The Suit of Armor and the Language Glitch

I was sitting at my father-in-law’s house—a place we visit regularly for coffee or a meal. If I’m honest, he intimidates me a little bit.

We were chatting in Dutch. I was doing my best to follow along, jumping in with comments and asking the occasional question to clarify cultural contexts I didn’t grow up with. But between the intimidation and the sheer exhaustion of the work week, I was struggling for words.

Then came the comment. It was well-meaning, but it stung: “Maybe you should take Dutch classes again before you start your business? It might be handy.”

Ouch.

In that moment, I felt a cold shard of ice pierce my chest. My ‘professional’ identity felt attacked. But then, I recalibrated. I realized I wasn’t in danger; I didn’t need to defend myself. He was right—more confidence would help. But more importantly, I realized what was happening inside me.

I have always worn a very specific ‘suit’: the suit of being Professional and Trustworthy. Sometimes, that suit feels more like a suit of armor. I’ve worn it for years to prove my worth.

Through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), I’ve learned that this self-image — this ‘suit’ — is just a result of life’s conditioning. It serves a purpose, but when we fuse with it — when we believe we are the suit — it becomes a limitation.

If I had stayed fused with my ‘Perfect Professional’ suit that day, I would have been offended. I would have closed up. I might have avoided my father-in-law next time. Instead, I recognized the suit for what it was: a poorly fitting garment I was trying to force myself into. I decided to hang it in the back of the closet. It’s still there if I need it, but it doesn’t define me.

I later discovered that my ‘glitch’ has a name: Cognitive Load Exhaustion, or colloquially, a ‘Low Language Day’. For expats, a second language is ‘biologically secondary’. It requires constant, conscious effort. When we are tired or stressed, our brain simply runs out of power to translate.

Living abroad is a constant negotiation of identity. You might ask yourself: “Who am I now that I’ve left home? Am I still the same person if I can’t find the words?”.

If you’ve felt invisible in meeting rooms or lost in translation, know that you aren’t your ‘glitches’ and you aren’t your ‘suits’. You are the one who wears them. And the one who gets to decide when to take them off.

Till next time.

Stay rooted,

Dominika

Writing in a notebook. Lost for words?