, their nervous system can react quickly, sometimes before they even have words for what they are feeling.
Approaches that include body-based regulation can therefore be helpful alongside traditional talk therapy, and tapping is one of many tools that can support this process.
In particular, butterfly tapping is often used in trauma-informed work because it provides bilateral stimulation and a sense of self-soothing.
It’s important to say that EFT is not a cure for trauma, and it doesn’t replace the relational work that happens in therapy. But it can sometimes help people stay within a manageable emotional window while they process difficult experiences.
As a person-centred therapist, my priority is always the therapeutic relationship and the client’s autonomy. I don’t see therapy as applying techniques to people. Instead, it’s about working collaboratively and respecting each person’s pace, needs, and preferences.
If we use tapping in a session, it usually happens in a very collaborative way. We might explore together what someone is feeling in the moment, what words resonate with them, and what they would like to shift or move toward.
The tapping statements themselves (the sentences thought or spoken while tapping) are often created together. They aren’t scripted. Instead, they emerge from the client’s own experience and language, which tends to make them feel more authentic and meaningful.
Part of my role as a therapist is to help create a space where we can gently explore the presenting issue and understand what may be sitting underneath it. From there, we can work together to consider how the client would like to relate differently to the feeling or situation.
Another helpful aspect of tapping is that it can become something clients take with them outside the therapy room. Many people find it useful as a practical tool they can return to when anxiety and stress begin to rise. Sometimes clients and I practise tapping and self-soothing statements in advance, particularly when they know a stressful situation is coming up, such as an important meeting or upcoming travel.
At the same time, like any therapeutic tool, EFT is not a one-size-fits-all approach. For some people, it resonates strongly, while for others, it may not feel helpful at all. That’s completely okay. It’s simply one option among many ways we can support emotional well-being.
EFT has received growing attention in psychological research over the past two decades, with a number of studies exploring its potential benefits for stress, anxiety, and trauma-related symptoms.
A systematic review published in Frontiers in Psychology (2022) examined the evidence base for Clinical EFT across a range of psychological and physical conditions. The review found that randomised controlled trials have reported improvements in areas such as anxiety, depression, phobias, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), as well as physiological issues such as sports performance and cortisol levels. The authors also noted that improvements were often maintained over time, that benefits could emerge within a relatively small number of sessions, and that EFT interventions have been successfully delivered both in person and remotely.
Other research has explored EFT in high-stress professional contexts. For example, a randomised controlled trial examining nurses working in COVID-19 hospital wards found that a single guided online group EFT session significantly reduced reported levels of stress, anxiety, and burnout compared with a control group that received no intervention.
Research has also suggested potential benefits for trauma-related symptoms. A 2016 meta-analysis found that EFT interventions were associated with significant reductions in PTSD symptoms across multiple clinical studies. These improvements were observed both when EFT was used within therapy treatment and when individuals practised it as a self-help technique, with no adverse effects reported.
While more research is always needed, these findings suggest that approaches which combine cognitive reflection with body-based regulation techniques may offer meaningful support for some people experiencing anxiety, trauma, or high levels of stress.
EFT Tapping isn't my main approach to therapy, but there are moments where it can certainly be helpful. For example, when:
• anxiety becomes intense during a session
• someone feels overwhelmed or emotionally flooded
• trauma memories begin to activate the nervous system
• words feel difficult to access
• someone wants a practical strategy to manage stress and anxiety outside of therapy
Sometimes even a few minutes of tapping can help shift the intensity of what someone is experiencing.
Ultimately, therapy is about finding what supports you best. For some people, that might include EFT tapping. For others, it might be reflection, conversation, grounding exercises, or simply having a space where they feel genuinely heard.
Tapping is not a magic solution, and it doesn’t replace the deeper relational work of therapy. But it can be a helpful companion to that work, offering a way to regulate the nervous system while exploring the experiences that matter most.
If you’re curious about EFT or looking for support with anxiety, stress, or trauma responses, therapy can provide a safe place to explore what might help you feel more regulated and supported.
If you’d like to work together, you can reach out to book a session. I offer counselling online across Australia and internationally (excluding North America).
The holiday season is often spoken about as a time of joy, celebration, and togetherness - but for many people, it’s also a time of holiday stress, disruption, overwhelm, and emotional strain.
As a counsellor and psychotherapist, I see how this season can stir up old wounds, amplify identity stress, and create pressure to “perform” festivity even when you’re exhausted or disconnected. For many, the idea of “coming together” as a family is much more complicated than it sounds. Some families are grieving. Some are navigating addiction. Some aren’t close, or rely on fragile peacekeeping to get through the day. Sometimes the holidays mean pretending everything is fine, even when it isn’t.
For neurodivergent people or people with disabilities or chronic conditions, this season can feel even more demanding. Routines shift. Travel throws the body off balance. There are more social expectations, more sensory overload, and fewer opportunities for rest or regulation. Even joyful things can be draining.
What I see often in therapy is this: the holidays tend to magnify things.
This blog explores why this time of year can be hard, what might be happening beneath the surface, and some gentle ways to take care of yourself. Whether you’re navigating family gatherings, financial stress, or the quiet ache of loneliness, my hope is that you’ll find compassion, validation, and practical support here.
If you’re neurodivergent, disabled, or chronically ill, your health and wellbeing will likely depend on predictability, structure, and rhythm to stay regulated, safe, and well. Holidays tend to disrupt all of that.
Suddenly:
For people with conditions like ADHD, Autism, POTS, diabetes, chronic fatigue, chronic pain, migraines, or autoimmune illnesses, even small routine changes can have significant physical consequences.
Unexpected noise or crowded environments can cause sensory overload
A different meal time can affect blood sugar.
A late night can trigger symptoms.
Travel can worsen pain, flare-ups, or dizziness.
Stress can increase inflammation or dysregulation.
The emotional load and physical load often feed into each other, making it harder to prioritise rest, pacing, medication schedules, hydration, or sensory regulation.
• Keep one or two non-negotiable routines (morning tea, quiet time, medication schedule, stretching, hydration, whatever anchors you).
• Use headphones, sunglasses, familiar scents, or small sensory tools during gatherings.
• Build a small support or regulation kit: meds, oral hydration, salty/sweet snacks, fidgets, ear plugs, gum, a grounding object.
• Let someone you trust know in advance what you might need: a quiet room, a shorter stay, help keeping track of time.
• Pace where you can. Rest is a legitimate strategy, not a failure.
Even in loving families, holiday gatherings can bring up long-standing conflicts and patterns that feel impossible to escape. Old dynamics have a way of resurfacing the moment everyone is in the same room. Tension that’s usually manageable can feel amplified, and the pressure to “keep the peace” often falls on the same people every year.
You might notice familiar stressors creeping in, such as:
And for families who have experienced loss, grief often feels sharpest during family gatherings – when you see the empty seat at the table and the tradition that no longer feels the same.
• Decide your limits before you go : how long you’ll stay, what topics you won’t engage with, and what role you refuse to slip back into.
• Give yourself permission to take breaks without justification.
• Plan an exit time or a strategy for stepping out if you feel overwhelmed.
• Keep simple, respectful boundary phrases ready:
“I’m going to take a moment.”
“I’m not comfortable talking about that.”
“Let’s change the topic.”
• Allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling - frustration, anger, discomfort, grief, sadness. You don’t have to force yourself into feeling “festive.”
Money stress is one of the biggest sources of tension during the holiday period, yet it’s rarely spoken about openly. Financial strain can create anxiety, shame, and conflict - both internally and within families.
There’s pressure to
• Buy gifts
• Host or attend gatherings
• Travel
• and maintain an image of “doing the holidays right”
And with the cost-of-living crisis, social media comparisons, and families who may not understand your financial boundaries, it’s easy to feel inadequate or guilty for not keeping up.
• Set a clear, achievable budget - and communicate it without apologising.
• Consider lower-cost options: potlucks, Secret Santa, “no gift” agreements, and homemade gifts.
• Use community resources if needed (food banks, neighbourhood Christmas lunches, local support services).
• Remind yourself that your worth isn’t measured by what you can afford.
Holiday messaging tends to focus on connection, family, and togetherness, which can feel painful or alienating if that isn’t your reality. Some people don’t have family to celebrate with, are estranged, live far away, or are working through the holiday period. For others, being surrounded by people doesn’t erase the feeling of not quite fitting in.
Many adoptees, migrants, people in blended families, and those navigating cultural or racial differences describe this. The holidays can highlight a sense of “otherness” or bring up identity contrasts that aren’t always visible to others.
There’s also the awkwardness of having to explain why you’re not travelling “home,” or why home is complicated. When everyone else seems to follow a familiar script, it can make your experience feel harder to share.
• Spend time with people who genuinely feel safe or supportive, even if they’re not family.
• Build or adapt past traditions that feel comforting or grounding.
• Acknowledge your feelings without minimising them - loneliness isn’t a personal failing.
• Make a simple plan for days that feel heavy (even if it’s takeaway and a quiet night in).
• Offer yourself compassion. Belonging isn’t defined by having a picture-perfect holiday.
If this season is stirring up more than you expected, you’re not alone. The holidays have a way of brushing against old wounds, unmet expectations, and parts of ourselves we don’t always show the world. And when you’re moving through life as a neurodivergent person, a person of colour, an adoptee, or someone living between cultures, those layers can feel even heavier.
While I hope there may be some helpful suggestions above, therapy doesn’t fix the holiday season, but it can help you:
If that sounds like something you're interested, please reach out to book a session with me - available online in Australia and worldwide (excluding North America).
As a gentle reminder: you don’t need to feel festive to be worthy. You’re allowed to rest, to say no, and to choose peace over performance. The holidays don’t have to be perfect; they only need to be survivable - and, hopefully, kind.
If you ever feel like things are becoming overwhelming, remember that emergency support is available 24/7. In Australia, Lifeline offers a 24/7 crisis line at 13 11 14, and other supports are also available nationwide. Please see further resources here.
Seeking help is a sign of strength, and you don’t have to navigate the holidays alone.
Sometimes, it feels really hard to be honest.
When I write these blogs, I usually try to hit multiple marks: a mix of informative, reflective, a little bit motivational, and yes, sometimes I hope it’ll help people find their way to my counselling practice too.
I usually write about issues I care about deeply, things I have lived experience in, or topics I know are affecting the people around me, whether they’re clients, friends, or just people existing in a very full, often overwhelming world.
But if I’m being truly honest, this year has been incredibly challenging. And the thing that’s made writing particularly hard, the thing that’s been overshadowing almost everything, is this:
Grief.
I have been grieving, and I am grieving.
This isn’t the first time I’ve lost someone I love. I’ve lost friends, I’ve lost grandparents, I’ve lost beloved pets.
But this was the first time I lost a parent (at least, a parent I knew - adoption makes that more complicated).
And what I’ve realised through this painful, confusing, and deeply personal experience is that we don’t talk about grief enough.
I’m not trying to be the expert here. I’m not saying these are “8 tips to heal” or “how to get through grief in 5 easy steps.”
This isn’t that.
This is simply what I’ve learned - and what I’m still learning - about grieving.
We often talk about grief in “stages.” You know the ones: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. They’re from the Kübler-Ross model (1969), and most of us were taught this in school or saw it on TV.
But in real life? Grief isn’t neat or linear. It doesn’t follow a checklist. You don’t tick off “anger” one week and “depression” the next and then land softly in “acceptance.”
Instead, grief is a loop, a wave, a boomerang. It’s something that can hit you suddenly and unexpectedly - even months or years later.
Grief can be triggered by the smallest things:
A routine that’s changed
A smell that reminds you of them
A song on the radio
A TV show you used to watch together
A birthday or holiday without them
Even phrases or mannerisms you’ve inherited from them can become reminders of their absence. Little echoes that catch you off guard.
People often assume you move through grief and eventually arrive at some “end point,” but for many of us, that simply isn’t true.
Grief evolves. It softens, maybe. But it doesn’t disappear.
One of the most painful truths about grief is how isolating it can be - even when you’re not grieving alone.
I grieved alongside other family members, but our experiences were completely different. We had different relationships with the person we lost, different memories, and different ways of coping. It made me realise that even shared grief isn’t always shared the same way.
It can feel incredibly lonely. Like no one truly understands what you're going through. Even those closest to you might feel like bystanders.
And the world doesn’t pause for your pain. Work continues. Bills need paying. Dishes still pile up in the sink. People stop checking in as frequently.
Suddenly, it feels like life has gone back to normal, except your “normal” has been shattered.
You're in a whole new reality, and it's hard to explain that to people who aren't living it.
Sadness is definitely a big part of grief, but it’s not the whole picture. Grief is a full-body, full-spectrum emotional experience.
You might feel anger - at the person who died, at the universe, at medical staff, at people who say the wrong thing, or at nothing in particular.
You might feel guilt - for what you did or didn’t say, for not being there enough, for finding moments of joy after they're gone.
You might feel relief - especially if they suffered. And then guilt about feeling relief.
Grief is messy.
It is layered.
And it doesn’t always make sense.
When we only associate grief with only sadness, we miss how much more complex it is. We don’t talk enough about the confusion, the numbness, the rage, the apathy, or even the occasional laughter - all of which can be part of the grieving process.
When you’re carrying so many emotions at once, it’s easy to run out of capacity. You might notice you’re more irritable, snappy, or withdrawn. Not because you’re not coping, but because you’re running on empty. You’re still grieving, still functioning, but with very little left in the tank.
We often talk about grief as lonely, and it is. But it’s not just the kind of loneliness that comes from your own internal experience. There’s also a very real social discomfort that surrounds grief, which can leave you feeling even more isolated.
People don’t always know what to say. They might change the subject, offer clichés, or go quiet altogether. There seems to be an unspoken time limit - a few weeks, maybe a few months - after which it feels awkward to bring it up again. You might start to feel like you’re being too much, too emotional, or too stuck.
You could still be thinking about the person who died every day, but you stop talking about it because no one else is. The grief hasn’t gone away. It’s just that the space to share it has.
It’s not that people are unkind. We just don’t have a shared language or culture that knows how to hold ongoing grief. And that silence can be painful. You might find yourself avoiding conversations completely, especially when the honest answer to “how are you?” keeps feeling like: “still broken,” “still sad,” “still grieving.”
We don’t often talk enough about how grief lasts longer than the world’s comfort with it, and how hard it is to carry something so heavy, so quietly.
This might seem obvious, but I don’t think we always acknowledge the depth of this transformation.
Some losses tilt your world slightly. Others flip it upside down.
When I lost a friend in my teens, it changed me. It was my first real confrontation with the fragility of life.
When I lost a grandparent, I became more aware of ageing and legacy.
When I lost a parent, someone who shaped my world in deep and complicated ways, everything changed.
Each loss added a new layer to who I am.
And if you’ve experienced profound grief, you probably know this too:
You are not the same person afterwards.
You carry the loss with you. It shapes how you see the world, how you love, how you connect, and how you plan for the future.
There is no going back.
I know it might sound strange, but there’s a grief theory that’s become really popular, especially in therapeutic spaces, called Growing Around Grief (Tonkin, 1996). I’ll include a visual below to help illustrate it.
The idea is that when we lose someone, life temporarily shrinks down to 'just grief'. The emotional weight, the practical admin, the shock. Everything becomes about the loss - making phone calls, cancelling services, receiving flowers and cards. Your whole world can revolve around someone's death.
Eventually, that begins to slow. In this model, the grief itself doesn’t shrink. It doesn’t really go away. But over time, life starts to expand again. Your capacity for connection, laughter, joy, and even purpose, begins to stretch. Not always because you choose it. Sometimes life just nudges it's way in.
Then, there comes a moment in the grieving process, or maybe several moments, when life begins to grow again. You smile. You enjoy something. You feel a moment of peace. And it’s jarring because part of you doesn’t want to feel okay.
Letting that happen can be hard. It can feel like betrayal. You can find yourself missing the intensity of grief because at least then you still felt connected to that person.
The expansion can be beautiful. But it can also come with its own strange discomfort. For some, it might feel safer to stay sad than to face the guilt that can come with moving forward. Letting yourself feel joy again can be another kind of loss, like grieving the grief itself.
I think that’s an important part of this model too.
Yes, we grow around grief. But that growth can feel complicated, tender, and not always linear.
Grief doesn’t just affect your emotions - it can change how you think and see the world. Losing someone you care about deeply can make you question your place in the world, your relationships, and even your safety. You might find yourself becoming more anxious or hyper-aware; maybe worrying about what you eat or how you drive. Worrying about the health of those you love. This is a natural response to trauma and loss.
Watching someone die, especially someone you love, is incredibly traumatic. It can leave you feeling powerless in a world that suddenly feels unpredictable and uncontrollable. Many people try to regain some control by making sense of what happened or protecting themselves from further pain.
Grief often raises big, difficult questions, like:
For some, grief strengthens spiritual beliefs; for others, it shakes their faith. Both reactions are valid parts of the process.
Despite the advice and answers out there, comfort and meaning must be found personally.
There is no universal roadmap to inner peace. Each person must find their own way.
On that subject, I usually end my blogs with a little call to action - something like, “If this resonates, reach out,” or “Counselling can help.” And yes, I do believe therapy can be a really valuable space to process grief.
But I also want to be honest.
There are no perfect words that make grief go away. Not from a friend, not from a therapist, not from a book, or podcast, or quote.
There is no magic fix.
But what I can say is this:
You don’t have to carry it alone.
Grief counselling isn’t about giving you a “cure.”
It’s about sitting with you in the mess. Making space for your tears, your stories, your silence.
It’s about helping you honour what you’ve lost while making space for what’s still here.
Grief is ongoing. It is love, in another form.
And love, even in its most painful forms, deserves to be witnessed.
Burnout is becoming an increasingly common experience, particularly for people who are juggling multiple responsibilities, working in high-pressure environments, or spending a lot of time in emotionally demanding roles.
It’s more than simply feeling tired after a difficult week. Burnout refers to a state of emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion that can develop when stress continues for a long time without enough opportunity for rest or recovery. When it’s left unaddressed, burnout can begin to affect overall wellbeing and make everyday tasks feel much harder to manage.
This blog explores the signs, causes, and recovery strategies for burnout, using insights from psychological research and therapeutic perspectives.
The World Health Organization (WHO) defines burnout as an occupational phenomenon (rather than medical condition), resulting from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed. It manifests as mental and emotional exhaustion, a feeling of negativity and cynicism about one’s own job or life, and a general decline in performance.
However, burnout isn’t limited to professional settings – it frequently affects unpaid caregivers as well. Research from Carers Australia, in partnership with the University of Canberra, found that carers experience almost twice the level of moderate to high psychological distress compared to Australian adults without caregiving responsibilities.
Despite its prevalence,burnout is often dismissed, especially within caring or civic professions, where it’s seen as simply ‘part of the job.’ This mindset leaves many professionals - from doctors and nurses to teachers, lawyers, and police - without the support they need.
Yet, burnout can affect anyone experiencing prolonged emotional stress in any profession. Workplace bullying, poor communication, and chronic pressure are all significant contributors (source).
Burnout is also becoming increasingly common. A 2023 University of Melbourne report found that 1 in 2 workers feel "exhausted" at work.
In my counselling practice, I see more and more people struggling with burnout. Recognising the signs early can help people understand what is happening and begin to look at ways of responding to it.
Burnout manifests in emotional, mental, and physical symptoms that can significantly impact daily life. Some common signs include:
| Emotional Symptoms | Mental Symptoms | Physical Symptoms |
| Feeling detached or cynical about work or responsibilities | Difficulty concentrating or making decisions | Chronic fatigue and exhaustion, even after rest |
| Persistent feelings of sadness, frustration, or helplessness | A sense of being overwhelmed or mentally drained | Frequent headaches, muscle pain, or digestive issues |
| Reduced sense of accomplishment or feeling ineffective | Increased forgetfulness and brain fog | Increased susceptibility to illnesses due to a weakened immune system |
| Increased irritability or difficulty managing emotions | Decreased Productivity | Sleep disturbances such as insomnia or oversleeping |
Understanding these signs can help people recognise when burnout may be developing and consider whether additional support might be helpful.
Burnout can also affect behaviour. Even if the symptoms above are not immediately obvious, changes in how someone copes may be an early warning sign.
For example, you might notice yourself:
These behaviours are often attempts to cope with emotional overload or prolonged stress.
Burnout is often the result of prolonged stress without sufficient recovery. Some common causes include:
1. Chronic Workplace Stress – High workloads, unrealistic expectations, lack of autonomy, or toxic work environments contribute significantly to burnout (Maslach & Leiter, 2016).
2. Emotional Labour – Roles that require constant emotional engagement and “surface acting” (hiding emotions), such as in customer service or healthcare can increase vulnerability to burnout (Jeung, Kim & Chang, 2018).
3. Perfectionism & Overcommitment – Research shows that people who experience “perfectionistic concerns”, such as fear of failure and excessive self-criticism, are significantly more likely to experience burnout (Hill & Curran, 2016).
4. Poor Work Life Balance – In a 2024 study of veterinary professionals, maintaining a work-life balance that included around eight hours of sleep and regular social connection with family and friends, was one of the strongest predictors of lower burnout and higher mental well-being (Volk, et al., 2024)
5. Caregiving Responsibilities – Providing ongoing support to a loved one with a chronic illness or disability can be emotionally and physically draining, leading to burnout over time (De Souza Alvez, et al., 2019)
One of the most harmful myths about burnout is the idea that it stems from personal weakness or failure. In reality, burnout is more often the result of systemic pressures, chronic stress, and unrealistic demands — many of which are outside our control.
This is why self-compassion can play an important role in recovery. Letting go of guilt and treating yourself with the same kindness you might offer a friend can help soften the emotional impact of burnout.
Rather than pushing through or blaming yourself, it can help to:
Burnout recovery isn’t about “fixing” yourself. Often, it begins with understanding your limits, honouring your needs, and allowing space for rest and repair.
Recovering from burnout often requires a combination of rest, boundary-setting, and support. While everyone’s situation is different, the following approaches may help:
Awareness is the first step. If you notice the signs of burnout, acknowledging what is happening can be more helpful than trying to push through it.
Where possible, reaching out for support can make a meaningful difference. This might involve speaking with a manager or HR department in a workplace setting, or leaning on friends, family, or community supports who may be able to help lighten the load.
Rest is not only about sleep. It also includes activities that replenish your energy — such as spending time in nature, engaging in hobbies, or allowing your mind and body to slow down through practices like mindfulness or gentle breathing.
Sometimes, the most restorative thing you can do is simply give yourself permission to pause.
Learning to say no and establishing limits at work and in personal relationships can help prevent further stress from accumulating and create space for recovery.
Therapy can be beneficial for navigating burnout, especially when it leads to anxiety or depression. A therapist can offer personalised strategies for recovery and help you unpack the reasons why burnout has occurred. For example, one
There are also different therapeutic tools that can support nervous system regulation. For example, Emotional Freedom Techniques (EFT) tapping is one approach that some people find helpful for calming the body during moments of overwhelm.
Your GP may also be able to offer practical and medical support if burnout is affecting your health
Burnout is a deep state of emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion that develops over time, particularly for people in demanding or emotionally intensive roles.
Whether you're working in healthcare, education, caregiving, or simply trying to balance too many responsibilities at once, recognising the signs of burnout can be an important first step toward change.
Recovery often involves slowing down enough to notice what your mind and body might be asking for. Rest, support, boundaries, and space to reflect on the pressures you’ve been carrying can all play a role in rebuilding a sense of balance.
If burnout has begun to affect your wellbeing, it may help to talk things through with a therapist. Therapy can offer a space to explore what has led to burnout and to consider ways of moving forward with greater care for yourself.
If you would like support, you are welcome to book a session or explore more about my work on the website.
I only recently learned about Harmony Week. As a person of colour and an immigrant to Australia, I have to admit that my journey since arriving hasn’t always been easy. The world often feels increasingly divisive, shaped by ‘us vs. them’ mentalities. Yet, I believe that global connectedness, cultural diversity, and cultural sharing are net benefits to everyone - not just something to be tolerated, but something to be celebrated.
Harmony Week is an annual celebration of cultural diversity and the benefits it brings to Australia. Established as an Australian Government initiative in 1999, it highlights the rich multicultural fabric of the country - where nearly half of the population is either born overseas or has at least one parent from another country.
Here are some more stats provided by the Australian Gov:
This week also coincides with the United Nations International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (IDERD) on March 21, reinforcing the importance of inclusion, respect, and belonging.
This focus on belonging and identity is critical in mental health. I know firsthand how seeking support can be complicated by cultural stigma, language barriers, or difficulty finding a therapist who truly understands one’s experiences.
I believe that diversity strengthens our ability to heal. Therapy should be a safe, affirming space where all identities and backgrounds are honoured.
But how can we ensure that mental health support is truly inclusive? And why does cultural responsiveness in therapy matter so much?
Our cultural background shapes how we experience the world - including our mental health. From the way emotions are expressed to the support systems we turn to, culture plays a significant role in how we understand and cope with challenges. However, many individuals from minority backgrounds face unique struggles, such as:
Without culturally inclusive therapy, these challenges can lead to isolation and worsening mental health symptoms such as sadness, poor sleep and appetite and social isolation.
Culturally responsive therapy goes beyond simply acknowledging diversity - it actively integrates a person’s cultural identity into the therapeutic process. As a therapist, I take a person-centred, trauma-informed, and identity-affirming approach to ensure that clients feel safe and understood. This means:
For example, someone from a collectivist culture may feel deeply connected to their family and community. Rather than focusing solely on individual coping strategies, therapy could explore ways to strengthen these social supports. Similarly, an LGBTQ+ individual from a conservative background may need a therapist who understands the complexities of navigating their identity in different cultural spaces.
During my trauma training, I came across the Power Threat Meaning Framework (PTMF), and it fundamentally shifted how I think about mental health. Unlike traditional models that focus on diagnosing symptoms, PTMF asks:
🔸 What has happened to you? (Power – the ways in which power has been used against you)
🔸 How did it affect you? (Threat – the difficulties and challenges you’ve faced)
🔸 What sense did you make of it? (Meaning – the beliefs and narratives you’ve formed)
🔸 What did you have to do to survive? (The strategies you developed to cope)
This framework resonated deeply with me because it acknowledges that distress isn’t about what’s ‘wrong’ with a person - it’s about what’s happened to them.
This perspective is especially important when working with people from culturally diverse backgrounds. It creates space for cultural and historical contexts, including migration, displacement, intergenerational trauma, and systemic barriers.
For example, many of my clients struggle with the feeling of ‘not belonging’ after moving countries or growing up between cultures. Instead of pathologising these experiences as ‘anxiety’ or ‘depression,’ PTMF encourages us to see them as valid responses to difficult circumstances. Therapy, then, becomes about reclaiming one’s narrative and finding meaning in their story, rather than fitting into a diagnostic box.
If you’re interested in learning more, I highly recommend Dr. Lucy Johnstone’s blog about introducing this framework to Australia and New Zealand.
If you’re looking for a therapist who values diversity and inclusion, here are some things to consider:
For Clients:
✅ Look for a therapist with experience in culturally responsive care. Check their website or ask directly about their approach to diversity and inclusion.
✅ Seek out support groups or community resources that align with your cultural identity or lived experience.
✅ Don’t be afraid to advocate for yourself in therapy. Your background and experiences matter, and a good therapist will respect, honour, and integrate them into your healing journey.
For Therapists & Mental Health Professionals:
✔ Commit to lifelong learning about different cultural perspectives on mental health. Education is ongoing, not a one-time training.
✔ Recognise and challenge personal biases. Inclusive therapy starts with self-awareness and a willingness to grow.
✔ Create a safe space for all identities by using affirming language, adapting your approach, and being open to feedback from clients about their unique needs.
This Harmony Week, let’s celebrate the richness that diversity brings to our lives—including the way we heal. Mental health support should be accessible, inclusive, and affirming for everyone, no matter their background.
If you’re looking for a therapist who values cultural diversity and offers a safe, supportive space, I’d love to connect.
📅 Book a session today or explore more about my approach on my website.
Let’s create a world where mental health care is truly for everyone. 💜
https://www.harmony.gov.au/about
https://www.harmony.gov.au/resources/resources
https://www.bps.org.uk/member-networks/division-clinical-psychology/power-threat-meaning-framework
For a long time, I didn’t know there was a word or label that described the life I was living as a child. All I knew was that in my family, nothing was permanent. Every couple of years, I’d find myself falling asleep surrounded by boxes, with ‘we’ll miss you’ cards tightly packed away, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about everyone and everything I was leaving behind.
By the time I was 16, I had lived in 11 countries across 3 continents. This may seem shocking to some—an unimaginable amount of upheaval, paired with the privilege of having travelled so much of the world. However, for Adult Third Culture Kids (ATCKs), this narrative is a familiar one.
Like many TCKs, I moved to my passport country (the UK) as a young adult for higher education—a place that, while I had visited regularly and lived in briefly as a child, I knew very little about in terms of daily life without my parents. I became a 19-year-old who spoke perfect, accented, English, and was unable to read a bus timetable—a skill most local children had mastered by the age of 12.
While I can happily say I have now successfully overcome many of those practical obstacles, since then, I have been fascinated by how other Adult Third Culture Kids (ATCKs) experience the world and navigate their mental health. During my counselling training, I dedicated my primary research dissertation to understanding the emotional aspects of the repatriation process and later presented my findings at an international conference.
In this blog, I want to explore the mental health challenges that ATCKs often face, especially during repatriation and adulthood.
Authors and TCK researchers Pollock and Van Reken (2009) define a Third Culture Kid (TCK) as:
"An individual who, having spent a significant part of their developmental years in a culture other than their parents’ culture, develops a sense of relationship to all of the cultures while not having full ownership in any. Elements from each culture are incorporated into the life experience, but the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar experience."`
This widely accepted definition fits within the Cross-Cultural Framework. However, unlike other cross-cultural models—such as intercountry adoptees, mixed-race children, or children of immigrants—the "third culture" of a TCK is considered a transitory experience rather than a permanent one.
The 'Third Culture' is defined by its temporary, highly mobile nature and is shaped by those living within it. TCKs typically relocate frequently due to their parents' professions, such as missionary work, military service, diplomacy, or engineering. Many attend international schools rather than local ones, forming close bonds with other TCKs who share the experience of constant transition. Even if a TCK spends the majority of their childhood in a single host country, the ever-changing social circle reinforces the sense of living in a "middle" culture—a culture that exists between cultures.
This phenomenon is not static; as global mobility increases, so too does the population of TCKs. In 2019, the United Nations estimated that the number of international migrants worldwide had reached 272 million, or 3.5% of the global population. While this statistic doesn’t differentiate between permanent migrants and those planning to return to their home countries, it highlights the reality of a highly mobile world. In countries like Australia, it's estimated that around 1 million people live and work overseas at any given time, contributing to the expanding population of TCKs and the unique challenges they face.
Another unique element of the third culture experience is the process of repatriation—returning to one’s passport country, often for education or work opportunities. This transition usually occurs while their parents remain stationed overseas. Repatriation can be one of the most tumultuous periods in an ATCK's life, as reflected in various studies:
Repatriation is often a long process:
Purnell and Hoburn (2012) found in their study that the "Stabilisation Stage" for Australian ATCKs returning to Australia took a minimum of two years after repatriation. Source
Some ATCKs may never fully assimilate:
Fail, Thompson, and Walker (2004) reported that some participants felt like outsiders in their passport country even 20 to 50 years after repatriation. Source
Settling down can trigger feelings of unrest:
Bushong (2013), a US-based therapist specialising in globally mobile clients, found that many ATCKs seek therapy in their 30s, often during the period when they’re settling down. At this time, they may experience significant feelings of unsettlement, a stark contrast to their peers.
My own research highlights that university-aged ATCKs often struggle significantly during repatriation. This transition can be jarring, as ATCKs may look and sound as though they belong, but feel entirely out of place due to limited understanding of local customs, social norms, or cultural references. ATCK’s may have also built up a picture of what finally ‘going home’ might be like which is different to day-to-day realities. This experience of ‘reverse culture shock’ can be very difficult to cope with, as there are limited tailored resources available and it is a very specific experience.
As Bushong found, even after the initial stages of repatriation, many ATCKs feel distant from others, either having not fully assimilated into their passport country or feeling out of sync as they watch their peers settle down, all while being unsure of why they feel different, especially if other aspects of their lives are going ‘well’.
Growing up as a Third Culture Kid (TCK) is filled with contrasts. It’s widely recognised that being raised among different cultures fosters valuable skills such as cultural sensitivity, multilingualism, and a global outlook. However, for many TCKs, this upbringing also brings challenges, such as difficulties in developing a sense of home, identity, and attachment.
Below are some of the mental health challenges that ATCKs (Adult Third Culture Kids) may face. It’s important to note that each ATCK's experience is unique.
ATCKs often grapple with identity confusion, as they don't neatly fit into a single cultural category. In a world that still often demands clear labels, this can create conflict and anxiety, leading to a fragmented sense of self.
Additionally, the TCK model is defined by the experience of living in a "third culture." When that experience is no longer a part of an ATCK’s life, they may struggle to restructure their identity, especially if ‘being a foreigner’ or ‘always moving’ was a core part of who they were.
Frequent relocations often mean saying goodbye to places, friends, and routines, leading to repeated experiences of loss. Over time, this can accumulate into unresolved grief, which may resurface as anxiety, depression, or difficulty in forming healthy attachments in adult relationships.
As ATCKs grow older and settle in their passport country, they may also feel deep grief for the life they once lived.
For many ATCKs, repatriation coincides with their first experience of living away from home, such as attending university. Unlike their peers, who might have family support nearby, ATCKs often have parents stationed overseas. The physical and emotional distance from their primary support system can be challenging, especially since this may be the first time in their lives they’re not surrounded by others with similar experiences. This can lead to feelings of isolation and a tendency to withdraw socially.
ATCKs may struggle with maintaining deep, lasting friendships and relationships due to a history of transient connections. This can foster a fear of intimacy or reluctance to fully invest in relationships, as they may expect them to be temporary.
Pollock and Van Reken (2009) theorised that ATCKs often form friendships and relationships intensely and quickly due to the pattern of limited time with peers growing up. This intensity can cause difficulty or feelings of rejection if others don’t reciprocate the same level of enthusiasm.
The constant state of flux in a TCK’s upbringing can lead to chronic restlessness, making it difficult for ATCKs to commit to long-term plans, jobs, or living situations. They may crave change or feel unsettled when life becomes too routine, which can conflict with the demands of stable employment or financial stability.
Repatriation often involves a significant adjustment period that can trigger anxiety and stress. Culture shock and confusion are common during this time, and the fear of not fitting in or being misunderstood can exacerbate social anxiety and lead to isolation, and withdrawal. I have previously written about culture shock and how to cope with it, here.
While being an ATCK is a lifelong journey and your relationship with your upbringing is always evolving, here are a few suggestions to help navigate mental health challenges:
Seek out other TCKs online or connect with individuals from international or cross-cultural backgrounds. Finding people who are also experiencing culture shock or who have an "outside" perspective can provide comfort and validation. This sense of belonging can help you feel more grounded in your experiences.
Instead of viewing your diverse cultural background as a burden, see it as a unique strength and a valuable part of your identity. Engage in creative outlets, such as journaling or storytelling, to help appreciate the richness of your experiences. It’s okay to be different! You can read more about embracing cross-cultural identity in my blog here.
Therapy provides a valuable opportunity to explore persistent feelings of anxiety, depression, or restlessness in a safe, non-judgmental environment. A therapist can help you examine how your unique upbringing has shaped your identity and emotional landscape. In my practice, I take a relational approach, where you are the expert of your own story. Together, we will gently explore your emotions, past experiences, and future goals, allowing you to gain deeper insight and clarity.
Navigating life as an Adult Third Culture Kid can be complex, but it also offers unique strengths and perspectives. Understanding the mental health challenges ATCKs may face is the first step in addressing them. By seeking supportive counselling or psychotherapy, ATCKs can work toward embracing their multifaceted identities, processing past losses, and building a grounded sense of self.
Remember, it’s okay if you don’t fit neatly into one culture or place—your diverse background is a valuable part of who you are.
Racism can be more than just discrimination—it can develop into a form of trauma that profoundly impacts mental health. In counselling and psychotherapy, recognising racism as a traumatic experience is essential for providing effective support to those affected.
Recent events, like the riots in the UK fuelled by anti-immigration and Islamophobic rhetoric, highlight the pervasive nature of racism. I was devastated to see such violence and fear in the areas I used to work and live. Even in Australia, where I currently live, a Neo-Nazi group was emboldened by the UK’s unrest and marched through Brisbane a few weeks ago.
This blog explores the impact of racism on mental health, provides a framework for understanding racial trauma, and suggests three key strategies for coping with its effects.
Racial trauma or Race-Based Traumatic Stress (RBTS) refers to the psychological or emotional harm caused by experiences of racial bias, ethnic discrimination, hate crimes, and systemic oppression. Studies show that racism can cause trauma in ways similar to other types of trauma, like violence or abuse, leading to symptoms similar to post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Racial trauma includes both specific incidents and ongoing experiences of living in a racist system, as well as trauma passed down through generations.
Symptoms of racial trauma may include depression, anger, low self-esteem, hypervigilance, and physical reactions such as headaches, sleep problems, and shortness of breath. These symptoms can vary across different racial and ethnic groups. Although racial trauma is not yet recognised as a diagnosable condition by the Diagnostic Statistics Manual 5 (DSM-5), the psychological harm it causes is no less real or painful.
Racism can manifest in various forms and target many aspects of identity, including but not limited to, race, ethnicity, religious beliefs, skin tone, caste and immigration status.
Individual or interpersonal racism occurs when someone treats another person unfairly due to their race. This can happen in various settings, including at work, school, or online, and may involve colleagues, classmates, strangers, or even friends and family. Racism can be overt and intentional, such as through physical attacks, verbal abuse, or exclusion.
However, it can also be more subtle, known as covert racism or microaggressions, which often stem from unconscious biases. This form of racism occurs when someone unknowingly acts on racial stereotypes, without intending to cause harm. Covert racism is often more challenging to identify and address, especially when it is minimised or denied by others.
Frequent exposure to this type of racism, even on a daily basis, can result in significant stress and adversely affect mental health over time.
Examples:
Institutional or systemic racism involves the policies, practices, and structures within society that perpetuate unequal treatment and disadvantages for certain racial or ethnic groups. This form of racism is embedded in the fabric of institutions, such as the criminal justice system, education, healthcare, housing, employment, and politics. It often has roots in historical inequalities like those stemming from colonialism and slavery, which continue to influence modern-day disparities.
For instance, when a person experiences racial bullying at school, it can lead to psychological harm, affecting their academic performance and limiting their future educational and career opportunities. Biases in hiring practices can further marginalise this individual, making it challenging to secure employment or advance in their career, which in turn impacts their financial stability. Financial stress can then negatively affect their health, creating a cycle where poor health limits their work capacity and income potential.
This cycle is often exacerbated by the lack of representation of individuals with lived experiences of racism in leadership positions, which can result in services that do not adequately address the needs of marginalised communities. The interconnected nature of work, education, housing, and health means that systemic racism can trap individuals in a cycle of disadvantage, severely impacting their mental and physical well-being.
Examples:
Vicarious racism refers to the indirect experience of racial discrimination, where individuals are impacted by witnessing or learning about the racism faced by others. Initially, this concept was associated with people who were indirectly affected by racial trauma experienced by their family members or peers.
However, the understanding of vicarious racism has evolved, and it is now recognised that anyone who identifies as a member of that group can experience this form of trauma. For example, watching a graphic video of a person that you relate to through race or ethnicity being murdered, may intensely distress you as you could easily imagine it being yourself.
Exposure to acts of racism, whether through personal connections or widely circulated media coverage, can trigger emotional and psychological responses, including anger, sadness, anxiety, and depression. These effects of racism extend beyond the immediate victim to the broader community, amplifying feelings of vulnerability and distress.
Example:
• On May 25, 2020, George Floyd, an unarmed Black man, was murdered by a white police officer in Minneapolis, USA. The widely shared footage of the incident sparked global protests and highlighted a profound surge in anger, sadness, and distress, particularly among Black Americans. Research indicated that following Floyd's death, Black Americans experienced significantly greater increases in symptoms of depression and anxiety compared to white Americans, illustrating the widespread psychological impact of vicarious racism.
Source.
Intergenerational trauma, also known as generational, transgenerational or historical trauma, is the concept that trauma, particularly racial trauma, can be transmitted through generations within families. This idea was first explored in the descendants of Holocaust survivors, who exhibited elevated levels of anxiety, depression, and stress despite not directly experiencing the traumatic events themselves.
This type of trauma is deeply intertwined with historical and systemic racism, particularly the enduring impacts of colonialism. The legacy of events such as the transatlantic slave trade and Jim Crow laws in the United States, as well as the trauma of the Stolen Generations in Canada and Australia, continues to affect the mental health, social outcomes, and opportunities of descendants. On a psychological level, many descendants of historical injustices have spoken about how difficult it is to come to terms with the horrors that their ancestors endured.
Addressing intergenerational trauma requires a holistic approach that not only acknowledges its personal and familial impacts but also actively challenges the broader systems of inequality and racism that perpetuate these traumas across generations. This involves understanding the historical context, promoting healing within affected communities, and reforming societal structures to foster equity and justice.
Example:
These strategies are designed to support self-care and help reduce the impact of racism and racial trauma:
Understanding that experiencing racial injustice is not your fault is a crucial first step in coping with its effects. Recognise that you cannot control others' prejudices or discriminatory behaviours. Seeking support from 'safe' individuals or communities—whether in person or online—can provide a valuable space to share your experiences and feelings without fear of judgment. Connecting with others who share key aspects of your identity can foster a sense of belonging and provide mutual support and resources.
Therapy is another avenue for exploring and processing these experiences in a secure, non-judgmental environment. Finding a therapist who shares aspects of your identity, such as race, ethnicity, or gender, or one who is knowledgeable and trained in issues of racial trauma, can be particularly beneficial. Don't hesitate to inquire about a therapist's experience with these topics to ensure they are well-equipped to support you.
Resting and recharging are vital practices for managing the mental and emotional toll of racism. Constant exposure to news, social media, or conversations about racial injustice can lead to anxiety, exhaustion, and feelings of helplessness. It's important to recognise when to step back: turn off the news, limit social media use, or mute individuals whose comments are distressing. Taking these breaks is not about avoidance—it's about protecting your mental health and allowing yourself the time and space to process your emotions on your own terms.
Be gentle with yourself and recognise that there will be times when reflecting on your experiences is beneficial and other times when it feels overwhelming. Both reactions are valid. Allow yourself to take mental breaks and rest without guilt, knowing it's okay to step back from the constant demands of processing racial trauma. Treat yourself with the same compassion you would offer a friend, and be patient and understanding, especially during difficult moments.
Accepting and embracing your identity is a profound act of self-love and resistance against racism. Celebrating your unique culture, heritage, and experiences directly challenges the stereotypes and biases that racism perpetuates. Start by exploring your heritage, including both its positive aspects and its challenges. Learning about your culture's traditions, language, food, and customs can help you take pride in your background.
Engage in daily practices of self-affirmation by acknowledging what you are proud of—your character, skills, and achievements. Reflect on what brings you joy and what you value most, whether it’s activities you enjoy or meaningful relationships. These practices build a positive self-image and help resist internalising harmful racist narratives.
By actively celebrating your identity, you challenge stereotypes, foster self-love, and create a buffer against the negative impacts of racism.
As discussed in my previous blog, many people today come from diverse cultural and racial backgrounds, adding layers of complexity to their identities and experiences. For those who are mixed race, this can mean navigating racism, colourism, and xenophobia from various groups. Others may face intersecting forms of discrimination across multiple aspects of their identity, including gender, sexuality, or religion.
Racism and racial identity are multifaceted and deeply personal, and it’s okay for them to be complex. For example, as an intercountry and transracial adoptee, I have a unique and complicated relationship with my racial identity due to being displaced at a young age. This has made it challenging for me to connect with my race and heritage in conventional ways.
Ultimately, there is no single way to experience or cope with racism. What works for one person might not work for another, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s important to recognise that different strategies will resonate at different times. If you’ve tried something and it didn’t help, be gentle with yourself. Coping is a journey, and being patient and kind to yourself is key.
Embrace Mental Health
https://embracementalhealth.org.au/
An initiative by Mental Health Australia aiming to supporting the mental health of people from culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) backgrounds, offering culturally and linguistically accessible resources, services, and information.
Racism. It Stops with Me.
https://itstopswithme.humanrights.gov.au/take-action/support-services
A list of support services and National hotlines in Australia that include services tailored to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander populations, as well as Multicultural services.
Mind UK
https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/tips-for-everyday-living/racism-and-mental-health/
Mind is a national mental health charity in England and Wales, the page above offers further information and resources about mental health and racism.
https://www.mhanational.org/racial-trauma
https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/tips-for-everyday-living/racism-and-mental-health
https://www.nbcc.org/resources/nccs/newsletter/rbts-between-counselors-and-clients
Miller, Carl, et al. “Antisemitism on Twitter before and after Elon Musk’s Acquisition.” Https://Www.isdglobal.org/Isd-Publications/Antisemitism-On-Twitter-Before-And-After-Elon-Musks-Acquisition/, Institute for Strategic Dialogue, 20 Mar. 2023, www.isdglobal.org/isd-publications/antisemitism-on-twitter-before-and-after-elon-musks-acquisition/.
Markwick, A., Ansari, Z., Clinch, D. et al. Experiences of racism among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander adults living in the Australian state of Victoria: a cross-sectional population-based study. BMC Public Health 19, 309 (2019). https://doi.org/10.1186/s12889-019-6614-7
Eichstaedt JC, Sherman GT, Giorgi S, Roberts SO, Reynolds ME, Ungar LH, Guntuku SC. The emotional and mental health impact of the murder of George Floyd on the US population. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2021 Sep 28;118(39):e2109139118. doi: 10.1073/pnas.2109139118. Erratum in: Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A. 2021 Nov 23;118(47):e2118233118. doi: 10.1073/pnas.2118233118. PMID: 34544875; PMCID: PMC8488615.
Han S, Riddell JR, Piquero AR. Anti-Asian American Hate Crimes Spike During the Early Stages of the COVID-19 Pandemic. J Interpers Violence. 2023 Feb;38(3-4):3513-3533. doi: 10.1177/08862605221107056. Epub 2022 Jun 3. PMID: 35657278; PMCID: PMC9168424.
Darwin, Leilani, et al. “Intergenerational Trauma and Mental Health.” AIHW Indigenous MHSPC, 26 May 2023, www.indigenousmhspc.gov.au/publications/trauma
I recently read Lisa Nan Joo’s piece about her experience as a transracial adoptee. She described her experience as belonging to a "Liminal Space." As a transracial and intercountry adoptee, and an adult third culture kid (ATCK), this description resonated with me. I don’t feel like I belong to any one culture or nationality, and I’ve always wondered if that was more a result of being an adult third culture kid or an intercountry and transracial adoptee. I imagine it’s both.
The concept of being “in the between,” “the liminal,” and “the not one, nor the other” is a sentiment echoed by many throughout the years—not limited to the groups I inhabit. This includes people of mixed heritage and race, immigrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and many others.
While reflecting on this, I was reminded of my research into third culture kids, which formed the basis of my dissertation. One central concept is the Cross-Cultural Kid model.
While undertaking my research into third culture kids I came across the concept of ‘The Cross-Cultural Kid (CCK) Model’ pioneered by Ruth E. Van Reken, a prominent adult third culture kid and educator. Although her work has focused prominently on TCKs, Van Reken has acknowledged that TCKs are simply a subset of CCKs. CCKs are defined as “a person who is living or has lived in – or meaningfully interacted with – two or more cultural environments for a significant period of time during childhood”.
Van Reken gives the following examples of cross-cultural kids but this is in no way an exhaustive list and is likely to continue to grow.
As you can see, there are many subsets of people who fit the cross-cultural kid model who have had experiences of, or are connected to, more than one culture. This could be through adoption, mixed heritages, migration or more as the illustration above demonstrates.
Sometimes these identities overlap, such as in my case (intercountry, transracial adoptee, and traditional third culture kid) or someone like Barack Obama who is a biracial, bicultural, a TCK and a racial minority within the USA. Another example includes the late Freddie Mercury, lead singer of the rock band Queen, who was born to Parsi-Indian parents in Zanzibar, attended English boarding schools in India, returned to Zanzibar and then fled Zanzibar Revolution with his family to the UK.
How people navigate these cross-cultural identities will be very personal to them and will differ substantially within each sub-group. However, cross-cultural people are united through a shared experience of multiple identities, impacted by culture, race, ethnicity, or migration—and the experience of living in a dominant monoculture where our identities are often challenged or rejected.
Van Reken recognised that cross-cultural children and adults have a different relationship to culture and identity than those who are monocultured. A limitation of the CCK model is perhaps its large focus on children. While cross-cultural children are significantly impacted by culture in their development, I would argue that adults too can become cross-cultural regardless of their childhoods. For example, many British-born individuals consider themselves Australian after immigrating to Australia as young adults, gaining citizenship, and starting families here.
Realistically, there are no ‘true’ monocultures as the human race has been migrating around the planet since the evolution of the species. However, in most geographic locations, there is a dominant culture which relates to the ethnicity, languages, practices and beliefs of the majority of people residing there.
For many people the dominant culture is intrinsically nationalistic – impacting those who are visually different from the dominant culture. When some people, for example, think that ‘a true Australian’ can only be a white person, this has a very real impact on all people who look different. This can make existing in a country considered ‘home’ unpleasant, facing the ubiquitous question, “But where are you really from?”.
This nationalistic view extends beyond the nation of your passport and into other key personal identities such as religion, ‘a real American is a Christian,’ ‘a real Indian is Hindu’, etc. This non-acceptance of racial differences and the questioning of people’s right to their nationality is what leads to absurdities like the ‘Birther’ conspiracies, where President Barack Obama ultimately chose to release his birth certificate to prove his right to call himself American, and this was still not accepted by many in the country.
The difficulties that cross-cultural people face largely come from their monocultured counterparts. However, this is not unique to any specific monoculture. Cross-cultural people face these difficulties in any monoculture regardless of the race, ethnicity, or geographic location of that monoculture.
For instance, it is not uncommon for some transracial adoptees to be treated as an outsider not just in their adopted culture but also in their birth or ethnic culture, largely due to language barriers, cultural ignorance or lack of shared experiences and knowledge.
I believe there is great value in working with the cross-cultural model, even outside of TCK research where it is predominantly used. While each sub-group has its own unique experiences and issues, it is valuable to be united by our shared ‘outsider’ experience and reject the need to conform to any labels or identities that don’t fit, reflect, or serve us - particularly those imposed upon us by the monoculture.
Van Reken writes:
“Perhaps one of the greatest gifts to give a CCK is to acknowledge the reality that this world of multiple cultures they have experienced as children is a valid place of belonging, even if not rooted in one geographical place or ethnicity.”
As a cross-cultural person, I find myself feeling more and more confident in expressing my identity. Sometimes I say, “I’m adopted from Nepal, but I grew up overseas.” Sometimes I identify as a British Nepalese adoptee or just British, or Nepalese. I am all of these, all at once, and most people don’t need to know my family or life history upon meeting, and I am not obligated to tell them.
What we say, as cross-cultural people needs to be accepted by the wider population.
I used to feel a lot of pressure, both external and internal, to choose a side, or erase another. To fit myself more into the British ‘box’, to distance myself from my Nepalese heritage. To struggle through trying to be ‘more-British’ or to deny my ethnic heritage completely. I also know that one day, my answer to “Where are you from?” might still change and that’s okay too.
While I understand how unique personal identity is. On my own personal journey, freeing myself from a monocultured paradigm took a lot of weight of my shoulders.
The dominant group often ignores the concept of culture completely, as it is the norm in the country they reside. In many ways, they often do not realise they live within a culture; it is just considered ‘normal’ or ‘the way things are’. However, as I’ve written about before, anyone entering this new country might find themselves suddenly struggling with culture shock, feeling alienated by those around them and finding this affecting their mental health.
This affects adults as well as children. It can be incredibly difficult for someone who grew up as part of the dominant monoculture to suddenly find themselves in the position of an outsider in a new culture. They may experience a sense of aloneness that they have never before had to process.
While operating from a cross-cultural perspective will not solve the problems of culture shock or other difficult realities that cross-cultural people often face in terms of rejection and non-acceptance, I do propose it is ultimately a more inclusive model to work from.
For example, in this visual below when we ask someone "Where are you from?".
On the left-hand side, the dominant monoculture perspective may be that people from a certain place should only say they are from there if they have a passport from there/are citizens of the country—and, for some people, ideally also match the racial make-up of the majority population of the country.
On the right-hand side, the cross-cultural perspective allows people to define where they are from through multiple avenues, including ethnic origin, racial identity, passport country, citizenship, migration, travel, and more. It takes into account that where someone is from is often more than a tick-box exercise; rather, it can be nuanced and complex.
As global immigration continues to increase, cross-cultural populations are growing and becoming more and more common.
Recently, in a Facebook post thread, I read how important it was that a mixed-race and mixed-ethnic family taught their children that they are not ‘half of anything’ but ‘both’. Small changes like this can positively impact people’s self-concept. Conversely, asking someone “where they’re really from” to find out their ethnic heritage can negatively impact someone’s view of themselves, suggesting that where they identify as being from is somehow wrong.
I hope that this concept may be helpful to others to - both people from cross-cultural backgrounds and the people who interact with them, be it friends, family members or professionals.
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/blog/2011/04/27/president-obamas-long-form-birth-certificate
https://www.crossculturalkid.org/who-are-cross-cultural-kids/
Third Culture Kids, Growing Up Among Worlds by David C. Pollock and Ruth E. Van Reken (2009)
In the wake of a devastating act of violence in Sydney, leaving six individuals deceased and numerous others wounded, we confront not only the tragedy itself but the rapid spread of misinformation that often follows such events. The digital age has seen misinformation become increasingly prevalent, particularly on social media platforms where immediacy and shareability reign supreme.
Over the past two decades, the rise of social media has significantly amplified the role of misinformation in our daily lives. The ease and speed with which information is shared has often resulted in real-world consequences. A notable example is the misinformation that spread during the 2020 US presidential election, contributing to the Capitol Riots on January 6th, 2021. Similarly, the COVID-19 pandemic was rife with unfounded claims about public health measures, which the World Health Organization linked to poorer health outcomes for populations worldwide.
Recognising the critical need to curb the spread of misinformation, psychologists and researchers are delving deeper into its mechanisms. Their work is pivotal in developing strategies to counteract misinformation and safeguard public discourse.
Psychologists have been making huge strides in gathering more and more information in the field of misinformation in the last few decades.
Here are some of their key findings:
If you feel yourself in a heightened emotional state in response to a distressing event or crisis, it’s important to take a minute to assess how you’re feeling and reflect on what your immediate thoughts are.
Groups of people can often form and have the same opinion. These opinions can easily spiral and spread sensationalised theories, especially if there is a lack of accountability through anonymous posting. If you find yourself feeling more and more worried while reading people’s opinions, that can be a sign to take a step back.
This can be logging out if you’re somewhere online such as TikTok, Facebook, Reddit or ‘X’ (Twitter). Or if you’re somewhere surrounded by people, it may be worth removing yourself from that situation - especially if you have fears there might be an escalation to physical violence.
Large commercial news sources should also be viewed critically as they have their own biases towards immediacy (being the first to break a story) and sensationalism (driving up viewership and clicks).
You are more likely to get correct information from public service agencies and government bodies when they release statements. For example, when the police release a statement about a crime, or an environmental agency releases a statement about a natural disaster.
It is comforting to know as many facts as possible about a distressing event, however often it is the case that we do not have that information immediately. It is okay for this to be a scary experience and for you to acknowledge any feelings that come up as a result.
With the 24-hour news cycle and instant access to social media, it is easy to feel overwhelmed by the constant stream of information and public discourse, especially during a distressing event. It is completely fine to take a break and do something to help you relax. Go outside, enjoy nature, talk to loved ones or consume a more positive form of media.
Self-care is not selfish – it is essential.
Many smartphones now also offer features to manage app usage or set reminders, making it easier for you to remember to pause and recharge.
Often distressing events can trigger emotions that we weren’t fully aware of. We might empathise so much with a victim that we acutely feel their loss or the loss of their loved ones. We might find ourselves angry at an injustice or even fearful to re-enter the world.
In the moments during and after a distressing event, it’s to give ourselves the space, and the validation to process these emotions as they come up. It can be helpful during this time to connect with loved ones including friends and family for support.
However, if you find yourself struggling days or weeks after, it might be time to seek professional support.
These are some of the common signs of distress:
If you find any of the above is true for you, then you may want to consider visiting a GP, speaking to a counsellor, or exploring other mental health resources to get the support you need.
Martel, C., Pennycook, G. & Rand, D.G. Reliance on emotion promotes belief in fake news. Cogn. Research 5, 47 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1186/s41235-020-00252-3 )
Ecker, U.K.H., Lewandowsky, S., Cook, J. et al. The psychological drivers of misinformation belief and its resistance to correction. Nat Rev Psychol 1, 13–29 (2022). https://doi.org/10.1038/s44159-021-00006-y)
https://www.apa.org/monitor/2023/01/trends-taking-aim-misinformation
https://www.who.int/news-room/spotlight/let-s-flatten-the-infodemic-curve
https://emergency.cdc.gov/coping/selfcare.asp
https://www.apa.org/science/about/publications/climate-crisis-action-plan.pdf
https://www.getbadnews.com/books/english
