A Natural Part of Change
I’m sitting in the middle of monsoon season, again. It’s raining every day, carving rivers into the streets. The threat of flooding returns, like my memory of being displaced and evacuating my home this past October. A few weeks ago, the earth shook – an earthquake that rattled more than just the walls of the house I was in.
I sold everything last year and moved to Thailand with a conviction to begin a new chapter of life.
As I explore the many coffee shops in Chiang Mai I am surrounded by the hum of a language still partly foreign, sipping strong coffee and eating something sweet … I wonder: Was this move I made brave, or was this running away?
Ambivalence sits next to me. I am uncomfortable. I want to push it away. It doesn’t speak clearly or in full sentences. It shows up in the pause before I respond to friends who ask, “How’s Thailand?” It lives in the unstable silence of emotion… swirling in gratitude and doubt.
The Art of Ambivalence
“Ambi” = both sides “Valence” = strength or power So, ambivalence literally means: 👉 “The strength of both sides.”
I remember the Motivational Interviewing (MI) training I attended many years ago. It wasn’t just about learning how to help others — it was about learning how to work with the art of ambivalence inside myself.
If I can hold my own inner conflicts with compassion, I can better hold space for others doing the same.
There’s real strength in being able to hold two truths at the same time — to want and not want, to grieve and feel grateful, to stay and to leave. I keep reminding myself: ambivalence isn’t weakness. It’s a deeply human response to change, and it deserves to be normalized.
Some days, the tug-of-war inside makes me feel like I’m going a little out of my mind. But then I remember — it’s not craziness, it’s courage.
It takes strength to look in two directions at once. And the more capacity I can develop to tolerate that tension the better equipped I am to make wise, grounded decisions. And the less likely I am to leap into impulsivity just to escape the discomfort.
Ambivalence invites me to make choices with greater wisdom and integrity.
Paradise with Paradox
Life in Thailand is beautiful … and can sometimes be a little disorienting.
The Thai language is rich of emotional vocabulary, especially through the use of the word “ใจ” (jai), meaning heart. It appears in dozens of compound words that describe emotional states, revealing a beautiful emotional awareness embedded in the language.
That beauty, however, is complicated by cultural imperatives like เกรงใจ (kreng jai), the deep desire not to inconvenience or burden others. And the powerful social norm of saving face. These values shape how emotions are expressed (or not expressed) in daily life.
👉 Read more: Getting to the Heart of the Thai Language
The pulse I feel here is the cultural contrast. Western culture tends to emphasize assertiveness, individuality, and directness. Thai culture, through kreng jai, emphasizes interdependence, harmony and social cohesion. The clash between these values creates a subtle yet persistent dilemma.
On one hand, Thai culture honors the emotional landscape — it has words for so many subtle shifts of heart. On the other hand, it discourages the open expression of those feelings, especially when they might cause discomfort, confrontation, or loss of face.
It’s a place that often looks like peace. But if you peek behind the curtain, you can feel the tension. Especially in those moments when people smile politely in conversation, only to erupt in road rage in traffic later.
This is the paradox: People feel deeply but are often not safe to speak deeply.
The Grace of Unfinished Decisions
I came to Thailand not to escape my past – I came here to be honest. To step into something that could only emerge by letting go of what no longer fit.
Of course, there is grief in that. And also, great relief.
It’s the experience of paradox – and ambivalence – that helps me honor both.
Change is rarely clean and simple, as much as I wish it sometimes were.
These big life shifts I am living – loss of my father, quitting my job, selling nearly everything, and getting out of ‘merikkkah. Needs to be lived into slowly, sometimes painfully and beautifully.
Like learning Thai, a language rich with emotional heart-vocabulary that I butcher daily, but keep trying to speak.
Life keeps moving. I keep listening. Watching clouds burst open and feeling the ground tremble beneath me.
I recall a teaching… “There’s no such thing as failure”
Only the commitment to stay with my own process.
There’s grace in showing up again and again, in sitting with the unanswered questions, even when I am craving resolution and answers.
So… Bring on the rain. Let the floodwaters rise. Let the earth shift beneath me.
I commit to not treating these things as interruptions to the life I am building.
They are part of it, part of the unfolding of a life I am still learning how to live.
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