The emigrant’s dilemma: am I running away from problems, or am I moving toward a better life?

Over the last 4–6 years, people’s lives have been in a state of great upheaval. COVID-19 brought certain changes, and then the war added to the turmoil. While migration has always been a part of human history, it feels particularly intense right now—certainly for people from Ukraine, as well as for many from the former CIS countries. Economic factors are also having a noticeable impact elsewhere; even here in England, I see people considering moving to another country.

In my view, this is perfectly normal. It’s normal to eventually find a better job, choose a more comfortable climate, or move to another country to learn a new language. But what if someone keeps changing countries, over and over again—moving, say, three times a year for a couple of years? From the outside, it looks like a pattern: the person is running away from problems, fleeing from things they cannot cope with. But what if the underlying reason goes much deeper? Could it be that, rather than running away from problems, the person is actually striving for a better life by exploring different environments and the experience of living within them? Let’s take a closer look.

Fight, flee, freeze

In a stressful situation, every individual adopts a pattern of behavior shaped by a multitude of factors. When faced with a real or perceived threat, we choose one of the behavioral strategies identified by the American psychophysiologist Walter Cannon.

I have noticed that many Ukrainians have acted in different ways. Some left the country on the very first day of the war, some remain in Ukraine to this day, and others went off to fight. When faced with an immediate threat to their lives, people make decisions without hesitation or deep reflection—there is simply no time or mental energy for that. The interesting part came later: once those who had emigrated were finally able to catch their breath, take stock of their surroundings, and settle in, they suddenly began to sense an inner stirring—a pull toward moving yet again. And then, this happened repeatedly. What is it that drives people in such situations?

At first, I thought that people who move from one country to another are driven by a “run away” instinct. Everything fits this idea: there is a certain level of stress—sometimes overt, sometimes lurking in the background. The lack of a stable, well-paying job—or any job that brings personal fulfillment—is a source of stress; it poses a threat to a person’s ability to live a normal life. A lack of meaningful social connections, or being forced to interact with people one neither likes nor finds interesting, is also a stressor—one that undermines a person’s sense of well-being. And if one partner is unhappy in the host country, that creates significant stress for the other.

I am listing things that do not threaten one’s life, but do threaten one’s sense of self. After all, what matters to us, in the end, is not just to survive and then go on merely surviving. It is to survive and finally begin to LIVE. But if living—truly living—proves impossible, then the desire to change one’s environment (the country one lives in), in the hope that one’s sense of self might be better there, is entirely logical.

But it is precisely at this point that a person falls into a trap of doubt and self-reproach. Not all at once, though. First, the person moves to one country, then to another, and then to a third. And at some stage, a question begins to echo within: am I actually running away from my problems? Or from myself? What is it that truly drives me?

Of course, ideally, the best thing you can do for yourself at this very moment is to consult a psychotherapist—if only to ensure that this latest move doesn’t just become “yet another” one, but rather the final one (at least for a significant, long-term period of your life).

Personal experience

Perhaps I should start by sharing my own personal experience. Like millions of other Ukrainians, I left Ukraine on February 24th. I already knew what it was like to have military forces storm into the place where you live. Because of this—compounded by the fear I felt for my children—my psyche triggered a “run” response. As a result, we lived in Poland, Portugal, Italy, and England; we even returned to Ukraine at one point, only to leave again.

And each time, I suppose, I was running away from problems—certainly not striving for a better life. From Kyiv to Poland—driven by fear, as missiles were flying right over my home. Then from Poland to Portugal—because it was cold in Poland, but warm in Portugal. Next, from Portugal to Italy—because my children refused to learn Portuguese. Then from Italy back to Ukraine—because I longed to be home, and in Italy, I would have had to start everything from scratch. And so, I fled from one country to another, hoping to find something that would satisfy everyone at once. Was that even possible in the midst of a war?

Did I make adult choices? I don’t think so. I wanted to please everyone all at once—a quintessentially childlike stance. An adult might run away when faced with a genuine, unmanageable danger; a child, however, will keep running away whenever things get difficult. And so, I realize that the question “Am I running away, or am I moving toward something better?” has nothing to do with emigration per se. It is the question of a child standing before others, waiting for a verdict: Am I “good” or “bad”? Did I do well, or did I make a mistake? Was it the right thing to do, or the wrong one?

While I wait for someone—perhaps my inner judge—to tell me that I’ve done the right thing, I am living nowhere. Neither here nor there. In essence, what I am searching for is not a country, but approval. And that approval will always be hidden somewhere deep inside me.

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What lies behind the internal dispute?

You must agree—when we so fervently seek a new place to live, what happens to us, given that the old one is already gone? Do we even manage to notice that our former life no longer exists? And what feelings does this very idea evoke?

I’ve noticed that as long as all my thoughts are occupied with searching for a new place where I *will* feel good, I stubbornly fail to see that the place where I *used* to feel good no longer exists. And if I am absolutely unwilling to acknowledge this, what kind of feeling am I trying to avoid?

You know, sometimes I look at the photos from my “past life” stored on Google Drive, and tears just start rolling down my face. It’s in moments like these that I realize that past life no longer exists. Grappling with this thought is unbearably painful. My instinct is to brush it aside, to turn away, to scream that it isn’t true. But it is true. And all I can do is grieve—deeply, for a long time, and as fully as I need to.

I see how difficult it is for my clients to let go of the idea that they have everything under control. Because grief is an acknowledgment that control over something is no longer in your hands. Grief is an admission—and one that people are reluctant to make, especially to themselves. It is far easier, therefore, to engage in an internal debate about where to head off to next.

Help yourself

When exactly should you consult a psychotherapist, and when might you be able to handle things on your own—finally resolving your internal conflict, making a choice, finding peace, and moving on with your life? If you have been living with an “emigrant’s dilemma” for months, if your sleep is suffering due to constant, intrusive thoughts, or if you have lost interest in everything, please reach out to a psychotherapist.

If you have just begun an internal debate—grappling with the dilemma of an emigrant choosing a country, and questioning whether you are running away from problems or striving for something better—try this first:

Write down all the details of your internal conflict on paper. What does each side have to say? Note down the perspective of the part that believes you are running away from your problems—and what about the part that wants what’s best for you? Ask each one: “What do you truly want, and what are you trying to protect me from?” The answers might surprise you.

Ask yourself: whose voice is it that says, “You’re running away from your problems”?

Make a list: what are you running AWAY FROM, and what are you running TOWARD? Compare the two. Focus on your inner sensations and feelings.

Allow yourself to grieve. It helped me to realize that feeling homesick doesn’t mean I made a mistake—though, to be honest, for a long time I truly believed I had made the “wrong” choice.

Pay attention to recurring patterns. Did you have similar feelings in the countries you lived in previously? If the same scenario keeps playing out and the “emigrant’s dilemma” returns time and again, it may be worth consulting a psychotherapist.

Conclusion

The conclusion is simple: before taking your next step, pause and try to figure out what exactly is motivating you. What didn’t work out for you in your previous situation? And what, in your view, will help in a new one? Because sometimes, all this flitting from country to country ends up becoming an endless search for a non-existent paradise—or for a mother figure who will finally love you and take care of you…

Book a consultation or therapy session with me

If you recognize yourself in this article, come in for an initial consultation. During this session, we will look at what you are currently experiencing and determine the best place to start.