Why Living Abroad Can Make You Feel Less Competent Than You Really Are

When people think about moving abroad, they usually expect a learning curve. There’s often a new language, a different culture, and new systems to figure out.

What they don’t always expect is how much that experience can affect the way they see themselves; not just in practical terms, but on a deeper level.

This is something that often goes unnoticed until you’re in it: 

Your sense of competence is closely tied to your ability to express yourself.

Before I moved to France, I never really thought about that connection.

Language was just something I used. It didn’t occur to me that it was also shaping how I experienced myself in the world.

In my native language, I felt comfortable. I could explain things clearly, react quickly in conversations, and express ideas without having to think too much about how to form them. If I wanted to make a joke or add something light to a conversation, it came naturally. It wasn’t something I questioned.

Then I moved abroad, and that ease disappeared almost overnight.

I could still communicate, albeit with a little difficulty. I eventually learned how to handle day-to-day situations, have conversations, and do what I needed to do, but something felt different.

Conversations took more effort. I had to think before speaking, simplify what I wanted to say, and sometimes let things go altogether because I couldn’t find the right words quickly enough.

And over time, I started to notice something: I didn’t feel as confident as I used to. That feeling of being less competent living abroad can be hard to explain until you’ve experienced it yourself. But what I didn’t understand at the time is this:

Nothing was wrong with me. I hadn’t lost my ability. I’d lost my ease of expression.

When you move abroad, your intelligence doesn’t drop; your ability to express it gets temporarily restricted. And when that happens, it creates the illusion of incompetence, and because you experience that every day, it starts to feel real.

There were moments where I understood something perfectly but struggled to explain it clearly. Moments where I had an idea, but couldn’t express it with the same precision or confidence I was used to. And that creates a strange disconnect, because you know what you’re capable of, but it doesn’t always come across that way, to others or even to yourself.

I also noticed how much this affected my personality in conversations. In English, I’ve always been someone who enjoys those small, quick exchanges. I like making people laugh; it’s part of how I connect with others.

But in French, for a long time, that part of me didn’t really show up. Humor requires timing and it requires ease. And when you’re still constructing sentences in your head, that ease just isn’t there.

I remember sitting in conversations at work, thinking of something I could say that would normally feel effortless…and then just not saying it. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t quite get there in time.

It’s not just that you can’t find the right words. It’s that the version of you that knows how to connect, suddenly isn’t available. And that’s where it becomes unsettling, because it stops feeling like a language issue, and starts feeling like a “you” issue.

After a while, I started speaking less. It wasn’t necessarily obvious to others, but enough that I could feel it. I was still present, still engaged, but I wasn’t participating in the same way I would have before.

And that’s where the feeling of being “muted” started to come in. It wasn’t that I had become a quieter person…it was that I didn’t have full access to how I expressed myself.

I think this is something a lot of expats and immigrants experience, even if they don’t always talk about it. When your language skills are limited, your ability to show who you are becomes limited too. And because we’re so used to equating how we express ourselves with who we are, it’s easy to start feeling like a “reduced" version of yourself: less articulate, less witty, less…you (even when none of that is actually true).

Looking back, I can roughly break this experience into three phases:

1. Compression: You can’t express yourself fully.

2. Distortion: You start questioning your competence and who you are.

3. Reintegration: Your expression begins to return, in a new and often deeper way.

I remember one moment very clearly that shifted something for me. I was at work, in a conversation with my colleagues, and I said something slightly funny. Not by accident (or because I used the wrong word, which happened on occasion).

I said it intentionally, and they laughed. The conversation moved on to something else right away, but I remember feeling like I had hit a mini-milestone in that brief second, realizing that what I said landed exactly the way I meant it to.

I didn’t react or make anything of it in the moment, but when I got home that evening, you’d better believe I gave myself a little pat on the back. It wasn’t the kind of thing that anyone else would notice or care about, but one that mattered to me. Because it meant that something had come back; a part of me that hadn’t been fully accessible was starting to show up again.

That’s the part of this experience that takes time. You can learn to function in another language relatively quickly. You can understand, respond, manage your daily life. But feeling like yourself in that language is something else entirely. That develops more slowly.

It’s also the part most people try to push through on their own. They focus on learning the language, but don’t realize they’re also rebuilding their identity. And most people aren’t prepared for that part.

The way we speak is tied to years of experience. It’s shaped by how we think, how we connect, how we react in the moment. When you move abroad, you’re not just learning new words. You’re learning how to express yourself again, and that process isn’t just practical. It’s deeply personal.

If you’re in that stage now, where you feel like only part of you is coming through, it can be frustrating in a way that’s hard to explain to others. You know there’s more of “you” there; you just can’t always access it yet.

But that changes. It may change slowly over time, and without much fanfare, but it changes. You’ll eventually find yourself speaking more easily. You’ll react more naturally. You'll say something without overthinking it, and it sounds right.

And then it happens again. Until one day, you’re in a conversation and you recognize yourself in it. Maybe not perfectly and maybe not exactly in the same way as before, but enough to know that you’re back.

Nothing was lost, but something is being rebuilt. And that process deserves more attention than most people give it.

Because this isn’t just about adapting to a new country.

It’s about learning how to be yourself again…in a completely new environment.

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If this resonated with you, you’re in great company. This is something many people experience when they move abroad, but it’s not always talked about in this way.

I share more reflections like this, along with practical insights on navigating the emotional and identity side of life abroad, over on Facebook & Instagram.

If you’re in that in-between stage and want support, perspective, or simply to feel a little less alone in it, you’re welcome to join me there.