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Tuổi 15 – Khi Tôi Học Cách Lớn Lên Một Mình

Bài viết bằng tiếng Việt (English version below)

Có những người lớn lên trong vòng tay của gia đình.

Còn tôi, tôi lớn lên cùng những quyết định của chính mình.

Năm 15 tuổi, tôi rời Việt Nam để sang Úc. Ở cái tuổi mà nhiều bạn còn được ba mẹ chăm sóc từng bữa ăn, nhắc nhở chuyện học hành và che chở trước những khó khăn, tôi bắt đầu học cách tự đứng trên đôi chân của mình ở một đất nước hoàn toàn xa lạ.

Nhìn lại chặng đường ấy, tôi nhận ra rằng những thử thách mình trải qua đã trở thành những người thầy tuyệt vời nhất.

1. Không ai nợ mình điều gì

Cuộc sống không hứa hẹn sẽ công bằng.

Không ai có trách nhiệm phải giúp mình thành công.

Khi chấp nhận điều đó, tôi thôi đổ lỗi cho hoàn cảnh và bắt đầu chịu trách nhiệm hoàn toàn cho cuộc đời mình.

Đó là lúc tôi thực sự trưởng thành.

2. Tự do luôn đi kèm với trách nhiệm

Sống một mình đồng nghĩa với việc mọi quyết định đều là của mình.

Nếu thành công, mình biết ơn những nỗ lực đã bỏ ra.

Nếu thất bại, mình cũng học cách chịu trách nhiệm thay vì tìm người để trách.

Đó là cái giá của sự tự do.

3. Kỷ luật quan trọng hơn động lực

Có rất nhiều ngày tôi không muốn học.

Không muốn làm việc.

Không muốn cố gắng thêm nữa.

Nhưng tôi vẫn tiếp tục.

Động lực sẽ đến rồi đi.

Kỷ luật mới là điều giúp chúng ta tiến xa.

4. Thất bại chỉ là một bài học

Tôi từng bị từ chối.

Từng cảm thấy mình chưa đủ giỏi.

Từng nghi ngờ chính bản thân.

Nhưng mỗi lần vấp ngã đều giúp tôi mạnh mẽ và khiêm tốn hơn.

5. Đừng chỉ xây dựng sự nghiệp, hãy xây dựng chính mình

Công việc rất quan trọng.

Nhưng con người mình trở thành còn quan trọng hơn.

Tôi học yoga.

Tôi học diễn xuất.

Tôi tham gia Toastmasters.

Tôi đọc sách.

Tôi gặp gỡ những con người truyền cảm hứng.

Mỗi trải nghiệm đều giúp tôi hiểu bản thân hơn.

6. So sánh là kẻ đánh cắp niềm vui

Ai cũng có một hành trình riêng.

Tôi không còn cố gắng sống cuộc đời của người khác.

Tôi chỉ cố gắng trở thành phiên bản tốt hơn của chính mình mỗi ngày.

7. Gia đình không chỉ là nơi mình sinh ra

Sống xa quê dạy tôi rằng gia đình còn là những người luôn ở bên mình bằng tình yêu và sự chân thành.

Đôi khi, những người ấy không cùng huyết thống.

Nhưng họ luôn xuất hiện đúng lúc cuộc sống cần nhất.

8. Không bao giờ là quá muộn để bắt đầu

Tôi đã thay đổi nghề nghiệp.

Học thêm nhiều kỹ năng mới.

Theo đuổi những đam mê mới.

Mỗi lần bắt đầu lại không phải là quay về số không.

Mà là bước tiếp với nhiều kinh nghiệm hơn.

9. Thành công là được sống đúng với giá trị của mình

Ngày trước tôi nghĩ thành công là kiếm thật nhiều tiền.

Bây giờ tôi nghĩ thành công là mỗi sáng thức dậy với một cuộc sống có ý nghĩa.

Được giúp đỡ người khác.

Được học hỏi.

Được phát triển.

Được là chính mình.

Lời kết

Nếu có thể nói với cậu bé 15 tuổi năm ấy một điều, tôi sẽ nói:

“Đừng sợ. Con đường phía trước sẽ không dễ dàng. Nhưng chính những ngày tháng khó khăn sẽ tạo nên phiên bản mạnh mẽ nhất của em.”

Hôm nay, tôi biết ơn tất cả những gì mình đã trải qua.

Bởi vì nếu không có cậu bé 15 tuổi dũng cảm năm ấy, sẽ không có tôi của ngày hôm nay.

Cảm ơn bạn đã dành thời gian đọc câu chuyện của tôi.

Chúc bạn luôn đủ can đảm để bước tiếp trên hành trình của riêng mình.

Binh

Age 15 – Learning to Grow Up on My Own

English Version

Some people grow up surrounded by the comfort of family.

I grew up through my own decisions.

At the age of fifteen, I left Vietnam and moved to Australia. While many teenagers still relied on their parents for guidance and support, I was learning how to build a life on my own in a country that felt completely unfamiliar.

Looking back, I realise that life’s greatest lessons never came from a classroom.

They came from experience.

1. Nobody owes you anything

Life isn’t always fair.

No one is responsible for making you successful.

The moment I accepted that, I stopped blaming circumstances and started taking ownership of my life.

That was the beginning of true adulthood.

2. Freedom always comes with responsibility

Living independently means every decision is yours.

When you succeed, you appreciate your hard work.

When you fail, you learn instead of looking for someone else to blame.

That is the price—and the privilege—of freedom.

3. Discipline will always outlast motivation

There were many days I didn’t feel like studying.

Many days I didn’t feel like working.

Many days I wanted to quit.

But I kept going.

Motivation comes and goes.

Discipline is what carries you through.

4. Failure is simply another lesson

I’ve been rejected.

I’ve doubted myself.

I’ve wondered if I was good enough.

Every setback made me stronger, wiser and more humble.

5. Don’t just build a career—build yourself

A successful career is important.

But the person you become matters even more.

I learned yoga.

I studied acting.

I joined Toastmasters.

I read constantly.

I sought out inspiring people.

Every experience shaped who I am today.

6. Comparison steals happiness

Everyone is on a different journey.

I stopped comparing myself to others.

Instead, I focus on becoming a little better than I was yesterday.

7. Family is more than where you come from

Living far from home taught me that family is also the people who genuinely care about you.

They may not share your blood.

But they stand beside you when you need them most.

8. It’s never too late to begin again

I’ve changed careers.

Learned new skills.

Pursued new passions.

Starting over isn’t going back to zero.

It’s beginning again with more wisdom than before.

9. Success is living according to your values

I used to think success meant earning a lot of money.

Today, success means waking up each morning knowing that my life has purpose.

Helping others.

Continuing to learn.

Growing as a person.

Living authentically.

Final Thoughts

If I could speak to my fifteen-year-old self, I would simply say:

“Don’t be afraid. The road ahead won’t be easy, but every challenge will shape you into someone you’ll one day be proud of becoming.”

Today, I am grateful for every struggle, every mistake, and every difficult decision.

Because without that brave fifteen-year-old who stepped onto a plane and left Vietnam, I would not be the person I am today.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

I wish you the courage to keep moving forward on your own journey.

Binh

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What Chess Has Taught Me About Life

I’ve loved chess for as long as I can remember.

I’m not a grandmaster, and I don’t play tournaments every weekend. I simply enjoy the game. Whenever life gets busy, I find myself coming back to the chessboard. It slows me down and reminds me to think.

Over the years, I’ve realised that many of the lessons I’ve learned from chess have quietly shaped the way I live.

The biggest one is this: you can’t control everything.

You can study openings, have a plan, and feel confident about your position. Then your opponent makes a move you never expected. Suddenly, you have to adapt.

Life has been like that for me.

When I moved to Australia as a teenager, I didn’t know where life would take me. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d become a speech pathologist, start my own business, write a book, teach yoga or begin acting in my later years.

None of those things were part of some master plan. They were simply the next move.

One thing chess has also taught me is not to rush.

When I play too quickly, I usually regret it. The moves that look exciting at first often turn out to be the wrong ones. The same has happened in life. Some of my best decisions came after taking time to reflect instead of reacting.

I’ve also learned that losing isn’t something to fear.

I’ve lost plenty of games. Sometimes I knew exactly where I went wrong. Other times I didn’t see my mistake until much later. Instead of getting frustrated, I’ve started asking myself, “What can this game teach me?”

I’ve tried to carry that mindset into everyday life. Not every audition has gone my way. Not every business decision has been perfect. Some ideas have worked beautifully, while others haven’t. Looking back, I’ve probably learned more from the disappointments than the successes.

Another thing I love about chess is that every piece matters.

Most people notice the queen because she’s the strongest piece. But I’ve won games because of a single pawn that quietly made its way across the board. That reminds me not to underestimate the small things.

For instance: reading a few pages each day, practicing yoga even when I don’t feel like it or calling a friend.

Those small habits rarely feel significant in the moment, but over time they change who we become.

Perhaps my favourite lesson is that the game isn’t over until it’s over.

I’ve seen players come back from positions that looked impossible. As long as they kept thinking, there was always another move to make.

I think that’s a comforting thought.

No matter where we are in life, we always have a next move. We can’t change the moves we’ve already made, but we can choose the next one.

Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to chess. It reminds me to slow down, stay curious, accept mistakes, and trust that one thoughtful move is often enough.

Life doesn’t require a perfect strategy. It simply asks us to keep playing.

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Has chess or another hobby taught you something unexpected about life?

Until next time,

Binh

♟️

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10 Lessons I Learnt Living Away From My Family at 15

At 15 years old, I left Vietnam and came to Australia to study.

I still remember the mix of excitement and fear. On one hand, I was grateful for the opportunity to build a better future. On the other, I was leaving behind everything I had ever known, my family, my friends, my language, and my culture.

When you’re 15, most people are worrying about school exams, sports, or what they’re doing on the weekend. I was learning how to navigate a completely new country with limited English and without my family by my side.

Looking back now, I realise that the experience shaped who I am today. It taught me lessons about resilience, independence, and gratitude that no textbook could ever teach.

Here are ten of the most valuable lessons I learnt.

1. You Are Stronger Than You Think

When life becomes difficult, you often discover strengths you never knew you had.

There were many moments when I felt lost, homesick, and overwhelmed. Yet somehow, I kept moving forward. Each challenge I overcame built confidence and resilience.

We are often far more capable than we give ourselves credit for.

2. Growth Happens Outside Your Comfort Zone

Moving to Australia forced me out of my comfort zone every single day.

Everything was unfamiliar. The language sounded different. The culture was different. Even simple daily tasks required courage.

At the time it felt uncomfortable, but looking back, that discomfort became the catalyst for growth.

3. Family Is a Gift

You don’t truly understand the value of family until they are no longer around every day.

Living away from my parents taught me to appreciate their sacrifices. It made me realise how much love and support they had provided throughout my childhood.

Distance created a deeper sense of gratitude.

4. Loneliness Can Teach You Valuable Things

There were times when I felt incredibly alone.

Instead of constantly trying to escape those feelings, I gradually learnt how to sit with them. Loneliness taught me self-reliance, reflection, and emotional resilience.

It also taught me the importance of building meaningful relationships.

5. Communication Is More Than Perfect English

When I arrived in Australia, my English was limited.

There were many times when I couldn’t express myself the way I wanted. It was frustrating and sometimes embarrassing.

Over time, I realised that communication isn’t just about grammar or vocabulary. Confidence, persistence, body language, and a willingness to make mistakes are equally important.

Every conversation became a lesson.

6. Nobody Is Coming to Rescue You

One of the most important lessons I learnt was personal responsibility.

If I wanted better grades, I had to study.

If I wanted opportunities, I had to seek them out.

If I made mistakes, I had to learn from them.

That mindset became one of the foundations of my success later in life.

7. Hard Work Beats Talent

I wasn’t the smartest student in the room. I wasn’t the most confident speaker. I wasn’t naturally gifted at everything I tried.

But I learnt that consistent effort often matters more than natural ability.

Hard work opened doors that might otherwise have remained closed.

8. Failure Is Part of Success

There were plenty of setbacks along the way. I made mistakes. I misunderstood people. I struggled with language and confidence.

At the time, those moments felt like failures. Looking back, they were simply stepping stones.

Every setback taught me something valuable.

9. Your Story Is Your Strength

For a long time, I simply wanted to fit in.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realised that my journey is not something to hide. Being Vietnamese, migrating to Australia, learning a new language, and overcoming challenges have all shaped who I am.

The experiences that once made me feel different are now some of my greatest strengths.

10. Keep Saying Yes to New Experiences

Moving to Australia at 15 taught me that growth often begins with a single brave decision.

Since then, I’ve continued saying yes to new experiences, whether that’s becoming a speech pathologist, starting a business, teaching yoga, performing on stage, competing at Toastmasters, or stepping into an improv class.

Life becomes richer when we’re willing to embrace the unknown.

Final Thoughts

Today, as a speech pathologist, business owner, coach, actor, and lifelong learner, I often think about that 15-year-old boy who left Vietnam and boarded a plane to Australia.

He had no idea what the future would hold. What he did have was courage.

Looking back, I realise that courage isn’t the absence of fear. Courage is taking the next step despite fear.

If you’re facing uncertainty in your own life, remember this: you don’t need to have everything figured out. You simply need to keep moving forward.

The challenges you face today may one day become the very stories that inspire others.

Keep growing, keep learning, and keep moving forward.


Binh

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Building Confidence Through Discomfort

When I was 15, I moved to Australia from Vietnam.

I didn’t speak much English. I remember sitting in class, catching maybe 30% of what was going on… just trying to piece things together.
I definitely didn’t feel confident & felt behind.
And for a long time, I believed what most people believe: Confidence is something you either have… or you don’t.

The Myth of Confidence

We see confident people and think:
“They’re just like that.”
“They’ve always been good at speaking.”
“They’re naturally confident.”
But honestly… that’s rarely true. Confidence isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you build.
I didn’t wake up one day and suddenly feel confident just because my English got better.
It came from doing things that felt uncomfortable over and over again. My first acting class in High School was very uncomfortable. Standing up, using my voice, showing emotion… I felt exposed.
Nothing about that felt “natural.”

What Actually Builds Confidence

Over time, I started noticing something. Confidence wasn’t random. It followed a pattern.

Here are the 3 things that made the biggest difference for me:

1. Repetition

Confidence comes from doing the thing… again and again. Not once. Not twice. Enough times that your brain goes: “Okay… I’ve been here before.”
Whether it’s speaking, performing, or even just sharing your opinion, the first few times are always awkward. But after 10, 20, 50 times? You start to settle into it.

2. Getting Comfortable Being Uncomfortable

Most people avoid the exact thing that would make them more confident such as speaking up, being seen and putting themselves out there.
I kind of forced myself to lean into it: acting classes, auditions, and performing. I wasn’t trying to be amazing but just trying to stay in it… a little longer each time. That’s where the shift happens.

3. Building Actual Skill

Confidence without skill doesn’t last. Real confidence comes from knowing: “I’ve put in the work.” The more I trained in acting, communication and coaching, the more solid I felt. Not fake confidence. Not hype. Just… grounded confidence.

A Moment That Changed Everything

I recently performed in Bobbin Up. On closing night, something clicked. I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t trying to “act confident.” I just slowed everything down.
In one of the main scenes — the hotel scene — I felt completely in control.
And the thing is… that didn’t come from nowhere.
It came from all the rehearsals, all the line runs, all the small details I worked on. That’s what confidence actually looks like. Not loud. Not forced. Just… there.

What You Can Do (Starting This Week)

If you’re waiting to feel confident before you do something… you might be waiting forever.
Try this instead:

  1. Do one uncomfortable thing this week
    Say something. Speak up. Put yourself out there.
  2. Do it again next week, and the week after.
  3. Focus on one small thing, not “be confident” as that’s too vague. Try speaking a bit slower, finishing your sentence clearly, or holding eye contact a bit longer. Small things repeated and that’s how confidence builds.

Final Thought

Confidence isn’t something you find. It’s something you build, one uncomfortable moment at a time.
If you keep stepping into those moments, you’ll realise something:
You were never lacking confidence. You just hadn’t trained it yet.

Keep training and confidence will come! 💪🏽

Binh

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2026: The Year of the Fire Horse

I don’t usually buy into labels for years, but every now and then, something lands and it makes me pause.

2026 is the Year of the Fire Horse – a rare cycle that only comes around every 60 years. Whether you believe in astrology or not, the symbolism feels… accurate.

To me, this doesn’t feel like a slow year. It doesn’t feel like a year for overthinking.

It feels like a year for movement.

The Fire Horse is often described as freedom and strength. Freedom isn’t about quitting everything or burning it all down.

It’s quieter than that.

Freedom is finally saying what you mean, stopping the constant self-editing and choosing what matters instead of what looks good.

It’s not dramatic. It’s honest.

A few years ago, I thought strength meant doing more, working harder, pushing through, and holding it all together.

Now I think strength looks like knowing when to slow down, letting things be unfinished and trusting that you don’t need to prove anything.

This shift didn’t happen overnight. It came from listening to my body, my work, my relationships, and the moments where something felt off even when it “looked right”.

Fire Horse years are meant to be about rapid change, but not the chaotic kind.

It’s more like when something finally clicks, when a decision stops feeling heavy and when you move because you’re ready, not because you’re scared.

I don’t feel the need to reinvent everything in 2026.

I feel the need to commit.

To fewer things.

To clearer values.

To showing up more fully where I already am.

If I had to carry one question into 2026, it would be this:

What would change if I trusted myself a little more?

Not overnight.

Not perfectly.

Just enough to take the next step without talking myself out of it.

Here’s to 2026 🔥

🔥 a year of movement without rushing

🔥 strength without forcing

🔥 and freedom that actually feels like home.

Have a fantastic year, everyone!

Binh

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The Quiet Space Between Years

There’s a strange, gentle pause that lives between Christmas and New Year.

The emails slow.

The noise softens.

Time feels less demanding.

It’s not quite the end, and not quite the beginning.

And I think we rush this space too often.

We’re quick to label the year as good or bad.

We want neat summaries, clean lessons, tidy growth.

But real life isn’t bullet-pointed.

Some things this year were clear wins.

Some were quiet losses no one else noticed.

Some are still unfinished and that doesn’t mean they failed.

I’ve learned that reflection doesn’t always need answers.

Sometimes it just needs honesty.

Not What did I achieve?

But What did I carry?

What did I carry when things felt uncertain?

What did I carry when motivation dipped?

Growth isn’t always loud.

Often it looks like staying.

Like pausing.

Like choosing not to quit on yourself.

As this year closes, I’m not rushing to redesign my life.

I’m simply acknowledging it.

The effort.

The stretch.

The stillness.

The becoming.

If you’re reading this in that in-between space – tired, reflective, hopeful, unsure, then you’re exactly where you need to be.

You don’t need a new version of yourself by midnight.

You don’t need a perfect plan.

You’re allowed to arrive in the new year as you are.

Quietly.

Honestly.

Intact.

Wishing you a steady and kind year ahead.

Bình

Krabi, Thailand
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Why I Don’t Do New Year Resolutions Anymore

Every January, we’re encouraged to reset our lives.

New habits.

New goals.

A better version of ourselves.

For a long time, I played along. But over time, I’ve stepped away from New Year resolutions, not because growth doesn’t matter, but because the way we frame change matters more than we realise.

Resolutions are built on pressure.

Most resolutions rely on discipline and willpower, as if these are unlimited resources. They rarely account for fatigue, emotional load, unexpected events, or the complexity of real life.

When a resolution falls apart, the story becomes personal: I didn’t try hard enough.

Rarely do we question whether the plan itself was realistic.

A calendar date doesn’t create readiness.

Change doesn’t happen because the year changed.

Readiness comes from awareness, capacity, timing, and support. January can be reflective, quiet, or simply about regaining balance. Expecting transformation on demand ignores how change actually works.

The all-or-nothing trap!

Resolutions often create rigid rules.

Miss a day, and the momentum disappears. Miss a week, and the resolution feels broken. This pattern leads to guilt, then avoidance, rather than sustainable growth.

Real change is adaptive, not absolute.

What I choose instead:

Instead of resolutions, I choose direction.

Direction allows flexibility. It adjusts to hard weeks and changing circumstances.

Rather than asking “What must I achieve?” I ask: What do I want more of this year? What do I want less of? What needs protecting?

This creates movement without pressure.

Process over outcomes.

Outcomes are visible. Processes are transformative.

Rather than focusing on end results, I pay attention to:

How I structure my days. How I speak to myself. How I respond when plans change. How I return after pauses.

These shifts may look small, but they’re the ones that last.

A gentler alternative:

If resolutions don’t sit right with you, try this instead:

This year, I’m committed to supporting myself by ______.

For instance:

This year, I’m committed to supporting myself by…

…protecting my energy as carefully as my time.

…choosing consistency over intensity.

…allowing progress to be uneven without judging it.

No deadlines.

No streaks.

No failure.

Just intention and responsiveness.

Moving into the year differently.

You don’t need to reinvent yourself in January.

You don’t need a dramatic plan.

You need something that respects your capacity and allows growth at a human pace.

“Change happens not when we push harder, but when we listen more closely.”

Have a fantastic year ahead! 💫

Bình

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12 Lessons 2025 Taught Me

From acting, business, pole, yoga, travel, and relationships

2025 wasn’t a year of dramatic reinvention.

It was a year of refinement.

It’s a year where different parts of my life – acting, running a business, pole, yoga, travel, and relationships quietly started talking to each other. Patterns repeated. Lessons echoed. And slowly, things began to integrate.

Here are 12 lessons 2025 taught me.

1. Craft beats talent every time

Acting reminded me of this daily.

Talent might get you noticed, but craft keeps you grounded, employable, and calm under pressure. The same applies to business, teaching, and even relationships as showing up prepared is an act of respect.

2. Consistency matters more than intensity

Pole training taught me that dramatic bursts lead to burnout.

Slow, steady practice especially on the days I didn’t feel like it created real progress. The body remembers what the ego forgets.

3. Boundaries are a form of generosity

In business, clearer boundaries didn’t reduce connection – they improved it.

Clients felt safer. I felt less depleted. Saying no early prevented resentment later.

4. Strength without softness is incomplete

Yoga reminded me that flexibility isn’t weakness.

The strongest shapes came when I stopped forcing and started listening on the mat and in life.

5. You don’t need to be everything to everyone

Acting rooms, auditions, and creative spaces reinforced this truth.

The goal isn’t to be right for everyone but to be specific. The right people find you when you stop trying to blend in.

6. Rest is productive even when it looks like nothing

Some of my best ideas arrived after pauses, not pushes.

Travel days, quiet mornings, moments of stillness – they weren’t wasted time. They were incubation.

7. Your body tells the truth faster than your mind

Pole and yoga made this undeniable.

Tension, fatigue, resistance – these signals appeared before my thoughts caught up. Learning to listen saved me from pushing past my limits unnecessarily.

8. Systems create freedom

In business, structure wasn’t restrictive – it was liberating.

Clear systems meant fewer decisions, less mental clutter, and more energy for creativity and connection.

9. Not every relationship is meant to last forever

Some relationships are seasonal.

2025 taught me to honour what was shared without forcing longevity. Letting go gracefully became a skill not a failure.

10. Confidence grows through repetition not affirmation

Whether on stage, on the pole, or in front of a room – confidence arrived after doing the thing many times, imperfectly.

11. Travel teaches humility

Different cultures, languages, and rhythms reminded me how small and connected we all are.

Travel softened my judgments and widened my patience.

12. Integration is the real work

The biggest lesson of 2025 wasn’t found in any single area.

It was in noticing how everything overlaps.

Acting sharpened my presence

Yoga grounded my nervous system

Pole strengthened my discipline

Business clarified my values

Relationships mirrored my growth

Travel expanded my perspective

Nothing existed in isolation anymore.

Closing reflection

2025 didn’t ask me to become someone new.

It asked me to become more whole.

Less proving.

More trusting.

Less rushing.

More listening.

And if there’s one thing I’m carrying into the next year, it’s this

Growth doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like alignment.

Thank you for reading. I hope that these lessons have been helpful and in some ways reflective of your year too!

Wishing you and your loved ones good health and a fantastic year ahead!

Bình

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Why I Love Being a Polymath

People sometimes ask me, “How do you do so many things?”

My honest answer: I don’t know how NOT to.

I’ve never been someone who fits neatly into one box. I’m a speech pathologist, a writer, a life coach, an actor, a yoga teacher, an ESL educator, a business owner, and yes, someone who hangs upside down on a pole for fun.

And somehow… it all makes perfect sense to me.

Being a polymath feels like living in colour. Every skill I learn feeds another part of my life. Every curiosity becomes a doorway. Every new passion adds a layer to who I am and how I show up in the world.

Speech Pathology taught me to communicate with purpose

Working with kids and families has given me the deepest understanding of communication, not just the mechanics, but the heart behind it. Helping someone speak, read, learn, or connect unlocks something inside me too.

Life coaching taught me to listen, REALLY listen

Coaching helped me tune in to people’s dreams, fears, habits, and patterns. It made me a better therapist, a better friend, and honestly, a better human. It’s one of the skills that anchors everything else I do.

Acting taught me to feel everything fully

Acting is where I get to be bold, expressive, vulnerable, and creative in ways everyday life doesn’t always allow. It’s helped me understand characters, emotions, humanity – which loops right back into my coaching and therapy work.

Writing taught me to make sense of the world

Words are how I process life. From “The Speakable Child” to the new projects I’m creating, writing lets me turn ideas into stories, and stories into something useful for someone else.

Yoga taught me to breathe and soften

Yoga balances the fire. It reminds me to slow down, feel my body, and come back to myself, something all polymaths need because our brains can be like hummingbirds.

Pole art taught me strength, discipline, and play

Pole is where I surprise myself the most. The strength, the flow, the artistry; it’s a celebration of being human. It’s creative and athletic at the same time, and it’s one of the places where I feel the most free.

Business taught me courage

Speakable didn’t build itself. It took years of ideas, risks, failures, and growth. Being an entrepreneur showed me that creativity isn’t just an art; it’s a strategy.

What I love most about being a polymath

It’s not the titles or the skills.

It’s the way everything overlaps.

My acting improves my communication coaching.

My coaching improves my therapy.

My therapy work gives depth to my writing.

My writing clears my mind for yoga.

Yoga strengthens my discipline for pole.

Pole energises me for everything else.

It’s all connected like a tapestry of passions that weave together into one life.

I love being a polymath because it lets me be all of me.

Not half. Not one slice.

All.

And if there’s one message I hope people take from my journey, it’s this:

You don’t need to choose one dream.

You’re allowed to choose many and let them shape you into something extraordinary.

Binh

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🎬 What Screen Acting Has Taught Me About Life, Communication & Courage

In 2024, when I first stepped into a screen-acting class at Darlo Drama, I thought I was simply learning how to perform for a camera. I didn’t realise I was stepping into a new training ground for presence, vulnerability, and connection – lessons that would ripple into my work as a speech pathologist, a coach, and even my everyday life.

Here are the biggest lessons screen acting has taught me:

1. Stillness Speaks Loudly

On screen, even the smallest movement matters. A slight eyebrow raise, the softening of a shoulder, a breath.

Screen acting trained me to slow down, to let a moment land, and to communicate without rushing.

This same stillness now helps me:

listen more deeply to clients, hold space in sessions and stay grounded in intense conversations.

In real life, stillness isn’t emptiness – it’s power.

2. Authenticity Reads Better Than Performance

The camera always knows when you’re pretending.

To deliver a truthful performance, you must strip away the masks, the rehearsed patterns, the “perfect” version of yourself and instead lead with honesty.

This has shaped how I teach communication:

Kids open up faster when I am real with them.

Parents trust me when I speak from the heart.

Teen clients relax when they feel seen, not analyzed.

Acting reminded me that people connect most with what is true.

3. Vulnerability Isn’t Weakness – It’s Courage

Screen scenes often require you to tap into fear, anger, grief, joy, or embarrassment on cue.

It’s emotional gymnastics.

To do that, you must access your own emotional truth and allow others to witness it.

Stepping into vulnerability on camera has made me braver in daily life:

asking for help, expressing boundaries, admitting mistakes and sharing my own stories.

Vulnerability creates trust. Trust creates connection.

4. You Learn to Fail Fast and Try Again

In acting, most takes “don’t work.”

You forget a line.

The emotion doesn’t land.

Your eye line is off.

Someone sneezes on set.

You just breathe and go again.

This resilience has flowed into everything I do especially business. Every idea, script, resource, workshop, or video is simply another “take.” If it doesn’t land, I reset and try again.

Failure isn’t failure.

It’s rehearsal.

5. Presence Over Perfection

A perfectly delivered line doesn’t matter if you’re disconnected.

But a messy line delivered with heart?

That’s magic.

Screen acting taught me:

to stay present instead of perfect, to listen instead of planning my next move, to drop into the moment instead of controlling it.

This has made me a stronger communicator, therapist, teacher, and performer.

6. Creativity Expands You

You never know what a script will ask of you:

A whisper.

A scream.

A heartbreak.

A transformation.

You stretch into new emotional shapes.

You play.

You experiment.

You become more you.

Every class reminds me that creativity is not a luxury but nourishment.

7. The Camera Teaches You Who You Really Are

When you watch yourself on screen, you see:

your habits, your strengths, your insecurities, your presence and your blind spots.

It’s confronting and incredibly liberating.

You learn to accept yourself more fully.

You learn to love the parts you once criticised.

You learn that expression is not about looking perfect but it’s about being true.

Final Thoughts

Screen acting has become more than a hobby for me. It’s a mirror, a teacher, and a form of therapy.

It has made me:

a stronger communicator, a more grounded teacher, a more compassionate clinician, a more courageous artist and a more authentic human.

I went into acting to learn performance.

I came out learning presence.

Thanks to my teachers and acting partners for pushing me and working with me. It’s an ongoing journey of learning! And thank YOU for reading my blog. xx

Bình