I have been living in Europe for nine and a half years.

After four years of both living in Budapest and using it as a base for travel, I am leaving.

When you are living abroad and moving to another foreign country, moving can be extremely complex. For instance, I have to give up my residency, discuss tax logistics with my accountant, let Hungary know where I am moving next (I am a dual Canadian-Hungarian citizen), cancel my phone plan, give things away, rent a storage unit, and pack for two months of travel.

I am also saying goodbye to the people who have made these last four years meaningful: my community in Budapest. Both international and local friends — who started as complete strangers — have become like family here.

I am also closing a significant chapter. No matter where I end up next, I will never recreate exactly the same life, identity, or version of myself that existed in Budapest.

Further, I have been working full-time as I navigate this move.

As this experience has been so complex — and interesting for me as a psychologist to navigate — I wanted to write a how-to guide for other expats who find themselves in similar situations.

If you’re moving, dealing with a ton of logistics, trying to make sense of everything that the move has stirred up, and curious about how to support your nervous system through it, this guide is for you.

Navigating a move or major life transition? I support adults living internationally through relocation, identity shifts, grief, and change. Learn more about working with me here.

Leaving a Long-Term Home Creates Significant Cognitive and Emotional Load

When you are moving out of one foreign country and into another, you are managing so many areas of your life at once. There is the practical and legal side, the constant stream of small decisions, uncertainty about what comes next, and the disruption of your familiar routines. The time you would normally use to rest is suddenly filled with errands, admin, packing, and figuring out what still needs to be done.

At the same time, you are saying goodbye to people, experiencing a series of “last times,” and, if you are like me, continuing to manage your normal work and life responsibilities.

When there are this many moving parts, the cumulative load can become significant. Your brain and nervous system are not responding to each demand neatly in isolation; they are responding to everything you are managing at once.

Let’s be honest — a lot is happening right now.

In these moments, allowing yourself to feel overwhelmed without turning that feeling into a verdict — I made the wrong decision, I am bad at change, I am not coping well — can stop you from adding another layer of cognitive load to an already demanding experience.

During periods of significant transition, sometimes there is simply a lot to cope with.

Separate What Must Happen From What Would Be Nice to Happen

When you first realise that you are actually leaving, the list of things you want to do (combined with those you need to do) can feel overwhelming and endless.

There are absolutely things that genuinely must happen before you leave: residency and tax administration, arranging storage or movers, dealing with your housing, booking travel, packing, giving away or selling belongings, and saying goodbye to the people who made this place meaningful.

On the flip side, there are also many things that do not really need to happen, but would make you feel great if they did: visiting your favourite places one last time, saying goodbye to absolutely everyone, finding the perfect home for the things you are giving away, selling every item, having a flawlessly organised storage unit, and tying up every loose end.

When everything on your to-do list feels equally important, it can all start to feel urgent — and a lot more stressful.

What has felt supportive for me is focusing most of my attention on what must happen before I leave, while creating pockets of time for some of the things I would like to have happen.

If you are feeling overwhelmed by your own move, try looking at your list and asking: Does this actually have to happen before I leave? If the answer is no, move it into the second category. Focus larger chunks of time on what you must do, and create smaller, meaningful pockets of time for what would be nice to do.

Practise Radical Acceptance for What Actually Happens

Even though I have done my best to visit some of my favourite places, see most of my network, and find good homes for the things I am leaving behind, it has not all unfolded as I imagined.

Not everyone was available to say goodbye. Some things that I wanted to give to friends ended up in charity shops. I was not able to eat at all of my favourite restaurants or explore certain parts of the city one last time.

This is where I have found radical acceptance particularly supportive. Radical acceptance does not mean liking or approving of how everything turned out, or pretending that you are not disappointed. Rather, it means acknowledging the reality of what did happen instead of continuing to struggle with how you believe it should have happened.

When something does not go according to plan, notice if your mind starts adding another layer: I should have organised this better. I should have made more time. I can’t believe I didn’t get to do that.

Instead, bring your attention back to the facts: This is how things unfolded. I can acknowledge that I feel disappointed. Given what has happened and how I feel about it, how do I want to show up now?

There is only so much time and energy available when you are leaving an entire life behind. Some things will simply end on an imperfect note or remain unfinished — and that is okay.

Use Behavioural Activation When You Feel Overwhelmed

When we feel overwhelmed, we may have a tendency to wait until we feel better or more motivated before taking an action that could actually support us.

Behavioural activation, a tool commonly used in Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), encourages us to reverse this habit by taking a supportive action now, rather than waiting until we feel up to it later.

To experiment:

1. Notice what you have stopped doing.
Are you skipping meals, cancelling plans, moving less, staying inside, or sacrificing sleep because there is too much to do?

2. Choose one small, supportive action.
Eat a proper meal. Take a walk. Go to your exercise class. See a friend. Go to bed on time.

3. Do it before you feel ready.
You do not need to wait until you feel motivated, less stressed, or caught up to start supporting yourself.

4. Notice what happens afterwards.
Ask yourself: Did taking this time make things harder, or did it leave me more able to manage what came next?

The goal when using psychological tools is to approach them with curiosity rather than expecting them to solve or fix everything. Notice what happens, what helps, and what you may want to try again. Even a 5–10% improvement in your mood, energy, or ability to cope can be meaningful.

Build Regulation Into Your Day

When we become overwhelmed, some of the first things that tend to slip are exactly what help us cope and recover: sleep, movement, nutritious food, time outside, connection, and rest.

As I prepared for my move, I knew that with so much to do, there was no way it was going to feel completely stress-free. What I could do was intentionally incorporate things into my days that supported my nervous system.

Here are some of the things I did:

I started packing much earlier than I thought I needed to. This allowed the process to happen gradually rather than requiring me to dismantle my entire life during the final few days. I could pack a little, stop, work, see friends, exercise, and come back to it later.

I booked exercise classes rather than working out at home. Having somewhere to be and a class to follow meant that I was more likely to move my body. It also removed another decision from my day: I did not have to choose what workout to do or motivate myself to create one.

I walked whenever I reasonably could. Rather than rushing between errands using public transport or car hires, I tried to walk as much as possible. This gave my body movement, time outside, and small periods during the day when I was not completing another task.

I made eating well easier. I kept healthy snacks that I genuinely enjoy readily available at home. This meant that being busy did not automatically mean skipping meals or grabbing whatever was quickest.

I stayed hydrated. I took a water bottle with me wherever I went so that drinking enough water did not become another thing I forgot to do when I was busy.

I maintained regular sleep hygiene, even when my sleep was imperfect. I tried to get into bed around the same time each night. If I woke up during the night — which happened regularly — I allowed myself to rest rather than stressing about what time it was, when my alarm would go off, or how many hours of sleep I was getting.

I intentionally slowed myself down. Instead of having a quick shower and immediately moving on to the next task, I took baths as a simple way of creating a period in the evening for rest and recovery.

I combined moving tasks with connection. I invited friends over while I sorted through my belongings and offered them things I was not taking with me. This allowed me to spend more time with people I trusted, while also feeling reassured that some of my belongings were going to people I care about.

I made tedious tasks more enjoyable. While sorting and organising, I listened to podcasts about topics I found interesting or encouraging. Packing still needed to happen, but it did not need to have my undivided attention every second.

I took very small breaks. Sometimes this was as simple as spending five or ten minutes outside playing with my neighbour’s dog. These pockets of time got me outside, moving a bit, and focused on the present moment.

I gave myself small rewards. If I was near my favourite bakery, I would treat myself to my favourite coffee and baked good. When I finished dismantling and packing my living room, I got a massage. After days of endless packing, I took a break to go to the thermal baths. These moments were restorative, while also giving me opportunities to experience some of my favourite parts of living in Budapest before I left.

It is important to note that none of these actions removed the stress of leaving. I was still busy, physically tired, and at times overwhelmed by everything I had to do.

These activities gave me opportunities to recover while I was in the middle of it, which helped me keep going without completely depleting myself.

Nervous system regulation was not something I convinced myself that I needed to earn once the packing was finished. Instead, it was part of what supported me to get through the entire experience.

Give Your Day an Endpoint

One of the challenges with moving is that there is no natural endpoint to the day. There is always something else to do: another cupboard to sort through, email to send, bag to pack, drawer you forgot to open, or task that you could (and sometimes should) be doing.

This can make it extremely difficult to know when to stop. Even when you sit down, your mind may continue running through everything that needs to happen or has not happened yet.

To counter this, I intentionally created an endpoint each day. Depending on where I was in the moving process, this might mean deciding that I would stop packing at a certain time, finish one particular area and leave the rest for tomorrow, or simply allow what I had accomplished that day to be enough.

Remember that when you are moving, every completed task is progress. You do not have to finish everything today. Tomorrow, you can continue what you started.

Make Space for Grief

Out of the five countries that I have lived in, I have not left all of them because I wanted to, or because something exciting was about to come next. In this case, I am fortunate that I decided I was ready to start a new chapter outside of Budapest.

Although it was my choice to leave the city, and I am looking forward to what may come next, I am still experiencing grief surrounding my move.

During major transitions, contradictory emotions commonly coexist. You may feel hopeful and enthusiastic about what comes next and heartbroken by parts of what you are leaving behind. You may experience immense gratitude for the life you built somewhere and simultaneously feel that you cannot wait to leave.

During periods of emotional complexity, try to make space for seemingly contradictory feelings without needing to decide which one is the “right” one. Emotions can be treated as data points rather than directives. They give us information about our experience, but we do not necessarily need to act on every feeling that shows up.

Feeling uncomfortable, uncertain, or sad about leaving does not mean that you made the wrong choice. Similarly, feeling hopeful about what is to come does not diminish how meaningful this home, or this chapter of your life, was to you.

You can be ready to move forward and still be grieving what you are leaving behind.

Leaving Well Does Not Mean Leaving Perfectly

Leaving a country where you have built a life is not only about getting your belongings packed, completing the administration, and making it onto the plane. You are also closing a chapter of your life, saying goodbye to people who matter to you, and leaving behind a version of yourself that existed in that particular place and time.

There will probably be things you did not finish, people you wanted to see, moments you wish you had appreciated more, and parts of the process that felt far more stressful than you imagined.

Leaving “well” does not require you to do all of it perfectly.

Prioritise what matters, support yourself while you are going through it, make space for the emotions that show up, and allow some things to remain unfinished.

Finding it difficult to leave a place that became home?

I work with adults living internationally who are navigating relocation, identity shifts, grief, and the other challenges that come with building — and leaving — a life away from home. You can learn more about working with me at www.christinababich.com.

You might also like:

The Hidden Grief of Moving Forward

Should I Move Home? A Psychologist’s Guide

Why High-Functioning Expats Need Rest and Recovery

When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

Why You Keep Thinking About Moving Again

Nothing particularly urgent is happening, yet you still feel chronically “on.”

Your body feels restless, alert, ready to respond.

Maybe you’re on holiday, taking some time for yourself, or finally have a moment to relax.

There is nothing pressing to do. No immediate problem to solve.

And still, you feel like you should be doing something.

Your mind tries to make sense of the feeling:

I must have missed something.

I have a million things to do.

I can’t relax.

Something is wrong.

I need to do something to fix this feeling.

So you check your phone. Refresh your email. Search for something productive to do.

But the feeling doesn’t really go away.

Why can’t I just relax?

The answer may be linked to your nervous system.

If you’re struggling with feeling chronically “on,” you can learn more about working with me here.

The Nervous System of It All

When working with clients, I often compare the nervous system to the passenger in a car you are driving.

Our nervous system is constantly monitoring what is happening around us and helping us respond to potential danger. Sometimes those responses are incredibly helpful. Other times, they can feel confusing or out of proportion to the situation.

Let’s imagine that you have been driving fast for hours. You’re changing lanes, braking, accelerating, moving through traffic, and anticipating the next turn.

Then, finally, you reach a calm stretch of road.

As the driver, you can see that the road ahead is fairly straight, safe, and clear.

But your nervous system — the passenger — has just spent hours bracing for what is coming next and remaining highly alert.

After spending so long bracing for what comes next, the passenger may not immediately settle into the drive simply because the road has changed.

What This Looks Like in the Real World

If you spend — or have spent — long periods anticipating, adapting, problem-solving, responding, navigating challenges, or remaining on guard, a moment of calm does not necessarily mean that your system can suddenly switch off.

Your nervous system may have become accustomed to readiness, making being “on” feel increasingly familiar.

So when you attempt to slow down, that activation may still be present.

Your mind might start scanning for a problem to solve:

What’s next?

Have I forgotten something?

What should I be doing?

What needs to be dealt with?

An unread email. Tomorrow’s workload. A forgotten errand. A problem that can wait.

Suddenly, there is an explanation for the activation — and something you can do about it.

And for a moment, doing something in response to that feeling can feel better than sitting with the activation.

But it can also keep the cycle going:

activation → scanning → action → temporary relief → continued activation

Over time, staying “on” can start to feel more familiar to your nervous system than slowing down to rest and recover.

Your Nervous System Isn’t Meant to Be Calm All the Time

Nervous system activation serves a purpose. It helps us respond to what is happening around us, focus our attention, solve problems, and take action when something requires an immediate response.

Imagine you are about to give an important presentation. Your heart may beat faster, your attention may sharpen, and your body may become more alert. Your nervous system is preparing you to respond to the demands of the situation.

Once the presentation is over, you no longer need that same level of readiness. Ideally, the activation gradually decreases and your body begins to settle back towards its baseline.

This ability to adjust our level of activation based on what is happening is part of nervous system regulation.

Regulation includes becoming activated when we need to, and being able to settle and recover afterwards.

When your nervous system has spent long periods “on,” the activation itself may not be the problem.

Settling afterwards may be the part that has become difficult.

Tools for Managing Persistent Nervous System Activation

We cannot force our nervous system to settle on command. But repeated cues that there is nothing we need to respond to right now can help it become more familiar with slowing down and settling.

1. Acknowledge It

When you notice that you are activated, try observing the experience before responding to it.

This might sound like:

I can feel tightness in my chest.

I am having the thought that I need to check my email.

I’m having the urge to get up and do something.

I’m thinking about everything I need to do tomorrow.

Acknowledging what is happening — without judgement or immediately trying to change it — creates space between feeling activated and automatically reacting to that activation.

2. Orient Yourself to the Present

When your system is activated, your attention can become focused on what needs to happen next.

Grounding in the present brings your attention back to your current environment.

Try:

• 5 things you can see

• 4 things you can feel

• 3 things you can hear

• 2 things you can smell

• 1 thing you can taste

You can also practise this during ordinary activities. If you’re washing the dishes, notice the temperature of the water, the movement of your hands, and what you can see and hear around you. If you’re having a conversation, bring your attention back to the person in front of you when you notice your mind jumping ahead.

The goal is to be attentive to what is happening right now, rather than anticipating what comes next.

3. Move Your Body

When your system is activated, sitting still and trying to relax can sometimes leave you feeling even more restless.

Instead of forcing yourself into stillness, try:

• Going for a walk

• Stretching

• Shaking out your arms and legs

• Dancing

• Slow, repetitive movement

Giving your body an opportunity to move can help your system gradually shift out of that state of readiness.

4. Create an Intentional Endpoint

For many of us, there will always be something else that could be done.

Another email, task, piece of admin, or something to prepare for tomorrow.

Rather than waiting until everything is finished, create an intentional endpoint.

This might mean:

• Writing down what can wait until tomorrow

• Closing your laptop and putting it away

• Turning off work notifications

• Changing out of your work clothes

• Going for a walk at the end of your workday

• Having a consistent evening routine

You don’t have to convince yourself that everything is finished.

The goal is to create moments when nothing else needs your immediate attention.

5. Prioritise Recovery

Not everything that helps us switch off necessarily leaves us feeling restored.

Scrolling, watching television, or distracting yourself may help you decompress, while other activities may leave you feeling more genuinely restored.

This might include:

• Getting enough sleep

• Spending time outdoors

• Eating regular, nutritious meals

• Connecting with people you feel comfortable with

• Doing something enjoyable without trying to make it productive

• Spending time in familiar spaces

• Having intentional periods with fewer demands and less stimulation

Recovery looks different for everyone. Pay attention to which activities, people, and places leave you feeling more rested and restored.

The Part You May Not Like to Hear

You can use every tool in this article.

But if your nervous system is constantly being asked to stay “on,” it will be difficult to create meaningful opportunities to recover.

Grounding, movement, boundaries, and recovery can all help. But they cannot indefinitely compensate for chronic overload.

Sometimes supporting your nervous system also means looking at what keeps requiring you to stay alert, responsive, productive, or available — and asking whether any of it can change.

Struggling to Relax Is Not a Personal Failing

If this resonates, your life may have required you to stay alert, responsive, productive, or constantly ready to problem-solve. It makes sense that your nervous system has become highly practised at doing exactly that.

Finding it difficult to slow down does not mean you are failing at rest or need to try harder to relax.

Your nervous system may need more opportunities to practise slowing down.

If you find it difficult to slow down, feel chronically “on,” or notice that your nervous system rarely seems to settle, this is something we can work with in therapy.

I work with adults navigating chronic stress, trauma, major life transitions, and the additional demands that can come with living abroad.

You can learn more about working with me or book a free consultation here

Related Articles:

• How to Support Your Nervous System

• Why High Functioning Expats Need Rest and Recovery

• Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

• When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

• Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System

I often hear from people who move to a new country that it can be challenging to make new connections and build a sense of community.

They may attend meet-ups, make plans and become acquainted with many people in their new city, yet still feel that they have not formed genuine friendships or developed a sense of belonging.

Living abroad can create a type of loneliness in which you are surrounded by people but still feel isolated, without the established connections that may exist elsewhere.

Interestingly, if you are struggling to make friends abroad, meeting more people does not always solve the problem. Friendships often develop through repeated contact, initiative, reciprocity, shared experiences and time.

If you are feeling overwhelmed by the idea of making new friends, finding it difficult to establish stronger connections with the people you already know, or struggling to build a new community, this guide is for you.

If you’re struggling with loneliness, connection, or belonging abroad, therapy can help. To learn more about working with me, visit www.christinababich.com.

The Challenge of Making Friends Abroad

In our earlier years, friendships are typically formed through circumstance rather than deliberate effort. For instance, we usually connect with our peers as students and colleagues, through mutual friends, or through family networks. As a result, we are repeatedly exposed to the same people without consciously trying to “make new friends.” Seeing the same people regularly creates opportunities for familiarity, shared experiences and connection to develop over time.

When we move to a new city or country, much of that existing social infrastructure disappears. Building a community deliberately can require a different skill set from forming friendships in environments where connection happened more organically. We may suddenly need to seek out social opportunities, initiate plans, tolerate the awkwardness of meeting new people, and actively move acquaintances toward friendship.

In some ways, moving abroad requires us to learn how to make friends intentionally.

It also comes with additional barriers:

• Expat and nomad communities are often transient

• Locals may already have long-established friendship groups

• Language differences can make deeper conversations more effortful

• Cultural expectations around socialising, invitations, communication and intimacy can differ

• Remote work can remove a major source of regular social contact

• Frequent relocation can mean repeatedly starting over socially

• Repeatedly saying goodbye to friends who move away can make investing in new relationships feel exhausting

These are factors that many globally mobile adults have to navigate. If you are finding it difficult to make friends, it is not necessarily evidence that you are socially inept or living in the wrong city or country. You may simply be learning how to build friendships in an environment where connection requires more deliberate effort.

It’s Not Always as Simple as Meeting More People

Whenever I move to a new country, I start looking for community by joining local Facebook groups for expats and women living abroad. Usually, I connect with one or two people and suggest doing something together one-on-one.

While I believe that meet-up groups, expat events, Bumble BFF and WhatsApp groups are a great way to get out of your comfort zone and connect with others in your new city or country, meeting more people does not necessarily lead to stronger connections.

Psychological research has long shown that repeated exposure and proximity can increase the likelihood of connection, a phenomenon known as the propinquity effect. In simple terms, we are more likely to develop relationships with people we regularly encounter.

Some of the places and activities that have worked well for me, my friends, and my clients include:

• Weekly yoga or fitness classes

• Running or hiking groups

• Volunteering

• Language classes or exchanges

• Coworking spaces

• Book clubs

• Sports teams

• Creative classes

• Regular community events

Friendships often grow through familiarity, so seeing the same people regularly may be more helpful than constantly trying to meet new ones.

Moving Relationships Forward

Sometimes our relationships get stuck at the acquaintance stage because no one has taken the initiative to move them forward.

This can feel surprisingly intimidating and vulnerable. Asking someone to spend time together one-on-one means taking a small social risk and communicating, in some way, I would like to get to know you better.

Rather than waiting for the other person to initiate, try making a specific invitation: coffee after class, a walk over the weekend, dinner, or an event you are planning to attend. Once, I kept seeing the same woman at my weekly Pilates class and thought she seemed friendly. After class, I asked her if she enjoyed drinking wine, and the rest is history.

As the friendship develops, look for reciprocity rather than keeping score over who initiated last. Do they accept your invitations or suggest another time when they are busy? Do they remember things you have told them? Do they show an interest in your life? Do they include you in plans or show up when they say they will?

Friendships often begin because one person is willing to take the risk of finding out whether the other person wants to connect too.

Recognise Existing Connections

When we are feeling lonely, it can be easy to notice what is missing: I don’t have a best friend here. I haven’t found my people. I don’t have a strong social circle.

In these moments, we often overlook the smaller connections that are already around us. It might be the pharmacist who remembers you, the neighbour who says hello every morning, the barista who remembers your coffee order, or the person you regularly share a smile with before yoga.

While these interactions are not substitutes for close relationships, they still contribute to a sense of familiarity and belonging. Over time, recognising people and being recognised by them can make us feel more connected to where we live.

Not every meaningful connection needs to become a close friendship to have value.

If You’re Feeling Overwhelmed

Making friends can sometimes feel like a task on your to-do list: find events, message people you don’t know, show-up alone, make conversation, follow-up and make plans. When you are already feeling lonely, homesick or tired, it can be tempting to withdraw instead.

Unfortunately, this can create a cycle: feeling lonely → withdrawing → having fewer opportunities for connection → feeling more lonely.

A psychological tool that can help interrupt this cycle is behavioural activation, a strategy commonly used in Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT). One of its basic principles is that we don’t have to wait until we feel motivated to do something that may be good for us. Instead, we plan the activity, do it, and assess how we feel afterwards.

For example, I recently worked with a client who was nervous about attending a language meet-up alone. Rather than waiting until he felt more confident, he decided to go and see how it went. He enjoyed himself, returned the following week, and now attends regularly.

If you are feeling overwhelmed, start small. Attend one event, message one acquaintance, accept one invitation, or commit to a recurring activity for a few weeks. Afterwards, ask yourself: How did it actually go? Was it as uncomfortable as I expected? Is it something I would try again?

Try to approach it as an experiment rather than putting pressure on yourself to make a new friend. It may be helpful to remember that in expat communities, almost everyone has had a first event, an awkward introduction, or a time when they were the new person in the room.

Give Connections a Chance

I often hear clients tell me that they don’t have close friends where they live. Yet, as we talk about their week, I hear about many of the same people: someone they regularly meet for coffee, a friend they exercise with, or someone who checks in and invites them to make plans.

Sometimes, these relationships may have more potential than we realise. Part of discovering whether someone can support us, whether they are trustworthy, or whether they will be there when we need them involves giving them the opportunity to do so.

This requires allowing ourselves to be known a little more. This doesn’t mean immediately sharing deeply personal experiences or forcing intimacy. Rather, it might look like sharing that you’ve had a difficult week, reaching out when you could use some company, asking for a small favour, or accepting help when it is offered.

Sometimes, we wait until someone feels like a close friend before allowing ourselves to rely on them in a meaningful way. We need to give people the opportunity to show-up for us before we can know whether they will.

Give It Time

Try to give yourself and your new friendships time to develop. It is easy to compare relationships that are only a few months old with friendships that have existed over many years.

In reality, a six-month-old friendship cannot be expected to contain the same history as a fifteen-year friendship.

Feeling connected and rooted somewhere new takes time. Familiarity builds through repeated contact, shared experiences, and gradually growing trust. Try not to read the absence of immediate belonging as evidence that you are in the wrong place, bad at making friends, or that everyone else already has their people. Many people feel more alone and uncertain than they appear.

Give yourself time, stay curious about the people around you, and allow new relationships the chance to develop.

Finding it difficult to feel connected while living abroad?

I work with adults living internationally who are navigating loneliness, belonging, cultural adjustment and other challenges that can come with building a life away from home. You can learn more about working with me www.christinababich.com.

You might also like:

Why Expats and Digital Nomads Feel Lonely Abroad Despite Active Social Lives

Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

The Hidden Grief of Moving Forward

When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

If you’ve been living in another country for a while, you’ve probably found yourself wondering whether it’s time to move home.

These thoughts often become louder after a difficult week, a break-up, a career setback, a visit home, or one too many moments of feeling like you don’t belong.

Most of the time, the question passes. We process what we’re feeling and continue building our lives abroad. Yet sometimes it lingers. We begin to wonder whether staying abroad is still the right decision, or whether it’s time for this chapter to come to an end.

If you’ve been asking yourself this question, you’re not alone. It’s incredibly common to imagine moving home while recognising that the decision is far more complex than choosing where to live.

This article won’t tell you whether you should stay or leave. Instead, it offers a framework for understanding what’s driving the decision by exploring your needs, emotions, thoughts, values, motivations, the trade-offs you’re willing to accept, and the grief that often accompanies major life transitions.

If you’re feeling stuck between staying abroad and moving home, therapy can help you untangle the thoughts, emotions, and values shaping your decision. To learn more about working with me, visit www.christinababich.com.

When Deciding Whether to Move Home, Ask Yourself...

1. What needs am I trying to meet?

When making a life-changing decision, it helps to understand what you’re hoping will be different afterwards.

Depending on your situation, you may have many compelling reasons to move home: being closer to ageing parents, watching your nieces and nephews grow up, saving money, rebuilding a support network, or experiencing the ease of life in your home culture.

Equally, you may have strong reasons to stay abroad. Perhaps you’ve built a life that feels meaningful, value the opportunities available to you, enjoy the adventure of living in a foreign country, and/or do not want to leave behind the relationships and routines you’ve worked hard to create.

However, some needs are less about location and more connected to our emotional experience. Burnout, loneliness, grief, chronic stress, or feeling disconnected from yourself deserve attention, and they are unlikely to disappear because you change countries.

Our minds often convince us that if we can just change one thing, everything else will fall into place. While a move may absolutely solve certain problems, it rarely solves all of them. Before making a decision, ask yourself which needs are genuinely tied to your location, and which are likely to travel with you.

The more honestly you can distinguish between what can change because of your location and what can’t, the more clearly you’ll understand the needs driving your decision. Once those needs are clear, you’re in a much better position to evaluate whether moving home is likely to meet them.

2. What feelings am I hoping moving home will resolve?

Our emotions can feel incredibly persuasive, yet the conclusions we draw from them don’t always reflect the full picture.

Our emotions deserve to be acknowledged. They provide valuable information about our internal experience, but they are only one source of information. Feeling lonely doesn’t necessarily mean you need to move home, just as feeling excited about staying abroad doesn’t automatically mean it’s the “right” choice. The goal is to understand what your emotions are pointing towards before allowing them to shape your decision.

If you’re asking yourself whether it’s time to move home, pause for a moment and notice what emotions are present. Is it loneliness? Burnout? Grief? Homesickness? Fear? Disappointment?

Simply naming what you’re feeling can create enough distance to respond more thoughtfully. One way to create that distance is by changing “I am lonely” to “I’m noticing that I’m feeling lonely.” While subtle, this shift can help us recognise that our emotions are part of our experience, rather than our entire reality.

3. What story is my mind creating?

Just as our emotions can influence our decisions, so can the stories our minds create.

When we’re uncertain, our minds try to make sense of what we’re experiencing.

“Moving here was a mistake.”
“I’ll never fit in.”
“I shouldn’t have moved here.”
“Everyone else seems to be managing life abroad better than I am.”
“I’ve invested too much to leave now.”
“If I move home, then I’ve failed.”

Over time, these stories can begin to feel like facts.

Rather than automatically assuming they’re true, see if you can simply notice them. Even adding the words “I’m noticing the thought that…” can create enough distance to recognise it as a thought, rather than a fact.

It’s also worth remembering that some stories are strengthened by everything we’ve already invested: years adapting to a new culture, learning a new language, building friendships, creating routines, and establishing a career. Those investments matter, but they don’t necessarily tell us what our next chapter should look like.

4. Am I considering both my emotions and the facts?

When making a major life decision, it’s important to acknowledge both your emotional experience and the reality of your current situation.

If we rely only on our emotions, it’s easy to lose sight of important facts. If we rely only on logic, we risk overlooking our values, needs, and emotional well-being.

Consider both the practical and emotional realities of each option. What would moving home allow you to gain? What would you lose? What would staying abroad allow you to keep? What might it continue to cost you?

The goal is to integrate both emotion and reason when making decisions. In Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT), this balance is known as Wise Mind — the ability to integrate our emotions with the facts of our situation so we can make more balanced decisions.

5. Which option is most aligned with my values?

Our values influence the goals we pursue, how we relate to the world around us, the decisions we make, and ultimately, what gives our lives meaning.

When we’re faced with a difficult decision, it’s easy to focus on which option feels safest, easiest, or least uncomfortable. Our values invite us to ask:

Which option moves me towards the kind of life I want to build?

For one person, living abroad may align with values such as adventure, curiosity, personal growth, or experiencing different cultures. For someone else, being close to family, building community, or creating stability may have become more important during this stage of life.

It’s worth remembering that our values evolve. What mattered most to us five years ago may no longer feel as important today. As we grow and our circumstances change, our values often shift with us.

Rather than asking yourself which option feels easiest or offers the greatest sense of certainty, consider which option is most aligned with the values that matter most to you right now.

Decisions grounded in our values won’t always feel comfortable, but they’re more likely to reflect the life we’re trying to build.

6. Am I moving towards or away from the life I want?

Many of our decisions are driven by two different motivations: what we’re moving towards and what we’re hoping to leave behind.

Two people may both decide to move home. One is being pulled towards a life that feels more aligned with their values. The other is being pushed away from a life that no longer feels sustainable.

While the decision is the same, the motivation isn’t.

Often, both motivations are present. The important question is whether or not your decision is moving you towards the life you’re trying to build.

It can be helpful to ask yourself: If the difficult parts of my current situation disappeared tomorrow, would I still want to make this move?

7. What trade-offs am I willing to accept?

One of the hardest parts about making a significant decision is accepting that no option comes without loss.

Every meaningful decision involves trade-offs. Whichever path you choose, there will be things you gain, things you lose, and moments when you wonder what life might have looked like had you chosen differently.

Rather than searching for the perfect option, consider:

Which trade-offs am I most willing to accept in exchange for the life I want to build?

8. What am I grieving?

Every meaningful choice involves letting go of something: a place, relationships, routines, community, an identity tied to where you are now, or a future you once imagined.

Whenever we choose one path, we also leave another behind.

Grief reminds us what mattered: what we invested in, what we loved, and what we’re leaving behind.

Rather than seeing grief as evidence that you’ve made the wrong decision, remember that we can grieve one chapter while still choosing the next.

In Summary

There is no perfect formula for deciding whether it’s time to move home. What these questions offer is a framework for exploring the decision more thoughtfully.

They invite you to become curious about the needs you’re trying to meet, the emotions you’re experiencing, the stories you’re telling yourself, the values guiding you, the direction you’re moving in, the trade-offs you’re willing to accept, and what you’re grieving.

The answers won’t make the decision for you, but they may help you move forward with greater clarity and intention.

If you’re finding it difficult to decide whether to stay abroad or move home, you don’t have to navigate it alone. I work with expats and internationally mobile adults navigating life transitions, anxiety, grief, and burnout. You can learn more about my approach or book an online consultation at www.christinababich.com.

We all have hopes, dreams, and expectations about how our lives will unfold. We imagine the relationships we’ll have, the work we’ll do, the places we’ll go, and the future we’re moving towards. Sometimes we even assume that things will seamlessly work out.

Yet life rarely unfolds exactly as we imagined. Relationships end, opportunities disappear, plans change, illnesses emerge, and sometimes things simply don’t work out.

When my partner died in 2021, the trajectory of my life abruptly changed. To survive, and remain engaged with what remained, I had to learn how to find meaning alongside grief, trauma and massive uncertainty.

Living a meaningful life doesn’t have to be determined by our circumstances. Accepting reality, validating our emotions, engaging with the present, and living according to our values can help us create one, even when things don’t reflect what we had imagined.

If you’re navigating grief, trauma, loss, or another significant life transition and would like support, you can learn more about my approach to psychology and my services here.

Meeting Reality

When life doesn’t unfold the way we hoped, our minds tend to resist reality.

We replay conversations, imagine a different outcome, or compare the life we’re living with the one we thought we’d have. We might notice our inner voice saying, “It shouldn’t be like this.”

Our minds are constantly trying to protect us by solving problems. When something distressing happens, the nervous system is programmed to try and fix it.

This is incredibly helpful when a problem can be solved. However, many of life’s most challenging experiences have no solution or way of sorting themselves out.

Acceptance is not approval, giving up, or pretending that what happened is okay. Rather, it is the willingness to recognise reality for what it is and work with it rather than against it.

While acceptance does not remove pain, it can reduce the struggle that comes from resisting what cannot be changed. By meeting our circumstances with honesty, awareness and compassion, we make space to consider how we want to respond to the life that is in front of us.

Making Space for Emotions

In my work as a psychologist, I often see people trying to create a meaningful life while avoiding their emotions.

Many of us grow up receiving messages that challenging emotions should be pushed aside, hidden, or replaced with more positive ones. Yet our emotions are not obstacles to overcome. They carry important data about our experiences, needs, values, and what matters to us most.

Making space for our emotions, begins by simply noticing what is present. Ask yourself, “What am I feeling right now?” Name the emotion, notice where it shows up in your body, and allow it to exist without judging it or trying to change anything.

Sadness, fear, grief, and disappointment are a natural part of the human experience. We don’t have to wait for challenging emotions to pass before we begin living according to our values. In fact, learning to make space for what we are feeling is often what allows us to stop resisting; giving ourselves the opportunity to process how we feel and move towards what means to us.

Reconnect With the Present

Our minds are drawn to problem-solving by revisiting the past, imagining a different future, and comparing our lives to those of others (or what we wish we had). In these moments, our minds are doing what they were designed to do: protect us. However, our lives are always happening in the here and now.

Bringing our attention to the present means observing when our minds have wandered and gently returning our focus to what is happening right now.

We can begin by connecting with our bodies which may look like: noticing our breath, feeling our feet on the ground, or becoming aware of the physical sensations we are experiencing. I often recommend the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding exercise to my clients: notice five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste.

We can then begin engaging more fully with whatever we are doing. Depending on what is happening, this may mean giving your full attention to a conversation, mindfully preparing a meal, taking a walk in nature and noticing the smells, colours and temperature, or simply taking in whatever sights and sounds are around you. Bringing our attention to the task at hand allows us to settle back into our lives.

Live According to Your Values

When life doesn’t go according to plan, it can be easy to focus on what we have lost control of. While we cannot always choose our present circumstances, we can decide which values we want to express through our actions.

I often encourage clients to pause and ask themselves:

Given my present circumstances, who do I want to be?
What matters most?
How do I want to treat myself?
What kind of relationship do I want with the people around me?

Values are always available to guide our behaviour. Our circumstances can absolutely influence what is possible, but they do not have to determine the kind of person we choose to show-up as.

Living according to our values often looks like small, everyday actions:

• Connection: reach out to a friend or loved one

• Courage: have a difficult conversation

• Kindness: soften the way we speak to ourselves

• Curiosity: stay open rather than jumping to conclusions.

• Health: go for a walk, meditate, move our bodies or prepare a nourishing meal

Building a Meaningful Life

Five years ago, when my partner Alex died suddenly and unexpectedly, I lost almost everything. The partner I loved, our home, my life in Amsterdam, my job, the future we had imagined together, and my best friend were gone in an instant.

While it was impossible to change or “solve” Alex’s death. Over time I realised that – even in the face of immense loss – I could still choose the type of life I wanted to build. For me, that meant creating a meaningful life that coexists the grief and trauma of Alex’s death.

I still deeply love Alex. I will always miss him. Even today, five years later, I miss the life we built together and the future we had imagined. Being “widowed” at 34 left me facing things that I never expected to. There are still days that feel overwhelming, empty and sad. For me, surviving has meant continuing to approach life in a way that is rooted in my values: nurturing my close relationships, being present for the people I love, travelling, remaining curious about the world, finding purpose through my work, inviting humour into ordinary moments, educating myself, and honouring Alex’s memory as his surviving partner.

We can create a meaningful life by accepting our reality, returning to the present, and living according to our values. It is through our everyday choices that we begin to shape a life that reflects what matters to us most.

Thank you for reading. If this article resonated with you, consider sharing it with someone who may benefit from it.

If you’re navigating a difficult life transition and would like professional support, you can learn more about my approach to psychology and book a consultation here.

I’ll be taking a short break from writing next week.

Rather than publishing something new, I thought I would use the opportunity to share a collection of articles for anyone navigating the emotional and psychological realities of living abroad.

Relocation is often presented as exciting, expansive, and full of possibility. It can be all of those things. It can also involve exhaustion, uncertainty, loneliness, pressure, and a changing sense of where we belong.

These articles explore some of those less visible parts of international life.

Expat Life Got You Exhausted? Here’s How to Recover from Cultural Burnout

Cultural burnout can develop when the ongoing effort of adapting to a different environment begins to drain our emotional, mental, and physical resources.

This article explores the common signs of cultural burnout, why even ordinary tasks can become exhausting abroad, and some practical ways to begin restoring energy and stability.

Read: Expat Life Got You Exhausted? Here’s How to Recover from Cultural Burnout

The Pressure to Be the Perfect Expat

Living abroad can sometimes feel like a performance.

We may feel pressure to learn the language quickly, build a social life, embrace every cultural difference, and prove that moving was the right decision. This article explores how that pressure affects the nervous system and why reframing the experience as an experiment rather than a verdict can make life abroad feel lighter.

Read: The Pressure to Be the Perfect Expat

Why Expat Burnout Is Different From Ordinary Burnout

Expat burnout is not only the result of working too much. It can come from the constant effort of translating, adapting, rebuilding routines, navigating unfamiliar systems, and managing everyday life without the support and familiarity we once relied on.

This article looks at why expats are particularly vulnerable to burnout and how restoring predictability, agency, and small cues of safety can help.

Read: Why Expat Burnout Is Different From Ordinary Burnout

Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

After living across multiple countries, home may no longer feel like one clear geographic place.

This article explores the ambiguous grief of living between cultures, the rootlessness that can accompany a globally mobile life, and how belonging can gradually become distributed across relationships, values, memories, and places.

Read: Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System

Living abroad means managing ordinary life stress while the nervous system is also working to adapt to unfamiliar surroundings, social expectations, routines, and systems.

This article returns to the foundations: regular meals, sleep, movement, hydration, familiar routines, and other small behaviours that help the body register greater stability.

Read: Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System

Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

You can be safe and still feel unsettled.

This article explains why the nervous system may remain alert even when there is no immediate danger, particularly after chronic stress, trauma, repeated change, or prolonged instability. It also explores a more realistic understanding of emotional regulation: not eliminating discomfort, but increasing our capacity to remain present within it.

Read: Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

Whether you are newly abroad, have been living internationally for years, or are beginning to question what home means to you, I hope one of these articles helps you understand your experience with a little more clarity and compassion.

I’ll be back soon with a new article.

After hundreds of therapy sessions with clients from all over the world, I’ve noticed something that still fascinates me: although every person brings a unique story, there are a handful of psychological principles that seem to resonate regardless of culture, personality, or life experience.

These are not quick fixes or a substitute for therapy. They are simple psychological principles that can help us respond to ourselves with greater understanding, curiosity, and compassion.

Here are five ideas I find myself sharing most often with my clients.

If you’d like to learn more about me or my approach to therapy, you can find more information here.

1. “Your nervous system is trying to keep you safe.”

One of the first things I explain to clients is that the nervous system is separate from who we are. It is a network that includes our brain, spinal cord and nerves, and its primary role is to keep us alive.

I often compare the nervous system to a passenger in a car. You are driving, while the passenger is constantly scanning the road for danger. Sometimes it spots a genuine hazard and helps you avoid it. Other times, it sounds the alarm when there is no real threat present. While the passenger can offer useful information, it shouldn’t take hold of the steering wheel.

Your nervous system wasn’t designed to distinguish between a predator and a presentation; it was designed to protect you. We still carry a bias towards caution, which is why an unanswered email, financial uncertainty, conflict with a loved one, or walking into a room full of strangers can trigger the same alarm system.

This is why I often remind clients that anxiety is not always reliable evidence that something is wrong. More often, it reflects a nervous system doing what it evolved to do.

My article How to Support Your Nervous System provides practical insights into caring for your nervous system.

2. “Feelings aren’t facts.”

Some of the most common phrases I hear from clients typically begin with, “I feel like...”
“I feel like I have no friends.”
“I feel like I’m never going to meet someone.”
“I feel like I’m behind.”

The interesting thing is that what follows “I feel like...” is usually not a feeling at all, but an explanation for one. The feeling is often anxiety, loneliness, shame, or disappointment. What follows is the story our mind creates to make sense of it.

The mind is remarkably uncomfortable with uncertainty. When we don’t know why we feel the way we do, it is quick to provide an explanation. The challenge is that strong emotions can make those explanations seem true.

This is why I often remind clients to approach feelings as data. Feelings tell us something about our internal experience, but they do not reliably tell us what to believe about ourselves, other people, or our future.

The next time you notice a strong emotion, experiment with pausing for a moment. Name the feeling first, then notice the story your mind begins to create around it. That small pause reminds us that while our emotions are real, our interpretations are not always accurate.

Much of the story our mind creates is an attempt to resolve uncertainty. If you'd like to explore this idea further, I've written more about it in When Uncertainty Feels Like a Problem to Solve.

3. “Progress isn’t linear”

“I thought I was doing better.”

I hear this surprisingly often after a difficult day, a surge of anxiety, or feeling overwhelmed again after weeks or months of progress.

It’s easy to mistake a temporary emotional state for a permanent setback. The nervous system doesn’t learn, adapt, or recover in a perfectly linear way, and neither does healing.

Progress rarely means feeling steady all the time. Rather, it involves recognising that uncomfortable thoughts and emotions are temporary states, not evidence of regression.

A difficult day does not erase the work that came before it. Healing is measured over time, not by our hardest moments.

4. “Thoughts are not commands.”

Our minds generate thousands of thoughts every day. They can be helpful, accurate, exaggerated, and shaped by our emotions, past experiences, or habitual ways of thinking. Thoughts can feel incredibly convincing, especially when they are accompanied by strong emotions.

It is important to remember that thoughts are neither facts nor commands. Just because we think something does not make it true, helpful, or something we should act on.

One way of creating a little distance is to observe our thoughts rather than automatically trusting them. You might say to yourself, “I’m noticing that I’m having the thought that...” or, “Here’s that story again...” That small shift reminds us that we can notice a thought without automatically believing it.

5. “You don’t have to earn rest.”

Many of us have learned to treat rest as something we earn. We tell ourselves we’ll slow down once the work is finished, the house is clean, the emails are answered, or the next deadline has passed.

The problem is that the to-do list is rarely finished.

Rest is not a reward for productivity. It is one of the ways our nervous system recovers from stress and maintains the capacity to keep showing up for the people and responsibilities that matter to us.

The most effective recovery is usually intentional, not accidental. It might be a walk, laughter, movement, reading, time in nature, or simply being with someone who helps you feel safe. What matters is finding what genuinely allows your nervous system to recover.

My article Why High Functioning Expats Need Rest and Recovery further explores this topic.

Reading about psychology can be a helpful starting point. Therapy offers the opportunity to explore these ideas within the context of your own life and experiences. If you’d like to work together, you can learn more about my practice here.

Canada will always be my home country. It is the place where I was born, grew up, and became an adult.

Over the last nine (and counting) years, I’ve built my life in Europe, including more than seven years in countries where English is not the primary language. Most of the people I spend my time with, work alongside, and form relationships with are European. As such, Europe has become the cultural lens through which I experience much of my daily life.

It wasn’t until I returned home this past January that I realized how profoundly my experience of my home culture had changed.

During my visit, moments like these kept accumulating: I caught myself using slang that had become second nature to me in Europe, only to realize that some of my Canadian friends had no idea what I meant. I had forgotten that country music existed until I heard it playing everywhere again. I paused over unfamiliar Canadian slang and instinctively converted prices into euros. I found myself listening to conversations with genuine curiosity, noticing what Canadians my age talked about, what they found funny, and what seemed to matter in their everyday lives.

Looking back, these moments were all pointing to the same thing: my cultural baseline had evolved. Canada hadn’t changed nearly as much as my experience of it had.

A Surprisingly Common Experience

In my work as a psychologist, I’ve found that this phenomenon is extremely common.

You can learn more about my practice here.

Many globally mobile adults describe feeling as though they exist somewhere between cultures: no longer fully at home in the one they grew up in, yet never entirely local in the ones they’ve come to call home.

Culture isn’t inherited. It’s continuously accumulated through the people around us, the conversations we have, the language we hear, the media we consume, and the routines that shape our everyday lives.

Humans are remarkably adaptive. The longer we live in a particular environment, the more its language, humour, customs, and social rules become automatic. Often, we don’t recognize that process until we’re surrounded by people whose assumptions and social norms differ from our own.

When You Feel Between Cultures

Researchers have used the term cultural homelessness to describe the experience of feeling as though you exist between cultures: you no longer feel entirely at home in the one you grew up in, while never becoming a complete insider anywhere else.

Cultural homelessness often emerges as a consequence of our remarkable ability to adapt to the cultures in which we live.

It can mean returning home and feeling slightly out of step with a place that once felt effortless to navigate. You might feel like a tourist in the city where you grew up, realize that conversations, humour, and social norms no longer feel quite as automatic as they once did, or recognize that you’ll probably never be seen as a complete local in the countries where you’ve built your life. Over time, it can begin to feel as though no single culture fully captures who you’ve become.

For some people, living between cultures feels expansive. They value the perspective, relationships, and growth that come from experiencing the world through more than one cultural lens. For others, it brings moments of loneliness, grief, or a sense of never fully belonging anywhere. For many people, these two experiences coexist: you may love the life you’ve built while still grieving the sense of belonging you once took for granted.

Why Cultural Homelessness Might Feel Emotional

Returning home means re-entering a culture your brain expects to navigate effortlessly. When familiar interactions, social norms, and shared assumptions no longer feel intuitive and automatic, the experience can feel disorienting.

From an evolutionary perspective, this makes sense. Humans evolved in groups, and our survival depended on understanding the people around us. Our nervous systems are constantly scanning for cues about where we belong, what the social rules are, how to communicate, and whether we are inside or outside the group. When those expectations no longer match our experience, it can create a subtle feeling of disorientation, even in the country we’ve always called home.

Building Stability Across Cultures

Whether living between cultures feels inspiring, enriching, lonely, or grief-filled, you don’t have to wait for your sense of cultural belonging to feel certain before building a meaningful life. Many people spend years hoping they’ll eventually find a place that feels like home, and while sometimes they do, other times they don’t.

One of the ideas I appreciate most from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy is that we don’t have to wait for certainty before living in accordance with what matters to us. While we may not be able to control whether we feel at home in a particular culture, we can influence the conditions that help us feel grounded, connected, and psychologically safe wherever we are.

Over the years, I’ve noticed that no matter which country I’m in, I always look for a yoga studio. The studio, teachers, and students are different, but the experience itself remains familiar. It gives my nervous system a portable anchor: a consistent place to return to, no matter where I am in the world.

For someone else, that anchor might look like cooking family recipes, calling the same friend every Sunday, finding a local climbing gym, joining a choir, volunteering, continuing therapy, attending a place of worship, or keeping a consistent morning routine. These rituals provide our nervous systems with familiarity and continuity, even when everything else around us is changing.

Portable anchors don’t erase the uncertainty of living between cultures, but they do create continuity. They remind us that not everything has to change simply because our surroundings do.

If you’re living between cultures, you might find it helpful to reflect on a few questions:

• When so much around me changes, what do I want to keep constant?

• What values do I want to carry with me, wherever I live?

• Which relationships, communities, or routines help me feel most grounded?

• What kind of life do I want to build, regardless of where I happen to be?

Home doesn’t always stay tied to a single country. Sometimes it becomes something we carry with us, shaped by the values we live by, the relationships we nurture, and the life we build.

A Note on Support

If this resonates, you’re not alone in navigating it. Many of the adults I work with are high-functioning, self-aware people who have built rich lives abroad and still find themselves quietly struggling with exactly this.

If you’d like to explore what this experience means for you, I invite you to reach out. Visit christinababich.com to learn more or book a free consultation.

Further Reading

• The Hidden Grief of Moving Forward

• Why You Keep Thinking About Moving Again

• Why Moving Abroad Can Intensify Trauma Symptoms

• Why Relocating Again Feels Scarier Than It Used To

You got the job you wanted.

You bought your first home.

You moved to a new country.

You met someone you want to build a life with.

You retired.

These are the kinds of milestones that we typically celebrate. They’re widely seen as markers of progress and the beginning of a new chapter. Naturally, we often expect them to leave us feeling happier, more confident, and excited about our future.

In reality, reaching major life milestones can evoke emotions we never anticipated. Rather than asking ourselves why we feel this way, we often assume we shouldn’t feel this way at all.

I should be more grateful.
This is what I wanted.
Why don’t I feel happier?

It can even feel wrong to acknowledge the sadness. After all, this is exactly what you wanted and what you worked so hard for. Other people might look at your life and assume you’ve made it. So why does part of you still feel like something has been lost?

As we move toward what’s next, it’s easy to overlook what we’re also leaving behind.

Sometimes the problem isn’t that we’ve made the wrong decision. We’ve simply mistaken grief for regret. Recognising the difference can change the way we experience life’s biggest transitions.

If you’re navigating a major life transition and finding it harder than expected, therapy can provide a space to make sense of the emotions that accompany change. You can learn more about working with me here.

The Losses We Don’t Always See

When we think about grief, we usually picture the death of someone we love. We don’t expect to encounter it after moving to a new country, getting married, retiring, or achieving a goal we’ve spent years working toward. Yet every step forward asks us to let go of something that once gave us a sense of familiarity, certainty, or meaning.

Our attention naturally focuses on what we’ve gained.
Our nervous systems still need time to adjust to what has changed.

One reason this kind of grief is so difficult to recognise is that we don’t have a shared language or rituals for it. There is a cultural blueprint for responding to someone who loses a loved one. We send flowers, attend funerals, and offer condolences. But when someone is grieving an old identity, a familiar way of life, or the future they once imagined, there are no equivalent rituals. More often, they’re congratulated and expected to move forward.

Without those shared rituals or a common language for this kind of grief, these losses often go unrecognised — not only by the people around us, but by us as well.

We grieve invisible losses: our identities, familiar routines, places that once felt like home, communities where we belonged, the certainty we relied on, and the future we imagined for ourselves. Since these losses often accompany positive life transitions, they're easy to overlook. Rather than recognising that we're grieving, we may interpret our emotions as uncertainty, homesickness, emotional exhaustion, regret, or even evidence that we've made the wrong decision.

None of those emotional experiences necessarily mean we’ve chosen the wrong path. More often, they’re signs that we’re adapting to change while grieving what we’ve left behind.

Recognising that distinction can fundamentally change the way we relate to ourselves during times of change. Instead of questioning our decisions, we can begin to understand that grief isn’t always a sign we’ve chosen the wrong path. Sometimes it’s simply evidence that something meaningful has changed.

When Growth Also Means Loss

One of the things I’ve noticed from living in five different countries — Canada, England, France, the Netherlands, and Hungary — is how each move required me to let go of a previous version of myself.

In London, I was navigating the corporate world while creating a life abroad. In France, I was in a relationship and beginning to question what I wanted for my future. After that relationship ended, I moved into another chapter. In Amsterdam, I built a home with a new partner, returned to university, and managed a yoga studio. In Budapest, after profound loss, I rebuilt my life by studying psychology and creating the private practice I have today.

Looking back, I can see that I wasn’t only grieving the obvious losses. I was also grieving past identities, places that had once felt like home, and versions of my life that no longer existed. Each transition reshaped not only where I lived, but who I was becoming.

Whether your transition involves moving countries, changing careers, becoming a parent, starting a new relationship, or simply growing into a different version of yourself, the psychological process is often remarkably similar. Growth doesn’t require us to choose between embracing what’s ahead and grieving what we’ve left behind. The healthiest transitions often make space for both.

If You’d Like Support

If this resonates with you, therapy can offer a space to make sense of life’s transitions without assuming that every difficult emotion means something has gone wrong. Together, we can explore grief, identity, and change while making sense of the emotions that often accompany life’s biggest transitions. Learn more here.

Related Articles

Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

Feeling Behind in Life as a Digital Nomad?

When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

There are days when your nervous system simply feels more sensitive.

You experience more anxiety, overwhelm, and exhaustion.

Small things affect you more than they normally would.

Nothing significant has happened.

Yet your body feels as though it’s in survival mode.

As a psychologist, this is one of the most common experiences clients bring into my office. While everyone’s story is different, our conversations often lead to the same place: understanding and supporting the nervous system.

Nervous system regulation has become one of the most talked about ideas in mental health and wellness. Yet for all the attention it receives, few of us have been taught what the nervous system actually is, or how to care for it in everyday life.

The good news is that supporting your nervous system doesn’t have to be complicated. It can begin with small, consistent behaviours that help your body feel safer, steadier, and more resilient over time.

Here are some of the practical, evidence-based strategies I regularly share with clients in my clinical practice.

If you’d like more personalised support, you can learn more about working with me here.

What Is the Nervous System?

The nervous system is the body’s communication network. It includes the brain, spinal cord, and a vast network of nerves that carry information between your brain and the rest of your body.

One of its primary jobs is to keep you safe. It is constantly scanning your environment for cues of safety and potential threat, adjusting your body’s responses accordingly.

Supporting your nervous system begins with repeatedly giving your body experiences of safety, connection, and predictability.

Tending to the Organism

Psychotherapist Megan Devine introduced me to the phrase “tend to the organism,” which captures one of the most overlooked aspects of emotional wellbeing.

Our nervous system functions best when our basic physiological needs are consistently supported. Food, water, sleep, movement, sunlight and rest don’t just support our physical health. They also increase our capacity to think clearly, regulate our emotions, adapt to stress, and recover from life’s inevitable challenges.

When you’re feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or emotionally drained, begin by checking in with your body. Has it been given what it needs to support you?

• Have you had enough water today?

• Have you eaten something nourishing?

• Have you had enough sleep recently?

• Have you moved your body today?

• Have you spent some time outside or in natural light?

• Have you taken care of your basic needs, such as showering, brushing your teeth, or getting dressed?

These questions may seem simple, but they are often where nervous system care begins.

When we’re overwhelmed, it’s easy to assume we need a better strategy, more insight, or another solution. Yet some of the most powerful forms of nervous system care are also the most ordinary: eating a nourishing meal, drinking water, moving your body, getting enough rest, spending time outdoors, and caring for yourself.

Before trying to solve anything, support yourself by tending to the organism.

Your Nervous System Learns Through Experience

Every experience we have provides our nervous system with information about whether our environment feels safe, familiar, predictable, or threatening.

In The Body Keeps the Score, psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk describes a survey of 225 survivors of the September 11 terrorist attacks. Many reported that body-based practices such as yoga, massage, acupuncture, and EMDR were among the approaches they found most helpful during their recovery.

Walking, strength training, yoga, dancing, massage, swimming, and time in nature support both your physical health and your nervous system by repeatedly reinforcing experiences of safety and predictability.

The Power of Anchors

When we’re feeling overwhelmed, our nervous system naturally focuses on what feels threatening. Anchors help reconnect us with the present moment, reminding our bodies that safety can exist alongside difficult emotions.

For those of us living abroad, anchors become especially important. When so much around us is unfamiliar, intentionally creating small pockets of familiarity — a favourite café, a regular walking route, the local market, a weekly exercise class, or cooking meals that remind us of home — gives our nervous system something familiar and predictable to return to.

For me, my environment plays a huge role in supporting my nervous system. I keep my flat clean and uncluttered, surround myself with calming colours and plants, and fill it with small comforts like cosy blankets, soft linen sheets, herbal tea, calming scents like jasmine and eucalyptus, and a dedicated space to practise yoga.

Your anchors don’t have to look like mine. They might be your morning coffee, a playlist that reminds you of home, the scent of your favourite candle, time with your pet, a phone call with someone you trust, or simply watching the sunset each evening.

Familiarity is one of the nervous system’s strongest cues of safety. The more predictable our environment becomes, the less energy our brain has to spend scanning for what might happen next.

Your Nervous System Loves Predictability

One of your nervous system’s primary jobs is to predict what will happen next.

Is this environment safe?
What should I expect?
Do I need to stay alert?

Every unfamiliar experience demands something of your nervous system. It has to work harder to gather information, predict what might happen next, and decide whether you’re safe. Over time, that constant state of uncertainty can become exhausting.

When parts of our day become familiar, our nervous system has fewer unknowns to monitor, allowing more energy to be directed toward living rather than simply staying alert.

When life feels uncertain, don’t try to make everything predictable. Instead, focus on creating a few reliable points in your day.

It might be starting your morning with a cup of coffee, taking a walk during your lunch break, attending the same exercise class each week, or calling a friend every Sunday. These routines won’t remove uncertainty, but they give your nervous system something familiar to return to while the rest of life feels less certain.

When you’re living abroad, much of life suddenly becomes unfamiliar. Every new street, language, supermarket, and social interaction asks something of your nervous system. Creating a handful of familiar rituals won’t remove that uncertainty, but it can make living in a new place feel significantly less overwhelming.

When Your Nervous System Is Already Overwhelmed

Supporting your nervous system isn’t only about building healthy habits over time. It’s also about knowing what to do when your nervous system becomes overwhelmed.

When we’re highly activated, our instinct is often to think harder. We replay conversations, search for reassurance, analyse what’s wrong, or try to convince ourselves that everything is okay. Yet when the nervous system is overwhelmed, it often responds more readily to what the body experiences than what the mind understands.

This is where body-based strategies can be particularly helpful. Rather than trying to reason your way out of distress, they give your nervous system opportunities to experience safety directly.

These strategies work because they provide your nervous system with repeated cues of safety, helping it gradually shift out of survival mode.

Some of my favourite ways to support an overwhelmed nervous system include:

• Lengthening your exhale so it becomes slightly longer than your inhale

• Humming, singing, or chanting to create gentle vibration through the body

• Holding a cool pack against your cheeks or splashing cold water on your face

• Taking a slow walk or doing some gentle stretching

• Stepping outside for fresh air and natural light

• Using warmth, such as a hot shower, heating pad, or warm cup of tea

• Practising progressive muscle relaxation by slowly tensing and releasing different muscle groups

None of these techniques are designed to eliminate anxiety altogether. Their purpose is much simpler: to help your nervous system become a little more settled than it was a few moments ago. Often, that’s all your body needs to begin recognising that it is safe.

Final Thoughts

The next time life feels overwhelming, resist the urge to immediately try to solve the problem.

Before searching for answers, support yourself.

Drink some water. Eat something nourishing. Step outside. Move your body. Take a long exhale. Return to one of your anchors. Tend to the organism.

Then notice what feels different.

If this article resonated with you and you’d like more personalised support, I offer online psychological consultation for adults navigating anxiety, trauma, grief, life transitions, and the unique challenges of living abroad. You can learn more about working with me here.

If you’d like to receive future evidence-based articles on psychology, emotional wellbeing, and life as an expat or nomad, you’re also welcome to subscribe below.

You might also enjoy:

• When Uncertainty Feels Like a Problem to Solve

• Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

• Why High-Functioning Expats Need Rest and Recovery

• How to Handle a Panic Attack

You send a message and don’t get a reply.

A friend seems distant.

A date cancels.

You spend a weekend with no plans and find yourself feeling lonely.

A job opportunity falls through.

On their own, these experiences provide surprisingly little information.

Yet it is remarkable how quickly the mind can turn a single event into a conclusion about ourselves, other people or our lives.

My friend doesn’t care about me.
I don’t belong here.
Moving here was a mistake.

Before we realize it, we move from wondering what something means to believing that we already know.

Part of us may recognize that we are making assumptions.

But, the feeling remains convincing.

And when something feels unsettling, we naturally want to make sense of it.

That is often where the story begins.

I work with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults who find themselves caught between what they feel, what they know, and what they fear might be true.

Together, we explore the stories that emerge when uncertainty activates the nervous system and develop practical ways to respond with greater flexibility, self-awareness, and curiosity.

If this resonates with you, you can learn more about working with me here.

The Need to Know

Human beings are not particularly good at dealing with uncertainty.

Most of us would rather settle on an explanation than sit with the unknown.

When something feels unclear, the mind naturally tries to make sense of it.

And when we are emotionally activated, that process often happens so quickly that we barely notice it.

Complexity gives way to certainty.

Possibilities narrow into conclusions.

The Story Feels True Before We Examine It

Much of this process happens outside of our conscious awareness.

A friend cancels plans and we recall every time they seemed unavailable.

A date seems distracted and suddenly their slower replies feel significant.

A lonely weekend feels like proof that we don’t belong.

One difficult week at work becomes evidence that we chose the wrong career.

What began as a single moment starts to feel like evidence about who someone is, who we are, or whether our lives are heading in the right direction.

The story may or may not be accurate.

But it gives us the sense that we understand what is happening.

For a nervous system struggling with uncertainty, an incomplete answer can feel more comforting than not knowing.

Why This Pattern Is Common Among Expats and Nomads

If you live an international lifestyle, you may find yourself navigating this pattern often.

Life in another country frequently requires us to make important decisions with limited information.

We build new friendships without knowing how long either person will stay, how invested they are in the connection or what role they may ultimately play in our lives.

We date people from different cultures and backgrounds, where communication styles, expectations and ways of navigating conflict may look different from our own.

We question whether we belong, and whether we should stay, leave or start again somewhere else.

Uncertainty is woven into many pieces of daily life.

The more uncertainty we are carrying, the easier it becomes for a single experience to feel like evidence that something isn’t working.

When the Story Takes Hold

In therapy, I often see people become certain about what an event means before the full picture has emerged.

Recently, I worked with a client who felt convinced that a friendship was ending after a disappointing interaction.

By the time we spoke, the issue was no longer the interaction itself, but the meaning that had been assigned to it.

The client had moved from:

“My friend seemed distant.”

to

“My friend doesn’t care about me.”

The shift from possibility to conviction happened so quickly that it went largely unnoticed.

It simply felt true.

What I found interesting was not whether the client’s conclusion was correct, but how quickly it became the lens through which everything else was viewed.

The reality was that we did not yet know what the interaction meant.

Yet the conversation was no longer about understanding the situation.

It was about responding to a conclusion that already felt true.

The Space Between What We Feel and What We Know

One of my favourite concepts from Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT) is the idea of Wise Mind.

DBT teaches that we all have both an emotional mind and a rational mind.

The emotional mind helps us understand how an experience feels.

The rational mind helps us consider facts, evidence, and context.

When uncertainty feels uncomfortable, the emotional mind often starts speaking the loudest.

The feeling becomes so convincing that it starts to look like a fact.

Wise Mind invites us to bring both perspectives together.

It asks us to take our feelings seriously without assuming they tell us everything we need to know.

From that perspective, we can ask an important question:

What if both are true?

I can feel disappointed by someone and recognize that I may not know the full story.

I can feel lonely and still be building a meaningful life in my new country.

I can feel anxious about a decision and recognize that it may still be the right one.

I can miss aspects of my old life while also valuing the life I am creating now.

It is possible to feel hurt and acknowledge that we do not know what someone else’s behaviour means.

Loneliness can be present without the conclusion that we do not belong.

And uncertainty can exist without requiring an immediate answer.

Over time, the nervous system learns that while uncertainty is uncomfortable, it is not necessarily dangerous.

Wise Mind reminds us that feeling something strongly is not the same as knowing what it means.

Curiosity creates space between what we feel and what we assume.

And sometimes, that space changes everything.

Curiosity Over Certainty

Uncertainty is an unavoidable part of being human.

No matter where we live, who we love or how carefully we plan, there will always be moments when we simply do not have enough information.

A message will go unanswered.

Someone we care about will behave in a way we do not fully understand.

If you live an international lifestyle, you may spend a significant amount of time learning to move forward without all the information you would like.

The challenge is not uncertainty itself, but the stories we create when our nervous system struggles to tolerate it.

Do we become curious?

Or do we rush to fill in the blanks?

The stories we create may sometimes be accurate.

But they are not always the only explanation available to us.

The stories we create can help us make sense of our experiences, but they are not always the complete picture.

Sometimes the wisest response is not to find certainty, but to stay curious a little longer.

Many of the people I work with are not struggling because they lack answers, but because uncertainty feels overwhelming.

Together, we explore the stories that emerge when uncertainty activates the nervous system, and develop practical ways to respond with greater flexibility, self-awareness, and curiosity.

If you’d like support with this process, you can learn more about working with me here.

Related Articles

• Why You Keep Thinking About Moving Again

• Expat Life Got You Exhausted? Here's How to Recover from Cultural Burnout

• Freeze Response vs Procrastination: Why You're Stuck (and Not Lazy)

• When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

You finally built the life you wanted abroad.

You found an apartment.

Created routines.

Built a sense of community that took time and effort to create.

Life in your new home feels relatively stable.

Yet you find yourself browsing apartment listings in another city.

Checking outbound flights.

Wondering what it would feel like to start over somewhere new.

Maybe life would feel different there.
Maybe you would feel different there.

Perhaps you find yourself spending hours researching places to live and comparing your current life to an imagined one somewhere else.

You may catch yourself wondering whether another city would make it easier to find community, meet a partner, feel inspired again, or finally feel at home.

What can feel confusing is that these thoughts often appear after you’ve built many of the things you moved abroad to create:
Freedom.
Independence.
Meaningful relationships.
An international life that took years to build.

If this is happening, it does not necessarily mean that something is wrong with your current city or the life you have built there.

Sometimes the restlessness appears after life has finally started to settle down.

And when we look at how much adaptation is required to build a life abroad, that reaction starts to make sense.

I work with expats and internationally mobile adults who find themselves navigating questions around identity, belonging, burnout, grief, and the search for a place that feels like home. If this feels familiar, you can learn more about working with me at christinababich.com.

When Change Becomes Familiar

One thing many expats and digital nomads underestimate is how much adaptation is required to build a life abroad.

New cultures.
New communities.
New relationships.
New systems to navigate.

For years, much of your energy may have gone toward navigating unfamiliar cultures, rebuilding community, making major life decisions, adapting to uncertainty, and creating a new life.

There has always been something to figure out.
A new challenge to navigate.
Something to solve.

Your attention was focused on what came next.

Eventually, the life you spent years building starts to feel normal.

The grocery store is familiar.

You know how the bureaucracy works.

You no longer need Google Maps to get everywhere.

The things that once felt new and exciting have become part of everyday life.

What can feel confusing is that we often mistake the discomfort of settling for a sign that we need to start over.

Why Restlessness Can Feel So Convincing

When discomfort appears, it is almost automatic to assume that something in our life needs to change.

And our attention often turns toward where we are living and whether somewhere else might feel better.

Perhaps you find yourself imagining a city with better weather, a larger international community, more career opportunities, or a dating scene that feels more aligned with what you are looking for.

The story often sounds something like this:

Maybe I need a change.

Maybe this city isn’t right.

Maybe I’d feel more connected somewhere else.

Maybe I’d finally feel at home.

The thoughts themselves are not the problem. The challenge is when we mistake them for certainty.

These thoughts can emerge from a genuine desire for change, but they can also be an attempt to make sense of feelings that have little to do with the city itself.

The work is learning to understand what sits beneath the urge before acting on it.

Making Sense of the Feeling

One of the most useful ideas from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is learning to observe our thoughts and feelings without immediately acting on them.

When the mind starts generating stories about why we feel restless, our first impulse is often to treat those thoughts as instructions.

I need a change.

This city isn’t right.

I should move somewhere else.

ACT invites us to do something different.

Rather than immediately deciding whether those thoughts are true, we create enough space to notice them for what they are: thoughts, feelings, and urges that are showing up in the present moment.

From that place, we can become more curious:

Does this feeling require action, or simply attention?

What am I hoping another city will change?

If I stayed exactly where I am, what would still need my attention?

The next step may be a new city, or a different relationship with the life you have already built.

Sometimes Moving Is The Right Decision

Sometimes we simply outgrow a city.

Relationships end.

Priorities change.

Work contracts run out.

The life we want to build evolves.

In these moments, moving can be a genuine act of growth.

Sometimes the answer is a new city.

Other times, the work is learning how to settle into the life you have already built.

The challenge is learning whether you are moving toward the life you want to build, or simply away from a feeling you no longer want to experience.

Author’s Note

If you are navigating questions around identity, belonging, burnout, grief, or the search for a place that feels like home, you do not have to figure it out alone.

I work with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating these challenges while building lives abroad.

For information about working with me, click here.

Related Articles

• Why Expat Burnout Is Different Than Regular Burnout

• Feeling On Edge For No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

• When Everything Looks Right But Doesn’t Feel Right

You probably left home to build a life with more adventure, opportunity, freedom, expansion, personal growth, and a day-to-day rhythm that aligns with who you are.

But there are parts of international life that only become clear once you are living them — including what it feels like to build a meaningful life far away from the people who matter to you.

Expats and digital nomads often experience conflicting emotions at the same time: gratitude for the life they have built, grief for what they miss, and guilt about the impact their choices may have on the people they love.

For many globally mobile adults, guilt emerges from wanting to be there in ways that distance simply does not allow.

Guilt often creates a sense that something needs to be done.

The nervous system naturally responds by looking for ways to reduce the discomfort.

This can work well when a problem has a solution.

The challenge is that some experiences are painful without being fixable.

Living far away from people you love is one of them.

When distance starts to feel like something that should be fixed, it can begin to feel like an invisible emotional debt — a feeling that you owe something to the people you love because you cannot always be physically present.

You may find yourself drafting a message you do not really want to send, booking a trip you cannot really afford, or saying yes to something you do not genuinely have the capacity for simply because guilt makes saying no feel uncomfortable.

You may notice yourself thinking:

I chose this, so...

…I should be the one who makes the effort.

…I should adapt.

…I should be the person who asks for less.

When guilt is mixed with love, it can be challenging to know where one ends and the other begins.

The line between staying connected because you care and proving that you care can become difficult to recognize — and exhausting to maintain.

The Different Ways We Try to Compensate

As both a psychologist and someone who has spent more than nine years building a life abroad, I have seen different versions of this pattern emerge repeatedly — in my own life and in my work with expats and digital nomads.

Some people find themselves absorbing endless emotional venting from family members because it feels like one of the few ways they can contribute from afar.

Others become hypervigilant about maintaining relationships, constantly wondering whether they have called enough, checked-in enough, or shared enough.

Some repeatedly travel home, not because they genuinely want to, but because guilt makes saying no feel impossible.

Others put their own plans on hold for their family members or close friends who assume they will eventually move back.

Although these situations look different on the surface, they often share the same underlying belief: Since I chose to leave, I owe more.

When Guilt Becomes Compensation

Meaningful relationships inevitably involve uncomfortable emotions such as guilt, grief, sadness, and longing.

These emotions often signal what matters to us.

Guilt itself is not the problem — the challenge is when it transforms care into over-responsibility.

Rather than simply participating in our relationships, we may begin feeling responsible for managing the impact that distance has on them.

Over time, staying connected can begin to feel like an obligation.

This responsibility has no clear endpoint.

And the reality is that no amount of extra effort can make-up for the impact that distance has on our meaningful relationships.

The Debt Can Never Be Fully Repaid

Living abroad inevitably changes the role we are able to play in the lives of the people we love.

As humans, we are wired to respond to discomfort. When something feels painful or unresolved, the nervous system naturally looks for ways to make it stop.

This can work well when a problem has a solution.

But not all uncomfortable emotions are linked to solvable problems.

Some consequences of living abroad are painful without being fixable.

No amount of overcompensation will stop people from missing you, wishing you lived closer, or feeling the impact of your absence.

The challenge is learning to accept these realities rather than treating them as problems that need to be solved.

When distance is treated as a personal failure rather than a natural consequence of living abroad, guilt becomes a debt that never feels fully repaid.

Not Every Feeling Requires Action

One of the most difficult aspects of guilt is that it often creates a powerful urge to act.

Call.
Explain.
Visit.
Fix.
Reassure.
Compromise.

When we care deeply about people, these urges can become so compelling that they lead us to compromise our own needs.

An urge is not the same thing as an obligation.

One helpful question is: If guilt were not present, would I still want to do this?

Sometimes the answer is yes.

You genuinely want to call, visit, or offer support.

Other times, you may realize that you are acting primarily to relieve guilt rather than nurture the relationship itself.

This is where many people become trapped in overfunctioning.

Guilt appears and the urge to act immediately follows.

There is little space to pause and ask: Is this responsibility actually mine?

Caring about someone does not mean acting on every urge that guilt creates.

Sometimes it means allowing the discomfort to exist while choosing how you want to respond.

You Do Not Have To Spend Your Life Compensating For Leaving

Living abroad involves countless trade-offs.

It involves grief, the reality that some people wish you lived closer, and accepting that there are consequences of distance that no amount of effort can completely erase.

The people who matter to you will still miss you.

There may be moments when you wish you could be in two places at once.

And times when the distance feels exceptionally painful.

These experiences are not evidence that you have made the wrong decision. They are a natural consequence of building a life somewhere else.

Caring deeply about people does not mean becoming responsible for every consequence of living far away.

You can remain connected to the people who matter while still building a life that reflects your values, goals, and the person you are becoming.

You do not need to stop caring about the people you left behind.

What often needs to shift is the belief that choosing to live abroad obligates you to make-up for the distance in ways that are neither possible nor sustainable.

Distance may shape your relationships, but it does not diminish their importance.

The people you love can matter deeply to you without your life revolving around compensating for your absence.

If This Resonates With You

Many expats and digital nomads find themselves caught between two realities: wanting to build a meaningful life abroad while feeling responsible for the impact that distance has on the people they love.

Over time, guilt can begin shaping decisions, relationships, and the way you relate to yourself.

If you find yourself struggling with guilt, family expectations, people-pleasing, over-responsibility, or the emotional complexity of building a life across countries, therapy can help you clarify what is yours to carry, reconnect with your values, and make decisions that are guided by intention rather than obligation.

I work with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating grief, anxiety, burnout, trauma, major life transitions, and the unique emotional challenges of living abroad.

You can learn more about my work or contact me here:

christinababich.com/contact-me

You may also find these articles helpful:

→ Why Being Around Family Feels Different After Living Abroad

→ Why Expats and Digital Nomads Feel Lonely Abroad Despite Active Social Lives

→ How to Cope When You’re Far Away and Things Go Wrong at Home

→ The Pressure to be the Perfect Expat

I am writing this piece to normalize the importance of taking time off.

I am taking one week off work for vacation, and it made me reflect on how important intentional rest and self-care are for people like me who are high functioning, self-employed, and constantly adapting to life abroad.

Many high-functioning expats and digital nomads — especially those running businesses, freelancing, parenting abroad, caregiving, or adjusting to life in a new country — become so focused on managing responsibilities, maintaining stability, and keeping life moving that their own rest, care, and recovery slowly move to the bottom of the priority list.

You may worry that taking an intentional break could mean falling behind — financially, professionally, socially, or personally — in the life you have worked hard to build abroad.

Over time, it can seem surprisingly easy to stay productive, capable, and outwardly functional while running on exhaustion.

This leads many high-functioning people to view self-care as something they will “get to later.”

After the next deadline.
After things calm down.
After business becomes more stable.
After family goes home.
After life feels less overwhelming.

But expat and digital nomad life rarely stays fully stable for long.

Living abroad means constantly adapting to new environments, routines, social norms, systems, and uncertainty while still trying to maintain work, relationships, responsibilities, and a sense of stability.

Over time, this can place significant pressure on our nervous system, emotional wellbeing, energy levels, and overall capacity.

High-functioning expats and digital nomads need intentional rest, recovery, care, and permission to occasionally slow down.

I’m a psychologist who works with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating burnout, anxiety, trauma, emotional overwhelm, nervous system exhaustion, and major life transitions while living abroad. If you’d like to learn more about my work, you can visit my website here: www.christinababich.com

Living Abroad Requires More Energy

Expat and digital nomad life can feel like organized chaos for the nervous system.

Living abroad requires far more mental energy, adjustment, decision-making, and emotional effort than many people realize until they experience it themselves.

Parts of daily life that once felt automatic — social norms, spoken language, routine, bureaucracy, maintaining relationships, building community, or navigating unfamiliar systems — suddenly require much more concentration and energy.

Even when life abroad is meaningful and exciting, constantly operating in unfamiliar environments places additional demands on the brain and nervous system.

Over time, this can become mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting.

This is why intentional self-care, rest, recovery, and time off matter so much for expats and digital nomads.

They are part of building a sustainable life abroad.

Reframing Self-Care

The term ‘self-care’ gets used constantly in mental health spaces, on social media, and in everyday life.

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), one of the therapeutic approaches I use in my work, encourages us to build lives that are meaningful, sustainable, and aligned with our values while also taking care of our emotional and physical wellbeing along the way.

From an ACT perspective, self-care involves intentionally engaging in behaviours that support our wellbeing, relationships, energy, emotional resilience, and overall capacity to sustain meaningful lives over time.

Sometimes, that includes intentionally stepping away from work, responsibility, productivity, and the constant pressure to keep everything moving.

Vacations, rest, enjoyable experiences, and periods of recovery can help create space for the mind and nervous system to slow down, recover, and temporarily step out of “go mode.”

And self-care does not need to involve expensive travel or luxury wellness culture.

Sometimes it looks like:

• Cooking dinner for your partner or a friend and leaving your phone in another room

• Taking a long walk without listening to podcasts, emails, or notifications

• Spending uninterrupted time in nature

• Taking a long weekend where you genuinely disconnect from work

• Getting a massage after weeks or months of carrying tension and stress in your body

• Reading something purely for enjoyment instead of productivity

• Spending time with people you feel emotionally safe around

• Allowing yourself slower mornings without immediately reaching for your phone

• Moving your body in ways that feel enjoyable rather than punishing

• Making space for hobbies, creativity, rest, or moments of pleasure that have nothing to do with achievement

• Giving yourself permission to occasionally do less without feeling guilty

Small intentional moments of rest, care, enjoyment, and recovery can make a meaningful difference over time.

If You Feel Guilty About Taking Time Off

Many high-functioning people become so used to functioning while stressed and exhausted that it eventually starts to feel normal.

Yet over time, constantly ignoring our own stress, emotional needs, and limits can slowly affect the way we show up in the areas of life that matter most to us.

We may become less patient, more emotionally reactive, more disconnected, or more easily overwhelmed by everyday responsibilities. Relationships can feel more strained, and creativity, enjoyment, and emotional presence often begin to decrease when we spend too long operating from a place of exhaustion.

Rest and self-care are not selfish distractions from our responsibilities.

They help support our capacity to remain emotionally available, present, connected, patient, creative, and engaged in the lives we are building.

Taking care of ourselves often helps us take better care of the people, relationships, businesses, communities, and responsibilities that matter most to us.

In Closing

Many people living abroad spend so much time adapting, planning, managing responsibilities, and keeping life moving that it becomes easy to stop prioritizing moments of rest, enjoyment, recovery, and care.

Taking intentional time away from work and responsibility can help us return with more clarity, creativity, patience, energy, and emotional presence in the areas of life that matter most to us.

For myself, I know that taking a week off ultimately helps me better support my clients, relationships, business, and the people I care about most.

If you have been functioning in “go mode” for a long time, I hope this article reminds you that you are allowed to slow down and care for yourself too.

If you are struggling with burnout, emotional overwhelm, anxiety, nervous system exhaustion, trauma, or the emotional demands of living abroad, therapy can help you better understand your patterns, care for your nervous system, and build a more sustainable life abroad.

I work with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating trauma, burnout, anxiety, grief, emotional overwhelm, and major life transitions.

I am currently accepting new clients. You can learn more about my work or contact me here: www.christinababich.com/contact-me

I am currently taking a short vacation and look forward to getting back to new inquiries once I return.

You may also find these articles helpful:

• Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

• Digital Nomad Work–Life Blur: When Your Mind Is Always “On”

• Burnout in High-Achieving Expats: When Accomplishment Masks Exhaustion

You finally moved abroad.

Maybe this was a move that you dreamed about for years: a fresh start, more freedom, adventure, better weather, or distance from painful memories.

You imagined yourself feeling calmer, lighter, more grounded.

Instead, you notice that you feel:

• More anxious

• Emotionally overwhelmed

• Hypervigilant

• Exhausted

• Lonely

• Irritable

Or maybe symptoms that you thought you had “moved past” suddenly feel stronger and more present throughout the day.

You may notice yourself overthinking social interactions, struggling to relax, shutting down, feeling constantly “on edge,” or becoming overwhelmed by situations that once felt manageable.

If this is happening, it does not necessarily mean that you made the wrong decision to move abroad, are failing at recovery, or that something is inherently wrong with you.

For many trauma survivors, moving abroad can amplify patterns that previously felt more manageable.

And when we look at what living abroad actually requires from us emotionally, this reaction starts to make sense.

Moving to a new country often involves uncertainty, isolation, identity shifts, emotional overstimulation, and constant adaptation, all of which can feel especially intense when the body is already carrying unresolved trauma.

And when you are living abroad far away from familiar people, routines, language, culture, and support systems, those protective patterns can suddenly feel much louder.

I’m a psychologist who works with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating trauma, grief, anxiety, burnout, and emotional overwhelm while living abroad. You can learn more about my work here: christinababich.com

Why Life Abroad Can Feel So Intense

Living abroad requires constant adaptation that people often underestimate.

You may be navigating unfamiliar social norms, trying to build community, or simply moving through environments where you do not fully understand what is happening around you.

Even simple daily tasks — going to the grocery store, making phone calls, booking appointments, navigating bureaucracy, or trying to socialize — can suddenly require far more energy, concentration, and emotional effort than they used to.

Over time, living in this constant state of adaptation can become exhausting.

Especially when you are simultaneously trying to build a life, maintain relationships, work, and hold yourself together far away from the people, routines, and places that once helped you feel grounded.

For many people, this ongoing uncertainty and overstimulation can make it difficult for the nervous system to fully relax.

Your Nervous System Is Trying to Protect You

One way I often describe the nervous system to clients is to imagine that your consciousness is the driver of a car, and your nervous system is the passenger beside you.

Sometimes that passenger is incredibly helpful.

It helps you notice danger, stay alert, react quickly, and protect yourself when something genuinely feels unsafe.

But after trauma, the nervous system can become more sensitive and protective.

It may start reacting strongly to situations that feel uncertain, unfamiliar, emotionally unsafe, or difficult to predict — even when the rational part of you knows: “I’m safe right now.”

This does not mean you are weak, dramatic, or failing at recovery.

At some point, your body learned that staying highly alert was necessary for survival.

And when life abroad suddenly feels unfamiliar, overstimulating, and emotionally unpredictable, those protective patterns can become much louder.

How This Can Show Up in Daily Life

Sometimes nervous system activation is obvious: panic attacks, hypervigilance, or feeling overwhelmed in unfamiliar environments.

But often, it appears in more subtle ways.

Many trauma survivors are highly functional.

They work, travel, build careers, maintain relationships, and continue moving forward even while feeling tense, disconnected, emotionally reactive, or exhausted.

You may notice yourself overthinking social interactions for hours afterward, struggling to relax even in objectively safe environments, or drained by interactions and responsibilities that once felt manageable.

Some people begin withdrawing socially.
Others feel constantly “on” around other people, emotionally reactive, or overwhelmed by situations that once felt manageable.

Many also feel confused because, outwardly, their life abroad appears exciting or successful, while internally they feel anxious, disconnected, overstimulated, lonely, or emotionally exhausted.

Nothing Is Wrong With You

If you recognize yourself in this article, it does not mean you are incapable of building a meaningful life abroad.

Your nervous system is, in many ways, responding exactly as it was designed to.

Humans are wired to notice danger, seek safety, and adapt to environments that feel uncertain, unfamiliar, isolating, or emotionally overwhelming.

For those of us with trauma histories, the nervous system often learns to stay more alert to protect us from further pain, instability, rejection, loss, or danger.

These reactions developed for a reason.

At some point, they helped you survive difficult, painful, overwhelming, or unpredictable experiences.

Healing involves gradually supporting the nervous system to experience more safety, stability, flexibility, connection, and rest over time.

For many people, this starts with understanding their reactions as adaptive responses shaped by difficult experiences.

If living abroad has intensified trauma symptoms for you, it may help to:

• Create more consistency and routine where possible

• Reduce chronic overwhelm and overstimulation

• Prioritize rest and nervous system recovery

• Build emotionally safe relationships and community

• Spend time in environments where you feel more grounded

• Seek trauma-informed support if needed

I discuss nervous system care in my article Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System.

Sometimes the goal is learning how to feel safer, more connected, and more supported in the life you are building.

If you are struggling with trauma symptoms, anxiety, burnout, emotional overwhelm, or nervous system exhaustion while living abroad, you do not have to navigate it alone.

I work with expats, digital nomads, and internationally mobile adults navigating trauma, grief, anxiety, burnout, identity disruption, and emotional overwhelm while building lives abroad.

Therapy can help you better understand your reactions, build emotional safety, and create more stability and connection in the life you are building.

For information on my approach to trauma click here

To contact me for a free consultation click here

Related Articles:

Feeling On Edge for No Reason: Why Emotional Regulation Isn’t About Calming Down

How to Handle a Panic Attack

When Everything Looks Right but Doesn’t Feel Right

Why Expat Burnout is Different than Regular Burnout

Maybe your family is coming to visit you abroad. Maybe you are about to return home. Either way, you are about to spend several weeks together for the first time in months or even years.

Part of you feels genuinely excited and relieved at the thought of reconnecting.

Another part feels emotionally on edge just imagining the time together.

Unlike everyday family contact, expat reunions often carry emotional pressure for the time together to feel meaningful, connected, and worth the distance.

You may catch yourself mentally rehearsing conversations, worrying about prolonged proximity, craving alone time before anyone has even arrived, or fantasizing about shortening the visit.

If you love your family, why does this feel so overwhelming?

I work with many expats and digital nomads who feel emotionally conflicted, unexpectedly activated, or deeply overwhelmed during extended time with family. If you are navigating complicated family dynamics, burnout, loneliness, attachment-related stress, or nervous system exhaustion while living abroad, you can learn more about working with me here: www.christinababich.com

Living Abroad Can Create Emotional Breathing Room

While some expats intentionally move abroad to create distance from harmful or abusive family relationships, many others only recognize after leaving home how much physical distance from family improves their emotional wellbeing.

For some people, this comes from finally having space from constant emotional adaptation: family expectations, tension, criticism, over-involvement, unpredictability, or feeling emotionally responsible for other people.

With distance, many people begin realizing how much of their attention once went toward keeping the peace, avoiding tension, managing other people’s emotions, or trying not to upset anyone.

Patterns that once felt normal can suddenly look very different from a distance.

Living abroad may also become the first time someone begins making decisions based on what actually feels healthy, safe, or emotionally sustainable for them, rather than what keeps everyone else comfortable.

This can feel both freeing and confronting, bringing painful realizations into focus: how difficult it feels to rely on other people emotionally, how uncomfortable closeness can become, or how much of someone’s identity has been shaped around coping alone.

Allow Space for Multiple Emotional Realities to Coexist

Extended time with family can feel emotionally confusing. You may deeply love people while also feeling overwhelmed, emotionally activated, exhausted, or unlike yourself around them.

It can feel disorienting to miss people intensely and then suddenly crave distance once you are reunited.

For many expats, this emotional push-pull quickly turns into guilt and self-judgment:

“If I love my family, why am I so irritated?”
“If I missed them so much, why do I suddenly want space?”
“Why does being around people I care about feel so emotionally intense?”

It is important to note that conflicting feelings do not cancel each other out.

Needing space does not mean you love people less. Feeling emotionally activated does not make you selfish, cold, or ungrateful. Often, these reactions reflect how much emotional history, attachment, responsibility, and accumulated nervous system memory exist inside family relationships.

Many people judge themselves harshly instead of recognizing how psychologically intense prolonged family closeness can actually feel.

These emotional contradictions are not signs that something is wrong with you. They are part of being human.

Protecting Your Nervous System During Family Visits

Many expats feel guilty for needing space, alone time, emotional distance, or recovery during family visits, especially when time together feels limited, expensive, or emotionally significant.

Caring for your nervous system is what allows connection to remain sustainable.

Without enough space to decompress, people often become more emotionally reactive, irritable, shut down, resentful, or unlike themselves around family.

Supporting yourself during extended visits may involve:
protecting alone time before reaching exhaustion,
taking walks or breaks after emotionally intense interactions,
limiting overscheduling,
maintaining routines that help you feel grounded,
staying in separate accommodations,
or giving yourself space before responding to emotionally loaded conversations.

For some people, boundaries also involve recognizing that they do not need to manage everyone else emotionally in order to maintain connection.

You do not need to mediate every conflict, absorb everyone’s emotions, keep the atmosphere stable, or sacrifice your wellbeing to prevent discomfort in others.

At times, healthy boundaries can feel uncomfortable, guilt-provoking, or emotionally unfamiliar — particularly for people who learned to prioritize other people’s emotional needs over their own.

Discomfort does not automatically mean the boundary is wrong.

Often, protecting your emotional wellbeing is what allows you to remain more connected to both yourself and the people you care about.

If Extended Time with Family Feels Emotionally Complicated

If spending time with family leaves you feeling emotionally overwhelmed, guilty, dysregulated, disconnected from yourself, or unlike the version of yourself you know abroad, you are far from alone.

For many expats and globally mobile people, extended time with family reactivates old attachment patterns, emotional survival strategies, and nervous system responses all at once.

Feeling emotionally activated around family does not erase the growth you have made while living abroad.

Sometimes it simply reveals how deeply we can carry relational patterns long after leaving the environments where they were learned.

If this article resonated with you, you may also relate to:

• Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere

• Why Expats and Digital Nomads Feel Lonely Abroad Despite Active Social Lives

• Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System

• Why Relocating Again Feels Scarier Than It Used To

• Expat Burnout Is Different From Ordinary Burnout

I work with many expats and digital nomads navigating complicated family dynamics, emotional overwhelm, burnout, attachment-related stress, grief, loneliness, and nervous system exhaustion while living abroad.

If you are looking for structured, clinically grounded support, you can learn more about working with me here: www.christinababich.com

This can feel especially disorienting if you previously associated major life changes with freedom, possibility, excitement, or reinvention rather than emotional distress.

Part of you may genuinely want the opportunity in front of you.

Another part may feel terrified by the uncertainty, emotional exposure, and lack of control involved.

You may notice yourself oscillating between:

“This could be amazing.”

and

“What if I’m making a huge mistake?”

For many people, there is grief in noticing that opportunities which once felt expansive and freeing now feel threatening instead.

Allowing space for our emotions, responding to them thoughtfully, and approaching ourselves with self-compassion can make major life transitions feel less overwhelming.

I work with many expats and digital nomads who feel exactly like this — overwhelmed by opportunities they technically still want, emotionally stuck around change, or confused by how anxious relocation suddenly feels.

If that’s something you’re navigating and you want structured, clinically grounded support, you can learn more about working with me here:

Christina Babich Psychologist Website

When Relocation Anxiety Feels Overwhelming

One of the most challenging parts about relocation anxiety is how convincing it feels.

If anticipating your upcoming move leads to panic, dread, racing thoughts, physical anxiety symptoms, emotional shutdown, or the urge to cancel entirely, the mind naturally starts trying to explain the feeling:

“This is a bad idea.”

“I can’t handle this.”

“Something bad is going to happen.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

Often, relocation anxiety reflects prolonged stress, burnout, grief, exhaustion, instability, or repeated periods of uncertainty that have changed how the nervous system responds to change.

In those moments, uncertainty may feel emotionally threatening to the nervous system.

Cancelling your trip or convincing yourself not to move might temporarily feel relieving because it creates distance from the uncertainty that is activating you.

Yet when we consistently respond to difficult emotions by avoiding, escaping, or shutting them down, emotional experiences often start to feel even more threatening over time.

The truth is, anxiety can feel deeply uncomfortable without meaning that anything is wrong.

Importantly:

emotions are not facts,

emotions are not dangerous,

and emotions are temporary.

Viewing emotions as information, rather than directives, can create enough space for us to respond more intentionally rather than react automatically.

Multiple Emotional Realities Can Coexist

When anxiety or grief appear around a major life decision, many people instinctively try to push those emotions away and focus only on the positive.

But emotional maturity does not require us to immediately “pick a side” internally.

Major life transitions are usually emotionally layered.

You may feel grateful for the opportunity in front of you while also feeling terrified by the uncertainty involved.

You may feel excited about what comes next while grieving the end of this current chapter too.

You may deeply want the move while still feeling vulnerable around the reality of change.

This is human.

And it is far more common than people realize.

Often, these conflicting emotions reflect that the transition matters, your system feels vulnerable, and experiences of loss and expansion are happening at the same time.

Wise Mind: Responding to Emotions with Reason

In Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT), there is a concept called Wise Mind – the space where emotions and reason coexist.

When we feel emotionally overwhelmed, it becomes easy to slip into our emotional mind, where fear, panic, grief, or uncertainty shape how we interpret reality.

In contrast, some people cope by shutting emotions down entirely and focusing only on logistics, productivity, or problem-solving.

Wise Mind encourages us to make space for emotions while also staying connected to perspective, context, and reality.

Practising Wise Mind involves validating how we feel while also grounding ourselves in facts.

It may sound like:

“This move feels scary right now, and that does not automatically mean it is the wrong decision.”

“I feel overwhelmed, and I also know I’ve handled difficult transitions before.”

“Part of me wants to avoid this entirely, and another part of me genuinely wants this opportunity.”

“This feels emotionally difficult, and I have tools and support to help me through it.”

When emotions are validated and given space to exist — while also being grounded in facts and perspective — they often become less overwhelming over time.

Meeting Yourself with Compassion

A painful aspect of relocation anxiety is how quickly many people begin judging themselves for struggling.

You may notice thoughts filled with self-criticism, comparison, frustration, impatience, or shame.

Part of the difficulty is that anxiety can make people feel as though they are doing something wrong simply because they feel overwhelmed.

Anxiety around major life transitions often reflects emotional vulnerability, uncertainty, and the reality that something meaningful is changing.

This is where self-compassion becomes important.

Self-compassion may look like noticing how you are feeling, validating what is coming up emotionally, and speaking to yourself with the same kindness and understanding you would likely offer a close friend or loved one.

It may sound like:

“I am struggling right now and that does not make me weak.”

“Of course this feels difficult, this transition matters deeply to me.”

“I’ve been through a lot over the past few years. Of course my nervous system is responding differently than it once did.”

“Feeling anxious does not mean I’m incapable of handling change.”

How we speak to ourselves matters — especially during periods of uncertainty, transition, and change.

You Do Not Need to Force Yourself Through Anxiety Alone

Travel culture often romanticizes pushing through fear.

People hear:

“Just say yes.”

“Growth happens outside your comfort zone.”

“Don’t let fear stop you.”

There is a difference between healthy expansion and chronically overriding your emotional capacity.

If relocation anxiety is significantly impacting your quality of life, there is nothing wrong with slowing down, postponing decisions, or seeking support before forcing yourself into another major transition.

Sometimes people assume that needing support means they are no longer capable of change.

In reality, therapy can help people better understand their anxiety patterns, rebuild emotional safety, strengthen self-trust, and approach major transitions in a way that feels more grounded and sustainable.

You do not need to white-knuckle your way through overwhelming change to prove that you are still adventurous, adaptable, or capable.

If this resonates, you may also relate to:

• Living Abroad in Survival Mode: How to Tend to Your Nervous System

• How to Handle a Panic Attack

• Feeling On Edge for No Reason? What’s Happening in Your Nervous System

• How to Cope When You’re Faraway and Things Go Wrong at Home

• When Everything Looks Right but Doesn’t Feel Right

If You Want Support

If you’re navigating relocation anxiety, emotional overwhelm, burnout, or chronic stress while living abroad, this is exactly the type of work I support clients through in therapy.

You can learn more about my work around anxiety and panic here:

Anxiety and Panic Therapy

You can also read more about expat and cultural burnout here:

Expat and Cultural Burnout Support

Or learn more about working with me as an English-speaking therapist for expats and digital nomads here:

Christina Babich Psychologist Website

You can be completely safe and still feel on edge.

Your body feels tight, restless, slightly alert.

Nothing is happening. There’s no immediate problem.

And yet something feels off.

So your mind tries to make sense of it:
I must be anxious.
I need to calm down.
Something is wrong with me.
I need to react in some way to fix this feeling.

That interpretation is the problem.

Not the feeling itself.

What’s Really Going On

Your nervous system is designed to detect threats and keep you alive.

Not just obvious danger, but anything it interprets as instability, uncertainty, or loss of control.

This means your brain and body can register something as threatening even when you are technically safe.

These “false alarms” are often triggered by:

• Uncertainty

• Instability

• Emotional exposure

• Loss of control

• Disconnection from your body, relationships, or environment

If you’ve been under chronic stress, experienced trauma, or lived through repeated instability, your system becomes extra sensitive.

It doesn’t wait for clear danger.
It gets in the habit of anticipating that something bad is about to happen.

This is where people get stuck in:

• Hyperactivation: anxiety, urgency, overthinking, panic

• Hypoactivation: shutdown, numbness, disconnection

It’s easy to interpret these responses as something you should be able to think your way out of.

But your nervous system does not respond to logic or reason.
Your system responds to perceived threats.

I work with a lot of expats and digital nomads who feel exactly like this — on edge, disconnected, or unable to fully settle, even when life looks fine on the surface.

If that’s something you’re navigating and you want structured, clinically grounded support, you can learn more about working with me here: www.christinababich.com

Why This Is So Common When You Live Abroad

Living abroad creates a baseline level of instability, even when you have chosen it, and feel aligned with your lifestyle.

You are repeatedly:

• Rebuilding routines

• Navigating uncertainty (visas, housing, work)

• Letting go of familiar environments

• Living without consistent anchors

• Re-establishing community

• Making ongoing decisions about where to go next

Your system registers this as: something isn’t fully stable or predictable yet.

So it stays on alert.

Your nervous system cannot separate one stressor from another.
It responds to the overall levels of instability.

Over time, this can show up as:

• Feeling on edge “for no reason”

• Emotional reactivity that feels disproportionate

• Difficulty settling, even in safe environments

• Periods of disconnection or shutdown

If this resonates, you’ll likely relate to these as well:
→ Why Digital Nomads Often Feel Like They Don’t Belong Anywhere
→ Why Expats and Digital Nomads Feel Lonely Abroad Despite Active Social Lives

Emotional Regulation Is Not What You May Think

Most people approach emotional regulation as: getting rid of uncomfortable feelings.

That’s not regulation.

Emotional regulation is: increasing your capacity to stay with what you feel without your system escalating or shutting down.

This is a different goal and with more realistic outcomes.

What Is Helpful (and Why)

1. Grounding: Orientation Before Calm

When your system is activated, it loses orientation.

Grounding is not about relaxing.
It’s about telling your brain: this is where I am.

Try:

• 5 things you can see

• 4 things you can feel

• 3 things you can hear

• 2 things you can smell

• 1 thing you can taste

This reduces threat scanning by reorienting you to the present.

2. Breathwork: You Can’t Outthink Physiology

If your breath is shallow and fast, your body stays on alert.

You don’t need complex techniques.

Just extend your exhale:

• Inhale 4

• Exhale 6–8

This signals safety to your system.

3. Movement: Regulation Is Not Static

When your system is activated, the energy needs somewhere to go.

Trying to relax without releasing that energy often backfires.

Focus on:

• Walking

• Stretching

• Slow, repetitive movement

The goal is not to calm your body, but to complete the stress response.

4. Thought Work: Timing Matters

If your system is highly activated, cognitive work won’t help things calm.

Regulate first, then work to shift your thinking.

Instead of: “I can’t handle this”

Try: “This feels like a lot, and I’ve handled this feeling before.”

This acknowledges the emotion while bringing in facts and reality.

5. Don’t Try to “Fix” the Feeling

Constantly trying to get rid of how you feel often increases dysregulation.

A supportive shift is: “I don’t like this feeling, but I can stay present and still choose what matters.”

That is emotional regulation at practice.

The Part You May Not Like to Hear

You can use every tool in this article.

If your life lacks structure, your system will keep reactivating.

This is especially true if you’re:

• Moving frequently

• Living without routine

• Lacking consistent relationships

• Constantly adapting

At that point, this isn’t just emotional regulation.

It’s a lifestyle-level nervous system issue.

These are different symptoms of the same underlying load.

You might also notice overlap with:
→ Digital Nomad Work–Life Blur: When Your Mind Is Always “On”
→ Expat Life Got You Exhausted? Here’s How to Recover from Cultural Burnout

Final Thought

Not feeling safe in your body is not a personal failing.

It usually means your system has adapted to unpredictability, and hasn’t had enough consistent signals that it can stand down.

Emotional regulation is not about being calm all the time.

It’s about becoming: less disrupted by what you feel, and more able to stay present inside it.

If You Want Support

If you’re navigating this while living abroad, dealing with transitions, or feeling chronically unsettled — this is exactly the work I do with clients.

You don’t need more coping tools. You need support that actually makes sense of what’s happening internally.

You can book a free consultation here:
www.christinababich.com/contact-me

A panic attack when you’ve just arrived in a new place, barely know anyone, and feel completely on your own? That can feel especially destabilizing.

In the first six months after I moved to London, I had a panic attack every Sunday. I would sit in my room feeling completely disconnected while all of my longstanding relationships were an ocean away. I felt embarrassed that my nervous system was reacting this way and afraid to tell my new friends what was happening. In reality, they likely would have been compassionate and caring.

The truth is: panic attacks are common. And, they don’t just come from internal stress, social anxiety, or self-doubt.

Panic attacks intensify when your nervous system cannot locate safety in your environment.

When everything is new and unfamiliar, your brain scans for something predictable to signal: you’re safe here.

When that signal is missing, your brain can default to: I’m not safe.

And without anything to anchor to, panic can escalate quickly.

What’s Happening

A panic attack is a surge of nervous system activation. Your body is preparing you to respond to a threat, even if nothing dangerous is present.

It can feel intense, overwhelming, and convincing. But panic attacks are not dangerous.

When you’re in a new or unfamiliar environment, your nervous system is working hard to:

• Scan for safety

• Adjust to new surroundings

• Function without consistent, reliable support

When your nervous system cannot orient to something familiar, the feeling of panic becomes more overwhelming.

That absence of external anchors often leads your thoughts to fill in the gap: I’m alone, so I’m not safe.

Why “Just Calm Down” Doesn’t Work During a Panic Attack

Most advice tells you to calm down, breathe, or remind yourself that it will pass.

However – when panic is high, talking yourself out of it rarely works.

Since emotions are not dangerous, you do not have to eliminate the panic.

To slow a panic attack from escalating, you need to create an anchor. And when your environment doesn’t provide one, you have to create it internally or through your surroundings.

This is what allows your nervous system to begin to down-regulate.

What to Do in the Moment (Step-by-Step)

When panic hits, keep your approach simple. You do not need to do everything on this list, just start with what feels most accessible.

1. Name It

Say clearly (in your head or out loud): “This is a panic attack. I feel overwhelmed and unanchored. I am safe.”

Accurately labeling panic interrupts that cycle and reminds your system that, while this feels intense, you are safe in your body.

2. Create an Anchor (Orient First)

Start by orienting yourself to the present moment: “My name is ___. It is [day/time]. I am in [city/place]. I am safe right now.”

This is not just cognitive, as it helps your nervous system locate you in the present.

Then choose one of the following anchors:

Visual

• Focus on one object for 30–60 seconds

• Describe it in detail (colour, shape, texture)

• Or use the 5-4-3-2-1 method

Sensory

• Hold something cold (ice cube, cold drink, cool surface)

• Use a familiar scent (lavender, jasmine, eucalyptus)

Body

• Sit upright (avoid lying down)

• Place both feet on the ground and press into the floor

• Notice where your body is making contact

You do not need to do everything. Pick one and stick with it.

3. Regulate the Body (Not Just Your Thoughts)

Breathing can help, but it is often not enough on its own.

Shift your focus to the body:

• Lengthen your exhales (slow, steady out-breaths)

• Step outside or get fresh air if possible

• Walk slowly rather than freezing in place

If you have access to familiar sensory input, use it:

• Comfortable or familiar clothing

• A calming or nostalgic playlist

• A warm shower or cool water

Familiar sensory inputs signal safety to the nervous system.

4. You Don’t Have to Handle Panic Alone

This becomes especially important when you are in a new place.

If you can, reach out to someone you trust.

If that’s not available, create a sense of connection:

• Sit near other people (a café, bench, public space)

• Put on a familiar voice (podcast, voice note, someone you know)

• Look at photos of people you feel safe with

• Send a message to someone, even if they are far away

I once had a panic attack in a hammam in Morocco and told one of the staff members how I was feeling. She brought me water and stayed with me until I settled. Support does not always have to come from someone you know well.

Your nervous system responds to cues of connection — even indirect ones.

When you’re in an unfamiliar place, your mind can lose track of where you belong. These reminders help bring that back online.

5. Let It Peak Without Escalating It

Panic rises, peaks, and falls.

Most panic attacks peak within 5–20 minutes, even if the after-effects last longer.

What makes it feel endless is:

• Fear of the symptoms

• Trying to force it to stop

• Interpreting it as dangerous

• Fear of losing control

No one has ever died from a panic attack.

It is intense and uncomfortable, and not dangerous.

You can feel dysregulated and still be safe. Both truths can coexist.

If nothing seems to work immediately, it does not mean you are doing anything wrong. Your body may simply need more time to settle.

At high levels of activation, the goal is not to fix it perfectly, but ride out the panic safely.

Why Panic Can Feel Worse Abroad or in a New Place

There is nothing wrong with you for experiencing panic, and it does not mean you made a mistake by moving or travelling.

Your nervous system is responding to real conditions:

• Lack of co-regulation (no consistent, familiar people)

• Unfamiliar surroundings

• Loss of routine and predictability

• Subtle identity disruption (“Who am I here?”)

• Ongoing adaptation stress

Your nervous system is not only reacting to the present moment; it is responding to the absence of external stability around you.

Tip: Build Anchors Before You Need Them

It is often easier to reduce the intensity of a panic attack before it escalates than to manage it at its peak.

Focus on creating small, consistent points of stability:

• Return to the same café, park, or walking route

• Establish one predictable part of your day

• Identify 1–2 “safe enough” places

• Keep a short list on your phone: what helps feel grounded in my body

• Save photos, voice notes, and other sensory tools you can access quickly

Stability does not have to be big — it just has to be consistent.

One Last Thing

Panic can feel isolating, especially in a new place. But it is a normal human response to overwhelm—not something to hide or feel ashamed of.

If it is happening regularly, it is worth talking about with someone you trust or a professional.

If this article helped, you can also explore my other mental health articles for more tools, reflections, and support.

Final Thought

Panic doesn’t mean you made a mistake by moving or traveling.

You are adjusting.

Your nervous system does not yet feel anchored where you are.

Allow a bit more time.

You are traveling, working remotely, building freedom, and creating a life that once felt impossible. From the outside, it looks exciting, intentional, and full of possibility.

Then you open your phone.

Someone just got engaged. Someone else announced a pregnancy. A friend bought a house. Another person posted photos from their child’s first birthday.

Before you even process what you are seeing, your body reacts.

There is a drop in your stomach. Tightness in your chest. A quiet sense of panic or urgency that was not there a moment ago. Sometimes the response is the opposite: numbness, avoidance, or the urge to scroll away as quickly as possible.

Then the thoughts come:

Have I chosen freedom at the cost of something more stable?
Have I made my life harder than I needed to?
Am I missing out on something I’d actually want back home?

Beneath it all, one question: Am I behind?

Choosing a life for good reasons does not protect you from questioning it.

There’s an assumption that if you chose your lifestyle for good reasons, you should always feel aligned in it.

That’s not how the brain works.

Your brain is wired to scan for problems and reduce risk, even when nothing is technically wrong.

Choosing your life for good reasons doesn’t protect your brain from questioning it.

You can be aligned with your life and still have moments where you question it.

When an event triggers comparison, your brain can question:

Is this the right direction?
Is what I’m doing actually safe?
Will this work for me long-term?

These thoughts are especially common for digital nomads, remote workers, and people who live outside of more traditional life structures.

You can have deep gratitude for your path and still feel dysregulated in moments when you see others following a different one.

This is something I see often with digital nomads who start questioning whether this lifestyle still fits them.

I recently wrote more about this in my article “Digital Nomads: Is It Time to Stop?”, which explores what happens when freedom no longer feels as clear or fulfilling as it once did.

This isn’t a confidence issue, nor something that gets resolved by telling yourself to “trust your choices.”

What Happens Psychologically When You Feel Behind in Life

The feeling of being “behind” is not random – it is your system trying to orient itself.

1. Your brain uses other people as reference points. It’s the built-in survival strategy of tracking where you stand relative to others.

From a survival perspective, humans evolved in groups where tracking our position relative to others kept us safe. Belonging, status, and alignment with the group increased our odds of survival.

Your brain still does this automatically.

It scans the environment and asks: Where do I stand relative to others my age?

Traditional life paths can make this seem more simple, as there are clear, shared markers of progress, such as career stability, long-term relationships, and home ownership.

Non-traditional paths do not offer our brain the same structure.

There are fewer shared signals that say, you’re making good choices.

Without those traditional markers, your brain has fewer ways to assess progress, so it leans more heavily on social comparison.

2. You’ve lost automatic validation

Conventional life comes with built-in societal reinforcement.

“This makes sense.”
“You’re doing well.”
“You’re on the right track.”

Non-traditional paths don’t offer that as easily.

Instead, you get questions like:

“When are you going to settle down?”
“What’s your long-term plan?”

Even when these questions are well-intentioned, the message underneath can land as:

Your life is not fully stable and you must feel incomplete.

Over time, that can create internal friction: part of you feels grounded in your choice to be a digital nomad, while another part stays alert by scanning for whether it will hold-up long-term.

3. The real issue isn’t being “behind”, it’s uncertainty

The issue isn’t timing, it’s a lack of clarity about direction.

What feels like being behind is often a lack of clarity about where your life is going.

Traditional paths come with a direction that has been defined by society, and non-traditional paths require you to create that direction yourself.

When that direction isn’t clear, uncertainty increases, and your system responds by trying to resolve it.
When this happens you may notice asking yourself: Is my lifestyle actually working? Should I be doing something else?

That often gets mislabeled as: I’m behind everyone else.

The part people often avoid acknowledging

Not everyone on a non-traditional path feels aligned with it or fulfilled by it.

External markers of success tell you very little about what’s actually happening internally.

As a therapist, I see this frequently:
People in long-term relationships who feel deeply disconnected from their partner.
People with stable careers who feel stuck and unfulfilled.
People who followed the “right” path and still question whether they made the right choices.
People with beautiful homes and financial stability who still feel like they don’t have enough.

If we’re being honest, sometimes the digital nomad life is not just about travel, expansion or freedom: It can also be a creative way of not having to choose.

The feeling of being “behind” can point to things like:

• Grief for a life you didn’t choose

• Fear of closing off other options

• A lack of rootedness or continuity

It can raise the question: What if another version of my life would have felt more fulfilling?

How to support yourself

The goal is not to convince yourself your lifestyle is perfect. Supporting yourself starts when you understand why you’re feeling activated, and getting more precise about what you need.

1. Separate what you want from what it represents

When someone else’s life looks appealing, pause and ask yourself:

Do I actually want that life or what it represents?

Stability. Belonging. Emotional safety.

You can’t create what you haven’t clearly defined.

2. Define what “forward” looks like for you

If you don’t define progress on your own terms, your brain will default to societal comparison.

Get specific and consider:

What is growing in your life?
What is deepening?
What has continuity?
What are you building relationally, professionally and personally?

What would make the next few years feel meaningful?

Not in terms of milestones, but in terms of how you want to live.

3. Build anchors

A non-traditional life without anchors can feel like a constant reset.

Anchors create continuity:

• Emotional: 2–3 relationships you stay consistently connected to

• Routine: 1–2 daily structures that travel with you

• Geographic: places you return to

• Identity: roles or values that remain stable across locations

Without consistent anchors, your nervous system has a harder time orienting and feeling settled.

4. Be honest with yourself about trade-offs

A non-traditional life doesn’t remove trade-offs, it changes them.

Freedom and rootedness don’t naturally coexist at the same intensity.

Every path both gives and costs something.

Ignoring trade-offs won’t make them disappear.

5. Reality check for alignment over time

Ask yourself: If things stayed roughly as they are now, how would that feel a few years from here?

If the answer feels unsettling, it’s worth paying attention to, not necessarily as a signal to overhaul your life, but as information about where things may need adjusting.

This feeling will come back

You’ll likely feel it at weddings, on birthdays, during visits home, or in random moments scrolling through your phone.

Feeling like you’re behind, or questioning your choices, is not a signal that your life is off track.
Your brain is simply registering a different version of life.

These feelings are data, and are not directives. They do not need to be acted upon, only acknowledged and understood.

Final thought

When you step outside of a traditional timeline, you lose the built-in milestones that society uses to measure progress.

The thought “I’m behind” is your brain’s attempt to resolve uncertainty. It is not an accurate reflection of where your life actually stands.

A non-traditional path doesn’t come with less pressure; it comes with less structure and more responsibility to define direction.

If you don’t define what ‘forward’ looks like, your brain will default to someone else’s version.

If You’d Like Support

If you’re navigating a major transition and want a grounded space to process everything you’re carrying, you’re welcome to reach out.

You can book a brief consultation to see whether working together feels like the right fit: www.christinababich.com/contact-me