We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Emily Soukhanouvong a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Emily, thanks for joining us today. Do you think your parents have had a meaningful impact on you and your journey?

I come from a family of immigrant parents who came to the U.S. from Laos during their teenage years, amid the aftermath of the Vietnam War. As their child, I grew up in a household layered with multiple cultural identities, often navigating the complex tension of being “American enough,” “Lao enough,” or “Asian enough.” These experiences shaped not only my identity, but also my passion for diversity, my understanding of adversity, and my comfort with nuance. They helped me sit with the complexities of what it means to exist as a human being—especially with a minority identity. This perspective has deeply informed my work as a psychologist. When I meet with someone in my office, I strive to honor that their worldview and life experiences don’t fit neatly into categories or labels—they deserve to be seen in their full, nuanced humanity.

While that deep appreciation for diversity is a cornerstone of who I am as a therapist, there’s another lesson from my parents that might seem more subtle but has had just as powerful an impact: the humility to ask for help and the value of connecting with community.

It might not sound profound at first, but I still remember a quiet moment when I was about 10 years old, sitting with my dad as he helped me with math homework. He paused, looked at me, and said, “There will be a time I won’t be able to help you anymore [with school]… and you will know more than me. But I’ll be there to find someone who can.”

I don’t think I fully understood it at the time, but looking back, that moment planted a seed. It gave me a glimpse into the limitations my parents faced as they navigated life in a new country—often without the privilege of language fluency, access, or familiarity with systems. And yet, they always made it a point to connect, to ask for help when needed, and to support others in return. That humility, that openness, became a quiet but powerful model for me.

I saw it play out in countless ways. Whether it was helping a “cousin” cook for a wedding or funeral, translating at immigration interviews or doctor’s appointments, or staying behind to clean up the temple after Lao New Year festivals, my parents were always showing up. I remember when they humbly asked relatives to help fund my study abroad trip—something I know wasn’t easy for them to do. But they believed in the power of community and in showing up for one another.

That belief now shapes how I show up in my work. I make it a point to be honest with clients when I don’t have all the answers. But I also let them know that I’m here—to walk alongside them, to do the research, and to help them find the resources they need. That same value of humility and connection is one of the reasons I strongly believe in consultation—not just as a best practice for clinical work, but as a way to grow, support others, and navigate the often ambiguous nature of our profession. (It’s probably also why I’m on three different consultation teams!)

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

Hello, I’m Emily Soukhanouvong, Psy.D and I am a psychologist who provides individual and group therapy at a group private practice at ChangeWell Psych. My journey into this field began with a deep curiosity about human behavior, especially through a multicultural lens. Growing up in a multicultural household as a Southeast Asian American, it felt natural—almost intuitive—to explore the complexities of identity, relationships, and lived experience. That curiosity eventually grew into a calling: to hold space for others and use sound, evidence-based therapeutic approaches to help people live more meaningful lives.

I wouldn’t say I “solve problems” for my clients in the traditional sense. Rather, I see my role as a guide—someone who helps clarify what’s going on, troubleshoots roadblocks, and offers different tools or perspectives when clients feel stuck in patterns that contribute to their suffering. Sometimes that means honoring where they come from, sometimes it’s helping them develop insight, and often it’s supporting them in making intentional, values-based changes.
One of the things I’m most proud of is being part of a team that not only serves clients but also supports the broader local therapist community. Alongside one of my colleagues, I helped launch a multicultural consultation team. It’s a space where we support one another by honoring our varied identities, lived experiences, and cultural backgrounds. The goal is to deepen our collective ability to serve clients with more cultural attunement, humility, and care.

At the core of my work is a belief in community, connection, and continuous growth—for both my clients and myself. If there’s one thing I’d want potential clients, collaborators, or community members to know about me, it’s that I approach therapy not just as a profession, but as a meaningful, human practice rooted in authenticity, curiosity, and care.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

That attending to my clients’ needs doesn’t mean people-pleasing or saying the “perfect” thing.

This lesson is deeply tied to my background as the American-born, parentified eldest daughter of immigrant parents. I grew up speaking English more fluently than my parents, which meant I often took on the role of explaining and translating—not just language, but culture and emotions, too. I internalized the belief that I needed to be articulate and get things “just right” for others to understand me. That sense of responsibility followed me into graduate school, where I was being trained in clinical listening.

I remember feeling so much pressure in those early years—to say the “right” thing, the insightful thing, the thing that would somehow unlock everything for my clients. That pressure became a source of stress and self-doubt. But over time, something shifted. There were moments where I felt like I had said something really profound, and the client barely reacted. Then there were moments where I fumbled and said something simple—almost mundane—and the client would break down in tears.

Those moments forced me to pause and reflect: Am I really showing up in the room? Is my obsession with saying the “right” thing getting in the way of what actually matters in this work?

While I still wrestle with the perfectionist in me, I’ve learned to soften my inner critic and lean into compassion. I’ve learned that the most powerful work often happens when I let go of control, stay grounded, and simply show up as a human being with another human being. That’s where the real connection happens.

Training and knowledge matter of course, but beyond that what do you think matters most in terms of succeeding in your field?

Time and time again in the mental health field, you find yourself in a role that requires you to be “on”—fully present, attentive, and doing deep, meaningful work (and sometimes surface-level work, too). It’s incredibly rewarding, and I’m fortunate to be in a field I genuinely love, surrounded by people I vibe with and trust. But it does come with a cost—mentally, emotionally, and even physically—especially when the work stretches beyond the therapy room, like writing notes after hours or holding emotional space long after the session ends.

One of the most helpful qualities I’ve developed is the ability to be flexible and responsive. Because we’re working with humans, not machines, being able to “go with it” and adapt in the moment is critical. That flexibility has helped me stay grounded, more present, and more effective in sessions. I’ve noticed that when I approach the work with this kind of openness, the quality of my sessions improves.

At the same time, that kind of flexibility needs to be balanced with an awareness of my own limits. Over time, I’ve become more attuned to what balance and pacing look like for me—which may not be the same for someone else. That self-awareness shows up in small but intentional choices: saying no to taking on clients when I don’t have capacity, consulting with trusted colleagues who will gently call me out if I’m doing too much, or designing my schedule in a way that supports sustainability. (For example, I don’t see clients on Mondays and I build two-hour breaks into the middle of my workday.)
It’s not a perfect system, but it helps me show up more fully and mitigates the burnout that’s so common in this field.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://changewellpsych.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/changewellpsych/
• Other: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists/emily-soukhanouvong-charlotte-nc/1188395

Image Credits

Glau