Once a Third Culture Kid, Now an Adult Third Culture Kid: Why Adulting Feels Harder
When you grow up identifying as a Third Culture Kid (TCK), it's hard to imagine one day becoming an Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK). (It's me. I'm one of them!) But just as all kids eventually grow into adults, third culture kids do, too. And with that shift comes a new layer of complexity to an already complex childhood.
In my own journey, as well as in the stories of friends and clients who identify as TCK/ATCK, adulthood adds a whole new layer of complexity to our already complex childhood experiences.
First, a few working definitions:
Third Culture Kid (TCK): a young person who has spent a significant part of their childhood outside their passport country.
Third Culture Adult (TCA): an adult who has lived outside their passport country, but only as an adult.
Adult Third Culture Kid (ATCK): an adult who had a TCK childhood.
I hold all three. My childhood was split between Malaysia and Beijing, which makes me a TCK. Since turning 18, I've lived in the US and Hong Kong, neither of which is my passport country, making me a TCA. And because my TCK childhood still travels with me into adulthood, I am also an ATCK. For this post, I'll focus on ATCKs because the imprint of childhood makes this experience distinct from TCAs.
Why does adulthood feel harder for ATCKs (adults with a significant part of their childhood spent outside their passport country)
1. Adulthood feels too "simple."
The milestones we're taught to strive for—job, partner, house, stability— can feel reductive compared to the vastness of our childhoods. For many ATCKs, simplicity isn't reassuring—it feels flattening. Rather than reducing their histories into something digestible for a listener who they assume will not understand them easily, ATCKs tend to prefer not being fully known to being misunderstood. Because of this preference, ATCKs end up struggling with intimacy and vulnerability in relationships, romantic and/or platonic.
2. Presence is elusive.
ATCKs carry pieces of themselves in every place they've lived and with every person they love across the globe. It's easy to live in nostalgia or the imagined future, but harder to feel grounded in the present. Being present requires daily discipline, including self-care, tending to routines, and staying attuned to the ordinary rhythms of life.
3. When Privilege Creates Gaps in Everyday Life.
Many ATCKs grew up with privileges that insulated them from specific practical skills. It's not unusual to feel a quiet shame when facing "basic" adult tasks—like driving—next to peers who never had a driver's license growing up. And within the polished international school or expat communities, painful realities—racism, sexual assault, family conflict—were often minimized or ignored to preserve an image of ease. This leaves many ATCKs both highly aware and yet under-resourced for the realities of adult life.
4. Identities resist evolving.
For many, being a TCK was core to childhood identity. Letting that identity evolve into ATCK can feel like a loss. Parts of us cling tightly to the past, nostalgic, innocent, unfinished. Others bury painful memories so profoundly that they are forgotten. But when memory is hidden, so too is the chance for healing and integration.
Therapy helps when healing is rarely a linear process.
As a therapist who identifies as TCK/TCA/ATCK, I find that ATCK clients often breathe a sigh of relief when they meet someone who "gets it." During assessments, clients freely share their geography, schools, friendships, and stories without needing to edit, explain, or fear that I won't be able to keep up.
In our work together, therapy becomes a space to:
Validate the complex emotions of a layered upbringing.
Accept the parts of self that were hidden or misunderstood.
Grieve the losses and transitions that often went unacknowledged.
Start working with a culturally attuned and identity-affirming therapist in Highland Park.
It is as layered as answering the question, "Where are you from?" Some days, the work is grieving what was lost. On other days, it's about learning to be present in a life that keeps evolving. And often, it is simply practicing self-compassion in a world that may never fully understand the richness of your story. Many breathe a sigh of relief when they meet someone who "gets it." During assessments, you can freely share your geography, schools, friendships, and stories without needing to edit, explain, or fear that your therapist won't be able to keep up.
Speak with a therapist who shares your history and background.
Validate, accept, and grieve your experiences and the parts of you that have felt misunderstood.
Other Services Offered at Therapy on Fig
At Therapy on Fig, we provide therapy services tailored to the unique needs of couples and individuals. In addition to approaching therapy from a culturally nuanced and affirming perspective, we offer IFS Therapy, Grief and Loss Therapy, Therapy for Empaths, Trauma Therapy, Therapy for Highly Sensitive People, Neurodivergent Affirming Therapy, Therapy for Teens, and Couples Therapy.
Grace Chan is an Associate Marriage and Family Therapist (#142670), supervised by Phillip Chang, LCSW #92156. She is trained in Brainspotting and Prepare/Enrich Premarital Counseling. She integrates Internal Family Systems (IFS) with creative arts therapies to support individuals and couples in deepening their connection to themselves and each other. Reach out to learn more about our experienced therapists.