You moved abroad for adventure, opportunity, or love. Maybe all three. So why does it feel so hard to admit that some days, you're not okay?
I hear this all the time in my counselling practice. And I recognise it because I've lived it. I've been an expat for over 30 years, across four countries and three continents. I've built lives from scratch more times than I can count. And for a long time, I believed that struggling meant I was doing something wrong.
It took me years to understand that the opposite is true. Struggling is part of the experience. The problem isn't that you're finding it hard. The problem is that nobody tells you it's supposed to be hard.
The independence trap
Think about the qualities that got you abroad in the first place. Independence. Courage. Resilience. The ability to figure things out on your own, even when nothing makes sense and the bureaucracy feels designed to break you. You've navigated foreign healthcare systems, found housing in impossible markets, learned to read a room in a language that isn't yours.
These qualities are real, and they've served you well. But they can also become a trap. Because when the loneliness creeps in, or the anxiety starts building, or your relationship begins to crack under the weight of all the change, you tell yourself: I should be able to handle this. Other people seem fine. What's wrong with me?
Nothing is wrong with you. Living abroad is one of the most psychologically complex experiences a person can have. Struggling with it doesn't make you weak. It makes you human.
The "lucky" narrative
There's a story that follows expats everywhere: you're so lucky. And in many ways, you are. But that narrative creates a kind of emotional cage. If everyone keeps telling you how wonderful your life is, how do you say, actually, I'm not okay?
I've written about this in The Invisible Partner, where I talk about the expat spouse who gives up everything and is told how fortunate they are. The same dynamic applies to any expat. People back home see the Instagram version of your life, the sunny piazzas and weekend trips. They don't see the Tuesday afternoon when you sit in your apartment and cry because you have nobody to call.
Many expats carry quiet guilt about their struggles. They compare themselves to people who didn't have the chance to live abroad, or to refugees who had no choice. They minimise their own pain because they feel they don't have the right to it.
But pain isn't a competition. Your experience is valid, and your struggles deserve attention regardless of how they compare to someone else's.
When your support network is far away
When you live in your home country, you usually have a network. Family nearby. Friends you've known for years. A GP who knows your history. Maybe a therapist you've seen before. When you move abroad, most of that disappears overnight.
Building a new support network takes time, often years. And in the meantime, many expats cope by keeping busy, staying positive, and pushing through. It works, until it doesn't.
I've seen this pattern so many times, in my own life and in the people I work with. The loss of identity that comes with moving abroad can leave you feeling like you don't even know who to ask for help, or what kind of help you need. You just know that something feels off, and you can't quite explain it to anyone who hasn't been through it.
When to reach out
If any of these feel familiar, it might be time to talk to someone:
- You feel lonely even when you're surrounded by people
- You're irritable, anxious, or tearful more often than usual
- You've lost interest in things that used to bring you joy
- You feel disconnected from your partner, your friends, or yourself
- You keep thinking about going "home" but you're not sure where that is anymore
- You're going through a major life change and you feel overwhelmed
These aren't signs of weakness. They're signs that you're carrying more than you should have to carry alone.
You don't have to do this by yourself
Asking for help isn't giving up. It's one of the bravest things you can do. And working with a counsellor who understands the expat experience, someone who has lived it, can make all the difference.
I know what it's like to feel lost in a country that's supposed to be home. I know the guilt that comes with missing the life you left behind, even when you chose to leave. And I know how much it helps to have someone in your corner who truly gets it.
And sometimes, the small moments make it all worth it. Gelato in Florence on a sunny afternoon.
Life abroad isn't all struggle. There are extraordinary moments of beauty, connection, and freedom that you'll never forget. But when the difficult days outnumber the good ones, you deserve support from someone who understands.