Is language a barrier to therapy?

Photo by 愚木混株 Yumu on Unsplash

I think it is good practice for therapists to occasionally do a little self-examination about why their clients might be choosing them.

It seems to me that many of the people I work with are looking for someone with whom they can be authentic. Having to hold ourselves in a way that is unnatural or performative when we are trying to be simultaneously vulnerable and self-reflective seems, frankly, like too much hard work to me. Not to mention, it is likely counterproductive to the therapeutic process. So, in thinking about what it is that permits a person to embody those things that I believe are conducive to good therapy, I was wondering what it might be about me that makes that possible.

This is not a self-congratulatory post, much as it may seem so until now! But rather, an examination of a specific element of therapy that makes the whole thing “click”. We talk a lot about “clicking” in therapy - clicking with the therapist, with their approach, with their personality, but what about their language?

Is language a barrier to therapy?

I would argue, yes, it can be.

I have experienced my own personal therapy in both my native language, English, and in my second language, French. I feel very fortunate to have been able to access both flavours of this counselling, and I recall how much harder it was for me to find someone that I could click with now that I no longer live in the UK.

But would my experience have been or felt different with an anglophone therapist?

Yes, I think it would have.

Because, for all my abilities in French, there are some thoughts, feelings, or memories that I personally feel might have been easier to describe and communicate had it not been for the parsing of that information through the filter of my second language.

I recall the (self-imposed) stress that I felt in the moment when talking about my experience of a complicated pregnancy and difficult family dynamics, and how I - even now, years later - sometimes catch myself cringeing at the use of the wrong word in a vulnerable and sensitive moment. I remember feeling totally derailed in what I was trying to say, because it resulted in primarily feeling embarrassed by my linguistic gaffe.

So when I look at what I offer to my clients, I think one of those elements is the fact that I can offer the fact that I, too, am a foreigner, living in a place where they were not born, living in a culture that is not the one that they grew up in. I have also faced the struggles of being an immigrant, and I can connect with these people in their first language.

They can describe to me their difficulties, their frustrations, their sadness, and even their fears, without having to do the work of translating their stories, or having concerns that they are not going to understand what is being said to them in a relationship where there is an inherent imbalance of power.

Even for those coming to therapy for the first time (and we all have to be new to it once!), it can be a relief to know that one of the things that can take off their list of worries about beginning counselling is concern about communication - and I’m so pleased to be able to offer that. That peace is valuable. And it's one of the many reasons that I do the work that I do.

So if you are considering counselling, and are - like me - an immigrant looking for someone who can understand the context of their situation, of the burdens of cultural assimilation and adapting to a new place, then know that you can be supported, heard, and easily communicate with me, an English-speaking counsellor and therapist living in the EU.

Book a free 30-minute introductory session here.

I look forward to speaking with you.