A Different Kind of Post: My Journey Back to Thailand.
(Above Image: Sunset behind a lotus pond in my village in Surin, Thailand)
After seven years away, I returned to Thailand—not just to visit, but to heal, reconnect, and rewrite the story I left behind. What unfolded was part grief, part joy, and wholly transformative. This is the journey back to my roots—and to myself.
Coming Back to the Place That Never Left Me
Now, as I prepare for another trip in just a few weeks, the meaning runs even deeper. This time, I’ll be bringing my children to see Thailand for the first time. I’ll be documenting the food, the culture, and the quiet everyday moments that make this place so special.
But more than anything, I want them to feel it. To stand where I once stood. To know where they come from. Because this isn’t just a vacation.
It’s a return to the heart of who we are.
The last time I was “home” was for my mother’s funeral.
But before I go on, I should tell you something important.
I have three mothers.
The Three Women Who Shaped My Life
My first mother was a young Thai woman who gave birth to me in Bangkok. I was born out of wedlock to a Thai mother and an American soldier she never saw again. She gave me to her sister when I was an infant, believing I’d have a better life in someone else’s care. She was my birth mother.
My second mother—the one who raised me—is my aunt, Bunsee. She took me in as a baby and raised me in a leprosy village in rural northeast Thailand, in the province of Surin. She and my uncle both had leprosy. They lived in a government-run colony and raised me with love, dignity, and resilience—despite the stigma, isolation, and hardship they faced daily.
My third mother is an American woman who brought me to the U.S. when I was 13. We met when she visited my village with a leprosy doctor named Dr. K. She saw something in me—this shy, half-Thai, half-white girl who never quite fit in—and decided to take action. With courage and compassion, she fought to bring me to America so I could have a safer, more stable future. That journey was spurred by more than kindness—Dr. K had warned her that a corrupt local official was trying to groom me at just 9 years old.
My birth mother and my aunt gave their blessing. They knew I’d have better chances elsewhere. And so, I left everything I’d known to begin a new life in America.
Each of these women shaped me in different ways. Each of them played a part in the story I carry today.
A Long Absence, A Heavy Return
It had been seven years since I last stepped foot in Thailand—a stretch of time that felt like forever. Before that, I had returned often—sometimes three or four times a year. But this time, motherhood, military moves, grief, and life’s heaviness kept me away.
The last time I was there, it was to say goodbye to my second mother, Bunsee. She had battled leprosy for most of her life, and in her final years, her health declined slowly and painfully. She was the woman who raised me, who loved me like her own. Losing her was losing a piece of my foundation.
But that trip didn’t just bring the loss of one mother. It was a season of profound heartbreak.
Three Losses, One Unforgettable Season
In December 2012, my adopted brother Scotty—from Vietnam—passed away in a tragic car accident at just 24 years old. Just weeks later, in January 2013, I found out I was pregnant with my first child. Amid so much loss, that little heartbeat brought a spark of hope.
Then came February.
We received word that Bunsee, my second mom, was declining quickly. My husband and I flew to Thailand within days. I was able to hold her hand, say my goodbyes, and honor her life during a beautiful village funeral.
The day after we laid her to rest, I had an ultrasound in a nearby city hospital. It was there I learned I had miscarried.
In the span of three months, I said goodbye to a mother, a brother, and a child. It was one of the heaviest seasons of my life—and one that deepened my compassion, faith, and understanding of how intertwined grief and love really are.
Survival Mode & Motherhood
Over the next seven years, I carried that grief in silence while navigating military life, long deployments, and becoming a mother. I was eventually blessed with two beautiful children—a son and a daughter—but postpartum depression hit me hard. With no family nearby, constant moves, and the exhaustion of survival mode, I lost touch with many parts of myself—including the one that always longed for home.
Thailand never left my heart. Even through the fog, the pull to return was strong. I wanted my children to experience this part of their story. I wanted to reclaim something I had lost.
A New Reason to Return
Then, last year, my youngest niece called with news that felt like divine timing—she was getting married and wanted me to be there.
Of course we would go.
After years of leaving Thailand with heartbreak, we were finally going back for something joyful. I would return with my children, to the village that raised me, and rewrite the memory of my last visit.
Rewriting the Ending
This trip felt different from the start.
We planned to stay for six weeks in November and December 2019. I would see my family again. My children would walk the same dirt paths I once ran barefoot as a little girl. But this time, I wasn’t just coming home—I was returning to heal.
In the past, each trip back followed the same rhythm: visit the village, see the same faces, eat the same meals, sit in familiar places. And while those routines brought comfort, they also reminded me of all the losses, especially Bunsee.
But this time, I wanted something more.
Seeing Thailand Through New Eyes
I planned to explore more of Thailand than I ever had before. Even though I grew up there, I realized how little of the country I had truly seen. I wanted to experience the beauty of the culture not just as a returning daughter, but as a mother—through the eyes of my children.
They are part of this story, too. This land is a part of them, and I wanted them to feel that connection in their bones.
Why I’m Finally Sharing This
I’ve been nervous to share this story for a long time. Years, really. But healing has a way of nudging you forward—especially when you know someone out there might need to hear it.
Maybe that someone is you.
If you’re reading this, and you're carrying grief, identity struggles, or a complicated past—please know this:
You are not your trauma.
You are not your depression.
You are not the labels others have given you.
You are not what happened to you.
You are a story in motion.
You are GOLD.
You Have Leprosy, but You are Not Leprosy
The people I grew up with still carry the scars of a disease most of the world has forgotten—but leprosy is not who they are. It never was. They are parents, caretakers, farmers, cooks, storytellers, survivors. And you? You’re not your pain either.
You are not your diagnosis.
You’re human. Beautiful. Whole. Becoming.
A Final Word
If you’ve read this far, thank you—for walking with me through this journey. I’m grateful you’re here.
Whether you're here for Thai recipes or stories like this, I hope you’ll stay for both. Because food isn’t just food—it’s memory. It’s healing. It’s home.
With love,
Suwanee
Suwanee says
Thank you so much, Ronnie, for your beautiful words...bring tears to my eyes and it means so much. I'm so happy you are here! (: Blessings to you as well Ka!
Ronnie says
What an incredible story you have. You and your family have overcome so much and being a fellow Thai person, I can relate to some of your story but in different struggles.
You can do what you like and not focus on the past because the past is not you and some of it was not within your control. The only thing that can stop you from living your dream is yourself. Don't believe what others tell you, you can't do! You can do anything you put your mind and soul to and leave the past behind.
It is inspiring to read your story and your hardships. Those hardships are a part of your story but are not your future. We enjoy your recipes and have some similarities in our life stories. My wife and I are glad we found your page.
Keep up the great work and continue sharing them. You are one of those who give hope to others, as some believe they didn't have it. Many blessings to you and your family Suwanee. Thanks again for sharing your story.
Karlin says
As someone else mentioned, I too, just came across your website via Sylvia Fontaine's food blog which is also new to me. I'm soooo glad I found both! I can't describe how much I appreciate your above story & your beautifully gracious words at the end!! I've struggled in many ways over several years, especially this past year (2021-22) but your words are powerful & I just know you have not only deeply touched my heart with your encouragement but hundreds of others as well. Thank you for who you are, God bless you & your loved ones.
Liza says
I just came across your beautiful website via Sylvia Fontaine's (also amazing) site and I'm so happy I did! For the simple reason that it was meant to be, I went strait to this story after scrolling the beautiful photographs on your site. Thank you for sharing your personal life and words of wisdom. It was timed perfectly. I look forward to your weekly emails and cooking your beautiful recipes. gratitude.
Rebecca says
So Sweet Suwanee! I'm so glad you are going back for a joyful occasion. We'll be praying for all of you. I look forward to hearing updates.