"I Moved Abroad for Love, But I Hate Living Here": When Expat Life Becomes a Mental Strain

"I Moved Abroad for Love, But I Hate Living Here": The Silent Struggles of an Unhappy Expat

When love takes us across borders, we often imagine an exciting new chapter — one filled with romance, fresh experiences, and a shared life built from scratch. But for some, like one reader who recently wrote to Annalisa Barbieri’s advice column, the reality of expat life can become a suffocating, silent trap — filled not with excitement, but with resentment, depression, and isolation.

This reader, who remains anonymous, moved abroad nearly 20 years ago to live with the woman he fell in love with and married. The couple quickly had to decide on where to settle — his home country or hers. For practical reasons, including career opportunities, they chose her country. It seemed logical. He found work, secured permanent residency, and from the outside, it may have appeared like a success story.

But on the inside, a slow burn of dissatisfaction was taking hold. He sacrificed his preferred career path, left behind his social networks, and now finds himself not just uncomfortable — but deeply unhappy, living in a country he admits he now “detests.”

When Resentment Becomes the Default Setting

"I intensely dislike the behaviour, the prevailing attitudes, the social and political environment, the city I have to live in," the reader writes. These aren’t minor cultural quirks — these are foundational elements of life that affect one’s identity, purpose, and daily peace of mind. And though he says he can “deal with” giving up his career and friends, it’s clear that such sacrifices have been accumulating emotional interest for years.

Psychotherapist Mark Vahrmeyer, consulted by Barbieri, observed that the letter reflects a man who may not have learned how to effectively voice his needs. “I’m not surprised you feel depressed,” Vahrmeyer said. “You’ve put up with things that make you unhappy.”

This observation points to a common issue among people who relocate for others — especially in the context of international marriages. Decisions are often made quickly, driven by love or necessity, without fully considering long-term personal consequences or discussing emotional needs.

The result? Resentment, which, as Barbieri noted, seems to be simmering under the surface of this man’s letter — not just toward the country, but possibly toward the life choices that led him there.

The Price of Staying for Practicality

One of the main reasons this man feels “stuck” is his son’s education. International tuition fees in his home country are prohibitively expensive, and his wife’s job is tied to where they currently live. Uprooting now would cause financial, educational, and relational disruptions. And so, he remains in a country he loathes, feeling powerless to change his situation — a scenario that mirrors many unhappy expats and trailing spouses around the world.

But Vahrmeyer challenges the notion that this situation is as unchangeable as it seems. Often, he says, people who are “mired in a problem” convince themselves there is no way out. But with enough clarity, even deeply entrenched challenges may contain “wiggle room.”

Barbieri echoes this, questioning whether the son’s education is truly the only factor keeping this man from leaving. “How would you feel,” she asks, “if you stay where you are — so unhappy — and what would that do to your relationship with your son, if he is what’s keeping you there?”

In other words, is staying for your child worth it if your emotional health — and potentially your marriage — deteriorates in the process?

Where Is the Wife in All This?

Interestingly, the letter barely mentions the reader’s wife — a notable absence. “What is your relationship like?” Vahrmeyer asks. “Do you talk to her about how you feel?” If the answer is no, then the issue isn’t just geographical or cultural — it’s relational.

One wonders whether the silence around these topics has contributed to the reader’s current state of mind. Is he afraid to voice his unhappiness to his spouse? Does he fear appearing ungrateful, or unloving? Or has their connection, like his enthusiasm for his new country, withered under years of compromise?

In healthy relationships, major decisions like relocation are followed by ongoing, honest communication about how each partner is adjusting. Without this, feelings of abandonment or emotional invisibility can fester.

Is the Problem the Country — Or Something Deeper?

Barbieri raises a critical question: what really triggered this spiral of loathing for the country? The reader admits he never liked it much, but something clearly shifted to push him from mild discomfort to outright hatred. “What happened?” she asks. Was it a political change? A personal loss? A slow accumulation of unmet needs?

This matters, because not all dissatisfaction is geographic. Sometimes, hatred of a place is a projection of deeper internal struggles — grief over the life you left behind, frustration at lost opportunities, or unspoken conflicts in your relationship.

Even if he returned to his home country, would he feel better — or simply disillusioned in a different location?

The Way Forward: Control, Vision, and Honesty

Both Barbieri and Vahrmeyer suggest that what this reader needs most is agency. Depression often creates a sense of helplessness, making people believe they are trapped in their circumstances. But small steps can restore a sense of control.

• Can he speak openly to his wife and plan an eventual return?
• Can he visit his home country more frequently?
• Can he make changes to his current lifestyle that reconnect him with his identity — perhaps seeking out expat communities, working with a therapist, or rekindling old passions?

One practical approach might be to envision the life he wants in 5 or 10 years, then work backwards to find steps that lead there. That future might still include his current country — or it might not. But either way, the path must involve more than passive endurance.

When Love and Geography Collide

This story is a poignant reminder of the complexities that come with international love stories. Moving abroad for a partner is romantic — but it’s also a life-altering decision that demands deep reflection, communication, and contingency planning.

If you are considering such a move, ask yourself:

• What am I giving up?
• What do I need to thrive in a new environment?
• Will my partner support those needs?
• What happens if things don’t work out?

For this man, the decision has led to emotional entrapment — but with honesty, planning, and support, there may still be a way to reclaim a sense of joy, purpose, and belonging, whether at home or abroad.

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