Away, but not quite home: the many faces of being an expat.
When I first moved away from home, I imagined adventure: new skies, new sounds, new flavours. The excitement pulsed through me. But alongside that came the shadows—longing, confusion, small losses—things I didn’t quite expect. As a psychotherapist and someone who has lived as an expat for many years, I have come to see that leaving one’s native country is as much an internal journey as it is external. Here are some thoughts on what motivates people to move, what the challenges often are and what helps, from both research and lived experience.
Why Do People Leave: Psychological Motivations
Moving abroad isn’t just about opportunity; often there are deep psychological threads pulling someone toward change.
Self-development & growth: Researchers classify motivations for emigration into categories such as preservation (seeking safety, stability), self-development (growing, learning, openness to change), and materialistic (financial improvement, better standard of living). Many who move seek a chance to become a fuller version of themselves, whether by career advancement, new cultural exposure, or simply escaping a context that feels limiting.
Escaping past or present hardship: Sometimes the native environment brings emotional pain—loss, trauma, strained relationships, or unfulfilled potential. The decision to leave can be an attempt to heal, to assert independence, or to protect oneself. Separation from caregivers or earlier life traumas may play a role—not always conscious, but real.
Lifestyle, safety, and wellbeing: Practical motivations include better healthcare, safer environments, cleaner air, or more stable economies. Surveys show that many British expats in Australia report higher satisfaction in quality of life, attributing this to things like weather, health systems, and a more laid-back lifestyle.
Career & financial prospects: It’s common to move for work, for better pay, for more room to grow professionally. Over time, for many expatriates, career motives become more central.
So, the decision to become an expat is rarely simple, and rarely purely “positive” or “negative.” It’s almost always mixed. The push and pull.
The Challenges: What Is Harder than You Think
Even when you know why you move, many of the difficulties only become clear once you're settled (or trying to settle). Based on research and my own experience, here are some of the recurring themes:
Homesickness, loss, and missing the familiar
The smell of rain on pavement, the way family laughter sounds, favourite shops or foods—these small comforts build up a powerful tapestry of belonging. When you leave, you lose them. Even mundane routines (Sunday lunch, local jokes, predictable ways of doing things) can feel irreplaceably missed. Over time, many expats feel a kind of disconnection—not just geographically, but emotionally.
Culture shock, adaptation, and emotional mismatch
– In places like Dubai or other Middle Eastern cities, for example, many British expats report that while the pace is efficient, sleek, even dazzling, there is simultaneously a sense of emotional sterility—neighbors you never really know, friendships that feel transactional, community bonds that are transient.
– Differences in social norms, humour, ways of expressing vulnerability—all these demand adjustment. What counts as polite, as direct, as caring, as acceptable, can shift drastically.
Friendships: intense but fragile
There is a paradox: expats often form connections quickly—because being away makes people more open, more exposed, more willing to share. But many of these relationships are time-limited—people leave, contracts end, lives pull in new directions. The impermanence of friendships can trigger loss repeatedly.
Research of British expats shows that a significant proportion have few or no local friends; many mostly socialise with other expats. This can create a kind of “bubble,” comforting yet isolating from the broader community.
Affluence, pressure, and the cost of “better life”
The promise of better pay or lifestyle might come with trade-offs: longer work hours; higher living costs; pressure to appear successful or keep up with standards. Expats may feel they must prove themselves—both to others, and to themselves.
In expensive cities (Australia’s major metros, Dubai etc.), housing cost, commuting time, schooling for children, visa and permit hassles add layers of stress. For retirees or more senior expats, affordability of housing becomes a major concern.
Loneliness, trust, and mental health
Research done during the COVID-19 pandemic showed that perceived loneliness and trust issues—both in people around you (interpersonal) and in institutions (healthcare, government, host society)—greatly amplify stress for expatriates.
Also, missing family ties can bring guilt, or conflict: what do you owe to those you’ve left behind? How often do you visit? How much do you stay emotionally connected?
Repatriation / reverse culture shock
Coming home after years abroad is rarely a return to exactly what you left. People change. Place changes. Values shift. Many expats report feeling “alien” when they return to their native country. The familiar feels strange. Re-integrating is its own challenge.
Bright Spots, Growth, and What Helps
It isn’t all hardship. Many of these challenges are also sources of growth, awareness, resilience. Some of the things that help:
Clarity about values and motives: Knowing why you left, what you hope to build, what you absolutely do not want to lose, helps steer decisions. Is your move about family, career, creativity, peace, adventure? Or a mix. Revisiting that over time is key.
Assimilation in line with personal values: Learning the local language (or at least some of it), trying local customs, finding ways to blend rather than purely protect. But on your terms—there's no need to erase origin; it’s about weaving both into your identity.
Maintaining ties with “home”: It could be regular phone calls, visits, keeping up traditions, staying connected with family/friends. These act as anchors.
Building realistic expectations: Accepting that some things will be hard; that loss is part of the bargain; that friendships may change; that even in great places, days will be lonely; but also that these are not signs you made a mistake.
Social support & therapy: Talking helps. Peer groups of other expats, support networks, therapy to explore motivations you may not fully understand (trauma, separation, longing), to process identity shifts.
Self-care & slow time: When everything is change, finding routine, small rituals, familiar comforts (cooking something from home, music, art), getting outdoors, sleeping well. Letting yourself rest, not constantly adapting.
Personal Reflection
If I may, some of my story:
I grew up in a place where home meant your extended family around the dinner table, where the rhythm of seasons, the local church bells, and familiar shops formed a net of comfort. Early on, I felt restless—curious about what else might be possible, but also haunted by experiences that made staying feel limiting. Moving abroad was both a chance at freedom and a source of pain: I left people I loved, routines that grounded me, familiar faces.
In the first year overseas, I remember the thrill—the first new friend, the exotic fruit that tasted of sunshine, the morning walk under different skies. And also the loneliness—the first winter, when snow fell unusually early and I wished for the smell of wood fires in my childhood home. Or the hospital visit when I needed care and missed the voice of a close friend more than the medicine.
Over time, I built a life that felt increasingly mine. I accepted that I would always feel split in some way: part in the new place, part in the old. I learned to weave together traditions: cooking family recipes in a foreign kitchen, greeting the dawn with rituals I brought with me, pulling in local friends who teach me new songs, new perspectives. Therapy helped—not just when I felt crisis, but as a way to listen to my motives, to examine the grief of leaving, to honour the growth I was seeking.
Pulling It All Together: What Makes It Worthwhile
What I’ve come to believe is that being an expat offers a unique chance at self-redefinition. You get to ask: What makes life worthwhile? And sometimes the answers are shaped by absence: absence of place, of familiar relations, of predictable comfort. Sometimes you learn that peace or meaning are not located only in “home,” but in what you carry with you: values, love, curiosity, connection.
So, yes, it makes total sense to explore better prospects. To seek a life more aligned with your ideals. To chase dreams. But the price is often higher than the brochures say, and the journey is long.
Conclusion: Some Gentle Advice for Anyone Considering or Already Living Abroad
Reflect on your motivation: Is it adventure? Escape? Necessity? None are wrong. But clarity helps.
Think culture & identity: Decide what parts of “home” you want to keep, what parts of “host” you want to absorb. Identity is not lost but expanded.
Build support: Local friends, other expats, mentors, therapy. Don’t stay isolated.
Manage expectations: Accept that relationships will shift, occasional loneliness is normal, things will feel strange sometimes, even years later.
Stay connected: But allow home to evolve. Let go of guilt for wanting to leave; allow longing without shame.
Align choices with your values: Career, money, safety matter—but so do what you love, who you want to be, how you treat others, what kind of community you want.
Living as an expat is like being planted in foreign soil: sometimes the winds are harsh, sometimes the sun is bright, but from the roots you nurture—values, love, honest connection—you can grow branches wide and strong. You carry home with you, but home isn’t fixed—it’s part of who you are, wherever you are.
