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What is migratory grief? The loss nobody talks about

You moved abroad by choice. You were excited about the fresh start. So why do certain sounds, smells, or the light on a Sunday afternoon leave you with a hollow feeling in your chest? If this sounds familiar, you are not alone. What you are feeling has a name: migratory grief.

What exactly is migratory grief?

Migratory grief is the emotional response to everything you lose when you leave your country: your routines, your people, the food that tasted like home, the landscape that shaped you, and sometimes the version of yourself you were before you left.

It is especially confusing because the losses are not final. Your country still exists. Your family is still there. And yet your relationship with all of it has changed. Psychologist Pauline Boss called this kind of experience ambiguous loss: a loss without the clarity or closure of an ending.

Why it is so hard to recognise

There is no funeral for the life you left behind and no time set aside for mourning it. On paper, nothing was lost: you made a decision, so you “should” be grateful and thriving. Those expectations, from others and from yourself, create a silence that only makes the grief heavier.

Signs you might recognise

  • Nostalgia that goes beyond missing a place: a longing for the life you had and the person you were
  • Irritation that feels out of proportion, especially around cultural differences
  • Guilt for not being happier when you chose this life
  • Difficulty feeling settled, even after years
  • Reluctance to invest in new relationships because they feel temporary
  • Idealising your home country while forgetting why you left
  • Tiredness, poor sleep or a constant sense of heaviness

Grief or depression?

They can look alike, and sometimes they coexist. Depression tends to dull interest and pleasure across your whole life. Migratory grief is more situational: you can do well at work and enjoy real moments of happiness while carrying a quiet loss underneath.

Migratory grief also comes in waves, set off by specific triggers: a song from home in a shop, a phone call with a parent who sounds older, a holiday nobody around you celebrates. Those waves don’t mean you are going backwards. They are how grief is processed.

You don’t stop grieving a life just because you chose to leave it. The decision to move doesn’t cancel the loss; it complicates it.

When grief is left unprocessed

Many people push through without acknowledging it. But unprocessed grief doesn’t disappear; it changes shape. It can show up as anxiety, conflict in relationships, a constant feeling of not belonging, or an exhaustion that rest doesn’t fix. Often, what looks like trouble adapting to a new culture has this grief underneath.

Children grieve differently

Children often lack the words for what they feel, so their grief shows in behaviour: clinginess, sleep problems, regression or sudden outbursts. Teenagers may struggle with identity, isolation or resentment about a move they didn’t choose. Children are also very attuned to their parents’ emotions, which is why looking after your own grief is also a way of caring for your family.

What helps

The first step is simply naming it. Recognising that migratory grief is real and valid, and not a sign of weakness, can be a relief in itself. From there:

  • Allow yourself to grieve without judgement. You don’t owe anyone a performance of happiness because you live abroad.
  • Create rituals that honour where you come from. Cook the food, play the music, celebrate the holidays, not as an escape but as a bridge between your two worlds.
  • Talk about it with someone you trust, with other people who have moved, or with a therapist who understands migration.
  • Be patient with yourself. Adapting is not a straight line.
  • Consider professional support if the weight doesn’t ease, or if it affects your sleep, your relationships or your work.

Migratory grief is not something to “get over”. It becomes part of a story that now spans more than one home, more than one language and more than one version of yourself.