When we hear the word grief, many of us immediately think of death.
We picture funerals, sympathy cards, and the loss of someone we love. While bereavement is one of the most profound experiences of grief, it is far from the only one.
Yet many people tell themselves they "shouldn't" be grieving because nobody has died.
The reality is that grief is about much more than death.
Throughout our lives, we experience countless endings. Some we choose. Others are forced upon us. Even positive changes can involve loss.
You might grieve after:
None of these experiences involves death, yet each can fundamentally change how we see ourselves and the world around us.
Grief is not always something we "get over." Sometimes, significant losses become woven into the way we experience ourselves and the world around us.
In person-centred therapy, the concept of existential touchstones recognises that certain experiences invite us to reflect on fundamental aspects of being human, such as our relationships, identity, freedom, meaning, uncertainty, and mortality (Mearns and Cooper, 2005). Experiences of grief—whether through death, separation, illness, migration, adoption, or another significant life transition—can bring these questions into sharper focus.
For some people, earlier experiences of loss continue to echo throughout life. Someone who moved frequently as a child may notice that goodbyes remain especially painful in adulthood.
An adoptee may grieve relationships, culture, language, identity, history, or unanswered questions, even while having no conscious memories of the original separation, illustrating that we can greive things we do not explicitly remember.
This does not mean we are destined to remain trapped by grief. Rather, it recognises that loss can become part of our personal story. As we make sense of our experiences over time, grief may continue to shape us, not because we have failed to heal, but because what was lost mattered.
Many losses are not only about what has happened - they are also about who we believed we were
After divorce, someone may grieve the future they expected to share and the life they imagined.
Following chronic illness, a person may grieve the body they once trusted.
After moving countries, someone may grieve the familiarity, community, language, and sense of belonging they left behind.
Someone who loses their career may find themselves asking, "If I'm not this person anymore, then who am I?"
These losses are deeply personal because they often involve our identity, our relationships, and our hopes for the future.
However, identity is not fixed. Throughout our lives, we develop ideas about who we are, where we belong, and what our future might hold. Significant losses can challenge these assumptions, leaving us to reconsider who we are, where we belong, and what comes next.
This is one of the reasons grief can feel so unsettling. We are not only adapting to what has happened; we are also trying to understand who we are in light of it.
One of the most difficult aspects of non-death losses is that they are often invisible to others.
Friends might say:
"At least you can have another baby."
"You're young—you'll find someone else."
"You chose to move overseas."
"Everything happens for a reason."
Although these comments are usually well-intentioned, they can unintentionally minimise the person's experience.
Psychologist Dr Kenneth Doka introduced the concept of disenfranchised grief—grief that is not openly acknowledged, socially accepted, or publicly mourned. When people feel their loss "doesn't count," they may question whether they have the right to grieve at all.
When grief does not feel "allowed", it can affect the way we relate to both ourselves and others. It can become difficult to be around people when you feel unseen in your pain, or when your loss is repeatedly minimised. Over time, this lack of recognition can leave people feeling isolated, misunderstood, and reluctant to share what they are going through.
It can also affect the relationship we have with ourselves. We may begin to question whether our feelings are valid, tell ourselves we "should" be over it by now, or compare our grief to that of others. Rather than listening to our own experience, we start judging it.
One of the things I have come to appreciate through my work is that recognising grief outside of bereavement does not diminish the pain of losing someone through death.
Grief is not a competition.
We do not need to compare losses to determine whether someone deserves compassion.
Two people can experience entirely different losses while both carrying genuine sorrow. What matters is not whether society considers the loss significant, but whether it mattered to the person experiencing it.
Many people spend months, or even years, trying to push away feelings they believe they shouldn't be having.
Yet grief has a way of making itself known.
It may appear as sadness, anger, numbness, anxiety, irritability, exhaustion, or even a deep sense of disorientation.
Rather than asking whether your loss is "big enough" to justify grief, it may be more helpful to ask:
What has changed?
What have I lost?
What am I trying to hold on to?
These questions often open the door to greater self-understanding and self-compassion.
There is no right or wrong reason to grieve.
Whether you are mourning a loved one, a relationship, your health, your home, your culture, or a future you once imagined, your feelings deserve acknowledgement.
Healing does not necessarily mean forgetting what was lost. Often, it involves learning how to carry that loss while continuing to move forward in a way that honours both your past and your present.
If your grief feels overwhelming, persistent, or difficult to navigate alone, grief counselling can provide a safe, compassionate space to explore what your loss means to you. You do not have to wait until someone dies before seeking support for grief.
Grief is not evidence that something is wrong with us. More often, it is evidence that something mattered.
For a long time, I didn’t know there was a word or label that described the life I was living as a child. All I knew was that in my family, nothing was permanent. Every couple of years, I’d find myself falling asleep surrounded by boxes, with ‘we’ll miss you’ cards tightly packed away, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about everyone and everything I was leaving behind.
By the time I was 16, I had lived in 11 countries across 3 continents. This may seem shocking to some—an unimaginable amount of upheaval, paired with the privilege of having travelled so much of the world. However, for Adult Third Culture Kids (ATCKs), this narrative is a familiar one.
Like many TCKs, I moved to my passport country (the UK) as a young adult for higher education—a place that, while I had visited regularly and lived in briefly as a child, I knew very little about in terms of daily life without my parents. I became a 19-year-old who spoke perfect, accented, English, and was unable to read a bus timetable—a skill most local children had mastered by the age of 12.
While I can happily say I have now successfully overcome many of those practical obstacles, since then, I have been fascinated by how other Adult Third Culture Kids (ATCKs) experience the world and navigate their mental health. During my counselling training, I dedicated my primary research dissertation to understanding the emotional aspects of the repatriation process and later presented my findings at an international conference.
In this blog, I want to explore the mental health challenges that ATCKs often face, especially during repatriation and adulthood.
Authors and TCK researchers Pollock and Van Reken (2009) define a Third Culture Kid (TCK) as:
"An individual who, having spent a significant part of their developmental years in a culture other than their parents’ culture, develops a sense of relationship to all of the cultures while not having full ownership in any. Elements from each culture are incorporated into the life experience, but the sense of belonging is in relationship to others of similar experience."`
This widely accepted definition fits within the Cross-Cultural Framework. However, unlike other cross-cultural models—such as intercountry adoptees, mixed-race children, or children of immigrants—the "third culture" of a TCK is considered a transitory experience rather than a permanent one.
The 'Third Culture' is defined by its temporary, highly mobile nature and is shaped by those living within it. TCKs typically relocate frequently due to their parents' professions, such as missionary work, military service, diplomacy, or engineering. Many attend international schools rather than local ones, forming close bonds with other TCKs who share the experience of constant transition. Even if a TCK spends the majority of their childhood in a single host country, the ever-changing social circle reinforces the sense of living in a "middle" culture—a culture that exists between cultures.
This phenomenon is not static; as global mobility increases, so too does the population of TCKs. In 2019, the United Nations estimated that the number of international migrants worldwide had reached 272 million, or 3.5% of the global population. While this statistic doesn’t differentiate between permanent migrants and those planning to return to their home countries, it highlights the reality of a highly mobile world. In countries like Australia, it's estimated that around 1 million people live and work overseas at any given time, contributing to the expanding population of TCKs and the unique challenges they face.
Another unique element of the third culture experience is the process of repatriation—returning to one’s passport country, often for education or work opportunities. This transition usually occurs while their parents remain stationed overseas. Repatriation can be one of the most tumultuous periods in an ATCK's life, as reflected in various studies:
Repatriation is often a long process:
Purnell and Hoburn (2012) found in their study that the "Stabilisation Stage" for Australian ATCKs returning to Australia took a minimum of two years after repatriation. Source
Some ATCKs may never fully assimilate:
Fail, Thompson, and Walker (2004) reported that some participants felt like outsiders in their passport country even 20 to 50 years after repatriation. Source
Settling down can trigger feelings of unrest:
Bushong (2013), a US-based therapist specialising in globally mobile clients, found that many ATCKs seek therapy in their 30s, often during the period when they’re settling down. At this time, they may experience significant feelings of unsettlement, a stark contrast to their peers.
My own research highlights that university-aged ATCKs often struggle significantly during repatriation. This transition can be jarring, as ATCKs may look and sound as though they belong, but feel entirely out of place due to limited understanding of local customs, social norms, or cultural references. ATCK’s may have also built up a picture of what finally ‘going home’ might be like which is different to day-to-day realities. This experience of ‘reverse culture shock’ can be very difficult to cope with, as there are limited tailored resources available and it is a very specific experience.
As Bushong found, even after the initial stages of repatriation, many ATCKs feel distant from others, either having not fully assimilated into their passport country or feeling out of sync as they watch their peers settle down, all while being unsure of why they feel different, especially if other aspects of their lives are going ‘well’.
Growing up as a Third Culture Kid (TCK) is filled with contrasts. It’s widely recognised that being raised among different cultures fosters valuable skills such as cultural sensitivity, multilingualism, and a global outlook. However, for many TCKs, this upbringing also brings challenges, such as difficulties in developing a sense of home, identity, and attachment.
Below are some of the mental health challenges that ATCKs (Adult Third Culture Kids) may face. It’s important to note that each ATCK's experience is unique.
ATCKs often grapple with identity confusion, as they don't neatly fit into a single cultural category. In a world that still often demands clear labels, this can create conflict and anxiety, leading to a fragmented sense of self.
Additionally, the TCK model is defined by the experience of living in a "third culture." When that experience is no longer a part of an ATCK’s life, they may struggle to restructure their identity, especially if ‘being a foreigner’ or ‘always moving’ was a core part of who they were.
Frequent relocations often mean saying goodbye to places, friends, and routines, leading to repeated experiences of loss. Over time, this can accumulate into unresolved grief, which may resurface as anxiety, depression, or difficulty in forming healthy attachments in adult relationships.
As ATCKs grow older and settle in their passport country, they may also feel deep grief for the life they once lived.
For many ATCKs, repatriation coincides with their first experience of living away from home, such as attending university. Unlike their peers, who might have family support nearby, ATCKs often have parents stationed overseas. The physical and emotional distance from their primary support system can be challenging, especially since this may be the first time in their lives they’re not surrounded by others with similar experiences. This can lead to feelings of isolation and a tendency to withdraw socially.
ATCKs may struggle with maintaining deep, lasting friendships and relationships due to a history of transient connections. This can foster a fear of intimacy or reluctance to fully invest in relationships, as they may expect them to be temporary.
Pollock and Van Reken (2009) theorised that ATCKs often form friendships and relationships intensely and quickly due to the pattern of limited time with peers growing up. This intensity can cause difficulty or feelings of rejection if others don’t reciprocate the same level of enthusiasm.
The constant state of flux in a TCK’s upbringing can lead to chronic restlessness, making it difficult for ATCKs to commit to long-term plans, jobs, or living situations. They may crave change or feel unsettled when life becomes too routine, which can conflict with the demands of stable employment or financial stability.
Repatriation often involves a significant adjustment period that can trigger anxiety and stress. Culture shock and confusion are common during this time, and the fear of not fitting in or being misunderstood can exacerbate social anxiety and lead to isolation, and withdrawal. I have previously written about culture shock and how to cope with it, here.
While being an ATCK is a lifelong journey and your relationship with your upbringing is always evolving, here are a few suggestions to help navigate mental health challenges:
Seek out other TCKs online or connect with individuals from international or cross-cultural backgrounds. Finding people who are also experiencing culture shock or who have an "outside" perspective can provide comfort and validation. This sense of belonging can help you feel more grounded in your experiences.
Instead of viewing your diverse cultural background as a burden, see it as a unique strength and a valuable part of your identity. Engage in creative outlets, such as journaling or storytelling, to help appreciate the richness of your experiences. It’s okay to be different! You can read more about embracing cross-cultural identity in my blog here.
Therapy provides a valuable opportunity to explore persistent feelings of anxiety, depression, or restlessness in a safe, non-judgmental environment. A therapist can help you examine how your unique upbringing has shaped your identity and emotional landscape. In my practice, I take a relational approach, where you are the expert of your own story. Together, we will gently explore your emotions, past experiences, and future goals, allowing you to gain deeper insight and clarity.
Navigating life as an Adult Third Culture Kid can be complex, but it also offers unique strengths and perspectives. Understanding the mental health challenges ATCKs may face is the first step in addressing them. By seeking supportive counselling or psychotherapy, ATCKs can work toward embracing their multifaceted identities, processing past losses, and building a grounded sense of self.
Remember, it’s okay if you don’t fit neatly into one culture or place—your diverse background is a valuable part of who you are.
I recently read Lisa Nan Joo’s piece about her experience as a transracial adoptee. She described her experience as belonging to a "Liminal Space." As a transracial and intercountry adoptee, and an adult third culture kid (ATCK), this description resonated with me. I don’t feel like I belong to any one culture or nationality, and I’ve always wondered if that was more a result of being an adult third culture kid or an intercountry and transracial adoptee. I imagine it’s both.
The concept of being “in the between,” “the liminal,” and “the not one, nor the other” is a sentiment echoed by many throughout the years—not limited to the groups I inhabit. This includes people of mixed heritage and race, immigrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and many others.
While reflecting on this, I was reminded of my research into third culture kids, which formed the basis of my dissertation. One central concept is the Cross-Cultural Kid model.
While undertaking my research into third culture kids I came across the concept of ‘The Cross-Cultural Kid (CCK) Model’ pioneered by Ruth E. Van Reken, a prominent adult third culture kid and educator. Although her work has focused prominently on TCKs, Van Reken has acknowledged that TCKs are simply a subset of CCKs. CCKs are defined as “a person who is living or has lived in – or meaningfully interacted with – two or more cultural environments for a significant period of time during childhood”.
Van Reken gives the following examples of cross-cultural kids but this is in no way an exhaustive list and is likely to continue to grow.
As you can see, there are many subsets of people who fit the cross-cultural kid model who have had experiences of, or are connected to, more than one culture. This could be through adoption, mixed heritages, migration or more as the illustration above demonstrates.
Sometimes these identities overlap, such as in my case (intercountry, transracial adoptee, and traditional third culture kid) or someone like Barack Obama who is a biracial, bicultural, a TCK and a racial minority within the USA. Another example includes the late Freddie Mercury, lead singer of the rock band Queen, who was born to Parsi-Indian parents in Zanzibar, attended English boarding schools in India, returned to Zanzibar and then fled Zanzibar Revolution with his family to the UK.
How people navigate these cross-cultural identities will be very personal to them and will differ substantially within each sub-group. However, cross-cultural people are united through a shared experience of multiple identities, impacted by culture, race, ethnicity, or migration—and the experience of living in a dominant monoculture where our identities are often challenged or rejected.
Van Reken recognised that cross-cultural children and adults have a different relationship to culture and identity than those who are monocultured. A limitation of the CCK model is perhaps its large focus on children. While cross-cultural children are significantly impacted by culture in their development, I would argue that adults too can become cross-cultural regardless of their childhoods. For example, many British-born individuals consider themselves Australian after immigrating to Australia as young adults, gaining citizenship, and starting families here.
Realistically, there are no ‘true’ monocultures as the human race has been migrating around the planet since the evolution of the species. However, in most geographic locations, there is a dominant culture which relates to the ethnicity, languages, practices and beliefs of the majority of people residing there.
For many people the dominant culture is intrinsically nationalistic – impacting those who are visually different from the dominant culture. When some people, for example, think that ‘a true Australian’ can only be a white person, this has a very real impact on all people who look different. This can make existing in a country considered ‘home’ unpleasant, facing the ubiquitous question, “But where are you really from?”.
This nationalistic view extends beyond the nation of your passport and into other key personal identities such as religion, ‘a real American is a Christian,’ ‘a real Indian is Hindu’, etc. This non-acceptance of racial differences and the questioning of people’s right to their nationality is what leads to absurdities like the ‘Birther’ conspiracies, where President Barack Obama ultimately chose to release his birth certificate to prove his right to call himself American, and this was still not accepted by many in the country.
The difficulties that cross-cultural people face largely come from their monocultured counterparts. However, this is not unique to any specific monoculture. Cross-cultural people face these difficulties in any monoculture regardless of the race, ethnicity, or geographic location of that monoculture.
For instance, it is not uncommon for some transracial adoptees to be treated as an outsider not just in their adopted culture but also in their birth or ethnic culture, largely due to language barriers, cultural ignorance or lack of shared experiences and knowledge.
I believe there is great value in working with the cross-cultural model, even outside of TCK research where it is predominantly used. While each sub-group has its own unique experiences and issues, it is valuable to be united by our shared ‘outsider’ experience and reject the need to conform to any labels or identities that don’t fit, reflect, or serve us - particularly those imposed upon us by the monoculture.
Van Reken writes:
“Perhaps one of the greatest gifts to give a CCK is to acknowledge the reality that this world of multiple cultures they have experienced as children is a valid place of belonging, even if not rooted in one geographical place or ethnicity.”
As a cross-cultural person, I find myself feeling more and more confident in expressing my identity. Sometimes I say, “I’m adopted from Nepal, but I grew up overseas.” Sometimes I identify as a British Nepalese adoptee or just British, or Nepalese. I am all of these, all at once, and most people don’t need to know my family or life history upon meeting, and I am not obligated to tell them.
What we say, as cross-cultural people needs to be accepted by the wider population.
I used to feel a lot of pressure, both external and internal, to choose a side, or erase another. To fit myself more into the British ‘box’, to distance myself from my Nepalese heritage. To struggle through trying to be ‘more-British’ or to deny my ethnic heritage completely. I also know that one day, my answer to “Where are you from?” might still change and that’s okay too.
While I understand how unique personal identity is. On my own personal journey, freeing myself from a monocultured paradigm took a lot of weight of my shoulders.
The dominant group often ignores the concept of culture completely, as it is the norm in the country they reside. In many ways, they often do not realise they live within a culture; it is just considered ‘normal’ or ‘the way things are’. However, as I’ve written about before, anyone entering this new country might find themselves suddenly struggling with culture shock, feeling alienated by those around them and finding this affecting their mental health.
This affects adults as well as children. It can be incredibly difficult for someone who grew up as part of the dominant monoculture to suddenly find themselves in the position of an outsider in a new culture. They may experience a sense of aloneness that they have never before had to process.
While operating from a cross-cultural perspective will not solve the problems of culture shock or other difficult realities that cross-cultural people often face in terms of rejection and non-acceptance, I do propose it is ultimately a more inclusive model to work from.
For example, in this visual below when we ask someone "Where are you from?".
On the left-hand side, the dominant monoculture perspective may be that people from a certain place should only say they are from there if they have a passport from there/are citizens of the country—and, for some people, ideally also match the racial make-up of the majority population of the country.
On the right-hand side, the cross-cultural perspective allows people to define where they are from through multiple avenues, including ethnic origin, racial identity, passport country, citizenship, migration, travel, and more. It takes into account that where someone is from is often more than a tick-box exercise; rather, it can be nuanced and complex.
As global immigration continues to increase, cross-cultural populations are growing and becoming more and more common.
Recently, in a Facebook post thread, I read how important it was that a mixed-race and mixed-ethnic family taught their children that they are not ‘half of anything’ but ‘both’. Small changes like this can positively impact people’s self-concept. Conversely, asking someone “where they’re really from” to find out their ethnic heritage can negatively impact someone’s view of themselves, suggesting that where they identify as being from is somehow wrong.
I hope that this concept may be helpful to others to - both people from cross-cultural backgrounds and the people who interact with them, be it friends, family members or professionals.
https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/blog/2011/04/27/president-obamas-long-form-birth-certificate
https://www.crossculturalkid.org/who-are-cross-cultural-kids/
Third Culture Kids, Growing Up Among Worlds by David C. Pollock and Ruth E. Van Reken (2009)
Living abroad or spending an extended period in a different country can be both exciting and challenging. However, culture shock is a common experience for those finding themselves in unfamiliar surroundings.
Having worked extensively with people through all stages of relocation, I’ve seen firsthand the significant impact culture shock can have on mental health. Personally, I’ve lived in over 10 countries across 3 continents, and while much of that relocating occurred during my childhood as a Third Culture Kid, my most recent move—halfway around the world from the UK to Australia—has been particularly profound.
In this blog, I’ll share my insights on culture shock, how it relates to our understanding of culture, its effects on mental health, and practical strategies to help you navigate and adapt to this experience.
The term “culture shock” was first introduced by anthropologist Kalervo Oberg in 1954. Oberg, born to Finnish parents in British Columbia, Canada, travelled extensively and lived in various countries.
He described culture shock as:
“Culture shock is precipitated by the anxiety that results from losing all our familiar signs and symbols of social intercourse. These signs or cues include the thousand and one ways in which we orient ourselves to the situations of daily life: when to shake hands, what to say when we meet people, when and how to give tips.” — Oberg, 1954
Oberg theorised that are four stages of culture shock:
However, subsequent studies have revealed that individuals experience a wide range of emotions related to relocation. Some people skip the honeymoon phase altogether and immediately feel homesick, struggling to adjust to significant differences in their new environment.
Ultimately, it is widely accepted that culture shock refers to the range of emotions experienced during the adjustment period when moving from one culture to another.
Grasping the concept of culture is crucial to understanding why we feel culture shock.
Anthropologist Edward T. Hall, in 1976, introduced a powerful metaphor: culture as an iceberg. Picture an iceberg floating in the ocean—only about 10% of it is visible above the water, while the remaining 90% lies hidden beneath the surface.
Hall’s model explains why culture shock can be so profound, showing how much of culture exists beyond what we initially perceive. It shapes nearly every aspect of life, including family dynamics, approaches to marriage, parenting, and societal norms. It encompasses far more than just what’s visible on the surface—although even something as simple as what you can now watch on television can still have an impact.
In the stages of culture shock, we often first engage with the visible aspects of a new culture—the "surface culture." These differences are easy to spot and may trigger excitement or discomfort. As we go deeper, we begin to encounter the "deep culture," which includes hidden beliefs, values, and communication styles. It's these deeply ingrained cultural elements that tend to feel the most unfamiliar and challenging to adapt to.
When we experience culture shock, we can suddenly feel off-kilter and alone. We become a "foreigner in a foreign land" where everything feels different and unfamiliar. Self-consciousness, frustration, stress, and even depression can set in. It's not uncommon to begin questioning whether relocating was the right choice. If the move involved family or a great financial cost, this period of second-guessing can cause significant internal turmoil.
On top of these emotional challenges, there is a very real aspect of isolation. This comes from both leaving our primary support system behind and also struggling to connect and build up a new support network in our new home. If the 'deep culture' aspects of our new culture are very different to our own, we may find it difficult to bond over commonalities and start forging new social connections.
For example, people from cultures where humour and sarcasm signal friendliness may feel rejected if their jokes don’t land with new colleagues. Similarly, someone from an individualist culture, where self-autonomy is prioritised, may struggle to adapt to a collectivist culture, where family ties and group dynamics dominate.
These are just a few ways culture shock can affect mental health. If these feelings persist without progressing into the adaptation or acculturation stages, this can have a great impact on how we feel about ourselves and those around us.
Culture shock is a natural process, and feeling disoriented or uncomfortable is a normal response. Adaptation doesn't mean losing your identity or values; it involves learning, adjusting, and finding a balance between your cultural background and your new environment.
Here are some strategies from someone who has both studied and experienced culture shock:
Before embarking on your journey, invest time in researching your destination thoroughly. Understand the local lifestyle, traditions, customs, and social norms. Knowing why locals behave the way they do can mentally prepare you and reduce the shock of cultural differences upon arrival.
Moving to a new country is a significant life change. Acknowledge that culture shock is a natural part of the process. Rather than constantly comparing it to life back home, view it as a valuable learning experience.
Effective communication is crucial for integration. While many people learn basic phrases before moving, continue learning the local language while immersed in the new culture. Don’t let shame hold you back—engage in conversations, ask for definitions, and seek pronunciation guidance.
Creating a daily routine soon after your move creates stability. Familiar habits can provide comfort during your transition, giving you a sense of normality at home.
Maintaining regular contact with family and friends helps preserve your sense of identity. Schedule video calls and explore online activities that allow you to stay emotionally connected.
Reaching out to fellow expatriates or local clubs helps build social connections. Whether it's sharing experiences with other expats or joining a local group based on your interests, building new relationships is essential for a sense of belonging.
Be patient with yourself. Moving to a new country is a significant change, and even small accomplishments—like navigating public transportation or making a new friend—deserve to be celebrated.
Moving to a new country can be overwhelming, and if feelings of sadness, agitation, or loneliness persist, prioritizing your mental health is crucial.
Consider taking the following steps:
Culture shock is a natural part of adapting to a new environment. By understanding it better, developing cultural awareness, building support systems, and establishing healthy routines, individuals can often overcome these struggles and find exciting new opportunities.
For some, professional support can be helpful. As someone who has personally, experienced culture shock, I would love to offer you therapeutic space and support while you navigate these challenges.
Remember, culture shock is temporary. Eventually, you will find your place in the world.
