We often imagine life abroad as a picturesque dream: café terraces, market mornings, fashionable locals, and Mediterranean sunshine.

But most expats will tell you that between those postcard moments are real—and at times challenging—human experiences.

Anxiety, burnout, and frustration are common amongst foreign nationals, especially for those caught in visa limbo or lost in unfamiliar bureaucracy. Many cope quietly with trauma and grief. Others feel immense guilt about missing milestones back home or not being present with aging parents.

I understand how they feel…

Eight years ago, I landed at Gatwick Airport with a working holiday visa and a few suitcases. I was planning to give Europe six months before heading back to my “real life” in Vancouver, Canada. But after London, I found myself living in Paris, then Amsterdam, then Budapest…where I moved to complete a Master’s degree in Clinical and Health Psychology.

Since then, I’ve built a remote therapy practice supporting English-speaking expats across Europe. I never planned to stay in Budapest. But the city’s architecture, vibrant food scene, and steaming thermal baths have made it a peaceful place to heal… and help others do the same.

While living in Amsterdam, I met my partner Alex—an adventurous, kindhearted free spirit who loved traveling, road cycling, and me.

During a holiday in Italy, as we were chatting in our hotel room, he died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. When Alex hit the floor, the trajectory of my life shattered in an instant.

Already far from my “Canadian” comforts, I was now navigating profound grief.

Most of the issues my expat clients bring to therapy—relationship struggles, career anxiety, loneliness, identity shifts—aren’t that different from things people navigate at home. Yet when these issues arise far from your support network, in a place where you may not even understand the local language, they can hit differently.

Even well-meaning support networks back home, therapists included, can sometimes miss the mark. Comments like “You’re so lucky to live there!” may be intended as encouragement, but often create emotional distance. Paired with the physical separation, they can leave expats feeling unseen and misunderstood.

As both a therapist and an expat, I don’t just understand the challenges my clients face, I live them too. I know what it’s like to miss weddings and funerals, to wrestle with guilt over the distance, and to wonder if choosing life abroad was the right decision, even when it deeply aligns with who you are.

What I admire most about expats is their courage.

In my work, I help young-to-older middle-aged English-speaking expats across Europe cultivate an inner resilience that isn’t tied to one place or culture. My approach is evidence-based, trauma-informed, and compassionate.

Some of my clients prefer structured therapy plans; others need a supportive, confidential space to talk to someone who “gets it.” Together, we work on implementing practical tools into their lives, like setting boundaries, coping with intense emotions, building self-compassion, staying present in daily life, and caring for the nervous system—which often needs extra attention while adjusting to unfamiliar surroundings.

Much of my work is helping people understand that their emotions—like fear, self-doubt, restlessness—are not directives, but data points. Whether it’s through reframing beliefs, improving selfcare practices, or simply celebrating small wins, therapy reconnects people with their resilience and opens them up to more balanced perspectives.

One of my clients, an American living in France, often struggled with guilt about being far from her aging parents. But during one of their visits, she noticed something shift. “They wouldn’t have come here on their own,” she told me. “Seeing me thriving gave them peace.”

We worked on reframing her guilt by focusing on the quality, not just the quantity, of the time they shared. Those moments, she realized, could be just as meaningful.

Another client was paralyzed by anxiety at the thought of attending a language meet-up. Through a behavioral strategy, we broke the task into manageable steps. He showed up, connected with others, and reminded himself that he was capable.

The tools that supported me as I coped with Alex’s death are the same ones I now use with clients: nervous system care and emotional regulation.

What I admire most about expats is their courage. Even when they’re anxious, grieving, or just trying to stay afloat, they’ve chosen to do something bold: build a life somewhere unfamiliar. That kind of bravery, especially in the face of uncertainty, inspires me.

The most fulfilled expats I’ve worked with have one thing in common: they’ve let go of the idea that their life abroad needs to be perfect… They celebrate the small wins, like navigating local bureaucracy, finding a favorite café, or making that first new friend. They stay connected to loved ones back home, while also daring to step into local life, even when it feels awkward or uncertain.

First and foremost, they remember why they came—whether it was for freedom, adventure, love, or reinvention—and they anchor themselves to those values. They stop measuring progress in milestones and start noticing the richness of the present moment—as this, right now, is the life they came to live.

Christina Babich is a Canadian-born psychologist based in Europe. She offers online therapy to English-speaking expats. Learn more or book a free consultation at www.christinababich.com.

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