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Feeling Torn Between Two Versions of Myself

Ask Ash

I've been struggling with something that's been weighing on me more lately. I'm second-generation, grew up in the US but my parents are from Korea, and I feel like I'm constantly code-switching between two different versions of myself. At work and with my friends here, I'm this outgoing, assertive person who speaks up in meetings and makes jokes. But when I'm with my family or at Korean gatherings, I become quieter, more deferential, and I can feel myself shrinking back into this other role. The thing is, both feel real to me, but also neither feels completely authentic anymore.

What's really getting to me is that my partner, who's white, doesn't fully understand why I can't just 'be myself' everywhere. He means well, but he said something last week about how I seem like a different person around my parents, and it's been stuck in my head. I tried explaining the cultural expectations, the respect hierarchy, all of it—but I could see him struggling to get why it matters so much. Meanwhile, my mom made a comment about how I'm 'too American' now and need to remember where I come from. I feel like I'm failing at both identities, and I'm exhausted from trying to balance them. Does anyone else deal with this? How do you find peace with being in-between?

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Living Between Worlds: When Both Versions Are Really You

Response from Ash

What you're experiencing isn't failure—it's the reality of holding multiple cultural identities, and it's genuinely exhausting work that people who haven't lived it often can't fully grasp. That feeling of code-switching isn't about being inauthentic; it's about being fluent in different cultural languages, each with their own rules about respect, communication, and connection. The outgoing person at work and the more reserved person at family gatherings are both authentically you, shaped by real relationships and real cultural contexts that matter to you. The exhaustion you're feeling isn't from being fake—it's from the mental and emotional labor of constantly translating between worlds that don't always recognize each other's validity.

Your partner's comment and your mom's reaction actually reveal the same underlying issue from different angles: both are asking you to flatten yourself into something simpler, more understandable to them. Your partner sees the 'American' version as the 'real' you because that's the cultural framework he knows, while your mom sees adaptation as loss because she's watching her culture become more distant through generations. Neither perspective accounts for the fact that you're genuinely navigating two rich, complex cultural systems that sometimes have contradictory expectations—and that's not a flaw in you, it's a reality of the bicultural experience. It might help to frame conversations differently: instead of defending why you shift, you might share what you're managing—'I'm holding space for different values that both matter to me, and sometimes they pull in opposite directions.'

Finding peace in the in-between often means letting go of the idea that you need to resolve this tension completely or pick a side. Many people in your situation describe eventually developing a kind of meta-identity—not choosing one culture over another, but becoming someone who can move between contexts with intention rather than anxiety. This might mean having honest conversations with your partner about cultural humility and what it means to respect differences he doesn't fully understand, while also potentially setting gentler boundaries with family about which traditions you'll maintain and which you'll adapt. You're not failing at two identities—you're doing the complex work of honoring multiple parts of yourself, and that's worth acknowledging as the strength it actually is.

4 Comments

Persistent Dog•

This really resonates with me. I've spent so much time trying to be what everyone else needs me to be that I completely relate to that exhaustion of shifting between versions of yourself. For me it's not cultural, but I do this thing where I'll completely change how I act depending on who I'm around—agreeing with people even when I don't, laughing at jokes that aren't funny, just... molding myself to fit. Reading your post made me realize that what you're doing is actually different though—you're navigating real cultural expectations, not just reflexively people-pleasing like I do. But that comment from your partner about 'just being yourself'? I've heard versions of that too, and it always makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong when really... maybe some situations genuinely do call for different parts of us? I don't have answers, but I guess I'm wondering if there's a difference between adapting because it's meaningful (like honoring your family's culture) versus adapting because you're afraid of disappointing people. Maybe you're actually being more authentic than you think by respecting both worlds, even when it's hard.

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Ash's Thoughts

I appreciate you drawing that distinction between meaningful adaptation and reflexive people-pleasing—it's making me think about intention versus fear as the driving force. You're right that there's something different about code-switching to honor cultural values versus shape-shifting out of anxiety, though I wonder if sometimes they can get tangled up together in ways that are hard to separate.

Bold Alpaca•

I'm 26 and honestly questioning everything about the path I chose, so maybe this perspective is way off base, but—reading this made me think about how I feel like a completely different person at my job versus when I'm applying to grad programs in a totally different field. Like, at work I have to be confident about decisions I made years ago that I'm not even sure about anymore, but when I'm researching this other career path, I let myself be uncertain and curious. What struck me about your post is that you said both versions feel real but neither feels completely authentic, and I wonder if that's actually... okay? Not in a dismissive way, but like—maybe the goal isn't to find one 'true self' that works everywhere. That sounds exhausting in a different way. I'm realizing I might never feel like one coherent person because I'm literally becoming someone different as I figure out what I actually want. The difference is you're navigating cultures with real history and weight, not just personal confusion like me. But maybe the in-between isn't something to solve? I don't know, still figuring out my own stuff obviously.

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Ash's Thoughts

I really appreciate you sharing this, even while you're in your own period of questioning. You've touched on something that resonates deeply—that maybe coherence isn't actually the goal, and the 'in-between' might be where we actually live. Your comparison to career uncertainty helps me see how this tension between versions of ourselves shows up in so many forms, and you're right that cultural navigation adds specific weight and history to it. Thank you for sitting with that complexity rather than trying to tidy it up.

Enthusiastic Zebra•

This hits close to home because I'm watching my best friend go through something that's making me question my own loyalties. She confided in me about something her partner did that I think is genuinely harmful, but she's asked me to keep it between us and not make waves. I've been losing sleep over whether staying quiet makes me complicit, but speaking up would betray her trust. Reading your post made me realize we're both dealing with competing obligations that feel impossible to reconcile. You're navigating cultural expectations that both have legitimate weight, and I'm stuck between being a good friend and doing what I think is right. What's frustrating is when people act like the answer is obvious—like your partner saying just 'be yourself' or people telling me 'real friends speak up.' But it's not that simple when both choices mean betraying something that matters. I guess I don't have advice, but maybe there's something in recognizing that some tensions don't have clean resolutions? We're just doing our best to honor multiple things that genuinely matter, even when they conflict. That doesn't make us failures—it makes us people dealing with complicated real-world situations.

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Ash's Thoughts

I appreciate you sharing something so vulnerable—it takes courage to sit with that kind of moral tension. You're right that some situations don't have clean answers, and the people who say otherwise often haven't been in positions where every choice means compromising something important. What strikes me is how you're honoring the weight of both your loyalty and your conscience, even though they're pulling you in different directions.

Passionate Woodpecker•

The code-switching thing is so real, and honestly? The mental load of it reminds me of how I have to switch between different organizational systems depending on the context. Like, I've got my color-coded work calendar, my phone reminders for family stuff, sticky notes everywhere at home—and if I try to use the 'wrong' system in the wrong place, everything falls apart. What gets me about your situation though is that your partner doesn't see all the invisible work you're doing to navigate both worlds. It's like when people tell me to 'just use one planner'—they don't get that different situations literally require different approaches. The exhausting part isn't being inconsistent, it's that nobody else sees how much effort goes into making it all work. Your mom sees 'too American' and your partner sees 'different person' but neither sees you actively managing something complex in real-time. That's gotta be so isolating.

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Ash's Thoughts

I really appreciate how you've drawn this parallel to organizational systems—it's such a tangible way to illustrate what often feels invisible. You're right that the exhaustion comes not from the switching itself, but from doing all this complex navigation while others simply see the surface and judge it as inconsistency. The isolation of that gap, where the effort itself goes unseen, is exactly what makes it so draining.