You’re standing in line at a German government office, and for the third time, you don’t understand the form you’re filling out. A thought crosses your mind: “In Poland, I could do this in five minutes.” That evening, you call your mom, tell her everything’s fine, and hang up with a heaviness in your chest that’s hard to describe.
This piece isn’t about how hard emigration is—you already know that. It’s about what specifically happens to your mental state after leaving, what Polish women abroad most often face, and how to recognize the moment when simply saying “I’ll get used to it” is no longer enough. You’ll also get a checklist of warning signs to help you navigate this on your own, along with information on what therapy in Polish actually looks like when you’re living outside of Poland.
In my work with clients living in Germany, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands, one pattern keeps emerging: symptoms don’t appear in the first few weeks, when everything is exciting and new, but several months later—when the novelty wears off, and life in two languages and two systems becomes the new normal.
Emigration is more than just moving—what happens to one’s mental state after leaving?
Acculturation stress is the psychological strain associated with adapting to a new culture, language, and social system — it involves the loss of previous points of reference, the need to renegotiate one’s identity, and chronic tension resulting from functioning in an unfamiliar context. It is not a temporary discomfort—it is a long-term adaptation process, the intensity of which depends on the extent of cultural differences between the country of origin and the destination country. The greater this gap, the more difficult the adaptation process.
The stage of life at which you leave also matters—emigration is experienced differently in early adulthood than during motherhood, while building a career, or during a period of high stress. It’s also important whether you have enough resources to manage stress: support from loved ones, a stable financial situation, language proficiency, and a sense of control over your own life.
What is culture shock?
Culture shock is the more intense, early phase of this process—the moment when minor differences (a different pace of conversation, different workplace norms, a different way of handling bureaucratic matters) begin to accumulate into a sense of disorientation. Psychologist John W. Berry, author of one of the most influential models of acculturation, describes acculturation stress as a reaction to the challenges associated with intercultural contact that cannot be resolved by adaptation alone—they require a longer process of coping with the loss of one’s previous points of reference. According to his model , it is not the fact of migration itself that determines the level of stress, but rather the strategy a person adopts toward the two cultures: integration (preserving one’s own identity while remaining open to the new culture) is associated with the lowest level of stress, while marginalization (cutting oneself off from both cultures)—with the highest.
A study conducted among 362 Polish emigrants living in Ireland, Scotland, and England confirms this relationship in the Polish context: the level of stress experienced differs significantly between countries, and the environmental context — the magnitude of the cultural difference — is the main factor determining its intensity (Colloquium, Naval Academy in Gdynia, 2025). In other words: it is not a “weak psyche” that determines how difficult it is for you to adapt, but rather the actual distance between what you know and the environment in which you must now function — and whether you allow yourself to embrace both identities at once or force yourself to choose one over the other.
Phases of Adaptation — Why the Initial Euphoria Is Followed by a Slump
Anthropologist Kalervo Oberg, who first described culture shock in the 1960s, identified four phases of this process:
- the “honeymoon” phase (fascination with the new, lasting from a few days to several months),
- the crisis phase (frustration and hostility toward the local culture, as language and bureaucratic difficulties begin to pile up),
- the recovery phase (a sense of humor about one’s own difficulties replaces frustration),
- the adaptation phase (acceptance of the new environment as a place to live, not just to survive).
The first few weeks abroad often have something of this first phase about them: a new place, new opportunities, the feeling that you’ve made a bold choice. Then comes the crisis phase, in which the language barrier, bureaucracy, and the lack of daily routines begin to pile up—and this is precisely where a drop in mood, irritability, and homesickness most often arise, which come as a surprise because “after all, I wanted this myself.” This isn’t a step backward. It’s a well-documented, recurring stage of the same adaptation process that began with enthusiasm—and, importantly, according to Oberg, a similar “slump” can also occur upon returning to one’s home country, known as reverse culture shock.
What do Polish women abroad most often face?
The difficulties of emigration rarely have a single cause—usually, they involve several overlapping burdens: loneliness, guilt, a divided sense of identity, working below one’s qualifications, and a shift in the dynamics of close relationships. Below are the patterns that most frequently emerge in therapeutic work with Polish women living abroad.
Loneliness and the loss of a support network — “All my loved ones are a thousand kilometers away”
The support network you built over the years—friends, family, the hairdresser you like and whose jokes you know—stays behind in Poland, and a new network doesn’t form overnight. This isn’t just about missing specific people. It’s a lack of access to the ordinary, everyday emotional infrastructure: someone who’ll give you a ride to the doctor, have coffee with you on the spur of the moment, and knows your story without needing an explanation. Building such a network from scratch takes time—and that’s a normal process.
Feelings of guilt toward my family in Poland
A phone call with your mom, during which you hear the phrase “we could use you here,” stays with you all day. Feelings of guilt toward aging parents and toward siblings who “stayed behind to take care of things” are one of the most recurring themes in my work with clients who have emigrated. It’s not your fault that you chose a different life. But the responsibility for how you manage that guilt—whether you let it dictate every decision or learn to name it and separate it from your actual obligations—lies in your hands.
Living between two countries—who am I here, who am I there
After a few years abroad, many women describe the same paradox: in Poland, they already feel “too much from here,” and in their country of residence—still “not enough.” Researchers refer to thisphenomenon as bicultural identity integration—the way a person experiences simultaneous belonging to two cultures: either as a harmonious whole or as a conflict between two distant parts of themselves. A study involving immigrants in the U.S. showed that individuals with low harmony between their two identities reported higher levels of perceived stress and had higher cortisol levels following a standardized stress test — meaning that identity conflict is measured not only through self-report but also physiologically, in the body’s response to stress.
This identity conflict is therefore a real psychological burden. Another study, conducted among ethnic minorities in the Netherlands, showed that perceived social acceptance of “being both at once” — by those around them, not just by the migrant themselves — increases a sense of identity coherence and positive affect (research on the “blendedness” of bicultural identity). So you don’t have to choose just one identity—you can learn to embrace both at the same time, without feeling like a fraud in either place; research suggests that it is integration, not choice, that leads to greater well-being.
Longing for and idealizing the country you left behind
Idealizing what’s been left behind is a common reaction to loss. When you live abroad, your memory begins to reorganize the past in its own way: images of closeness, familiarity, and security remain, while tensions, fatigue, and everyday difficulties—which were also part of your former life—become less vivid. This doesn’t mean that the longing is false. Rather, it means that your mind is trying to maintain a connection with something important when you miss it in your day-to-day life.
A job below one’s qualifications, a language barrier, and a blow to self-esteem
A master’s graduate in philology selling coffee, a lawyer working as a caregiver—these aren’t anecdotes; they’re the everyday reality for many Polish women living abroad, at least in the early years. The language barrier makes you feel less competent at work than you actually are, and this strikes a direct blow to your self-esteem, which has been built up over years of education and experience. Language proficiency and professional competence are two different things—confusing the two is one of the most common ways in which emigration temporarily lowers self-esteem.
Relationships Abroad—Polish and Bicultural Couples
In couples where both partners have left Poland, emigration often puts the relationship to the test in a new way: suddenly, you are each other’s only support system, which can be overwhelming for both parties. In bicultural couples, there’s additional tension—different patterns of emotional communication, different expectations regarding the partner’s role, and sometimes differences in how each partner understands the very concept of support. None of these situations means that the relationship is “doomed to fail”—it means that it requires a new kind of conversation about needs.
Motherhood Abroad — No Grandma, No Support, No Special Treatment
Motherhood as an expat often looks different than you might have imagined back in Poland: without a grandmother who’ll come for a couple of days, without an aunt who’ll pick up the child from preschool in an emergency, and sometimes without any familiarity with the local children’s healthcare system. This isn’t just a subjective impression—a meta-analysis covering 22 studies and more than 13,700 women showed that migrant mothers are twice as likely to experience symptoms of postpartum depression as non-migrant women (PubMed, 2015). The researchers identified a shorter length of stay in the new country, lower levels of social support, and a sense of insufficient household income as the main risk factors—precisely the areas that are most often lacking in the first few years after departure.
A similar pattern is confirmed by a broader meta-analysis involving over 620,000 participants: one in four migrant women experiences perinatal depression, and one in five experiences anxiety disorders during this period. This increases the risk of burnout and isolation during a period that is already challenging in and of itself. The lack of a “free pass”—because responsibilities don’t disappear, and support must be built on one’s own—is one of the most frequently underestimated yet well-documented risk factors for postpartum depression among mothers living abroad. Read also: What problems does emigration cause?
What actually helps?
Identifying the problem is the first step—the second is taking concrete action that you can take right now, before the difficulty worsens. Below are practical ways to cope with the three patterns described above.
Loneliness that doesn’t feel like loneliness for a long time
When living abroad, loneliness doesn’t always come in the form of a dramatic sense of abandonment. Often, it looks like excessive self-reliance. You do everything on your own, quickly and efficiently. No one gets in your way. And that’s exactly why it’s hard to notice that you’re starting to miss having another person around—not for deep conversations, but simply for their presence. This is an important distinction: loneliness doesn’t just mean a lack of people. It means a lack of people who help regulate your nervous system. That’s why one regular weekly activity outside the home and work can be more effective than ten casual online interactions—because it provides face-to-face contact, rhythm, repetition, and predictability.
In many cases, it’s also helpful to reverse the order: spending time together first, and then building closeness. In Poland, relationships often developed “on their own,” over years of shared history. In the diaspora, this mechanism doesn’t kick in. It needs a helping hand. This isn’t artificial. It’s about creating the conditions in which a relationship can form in the first place.
Feelings of guilt toward family in Poland
The sense of guilt after leaving is so strong because it stems from a conflict of loyalties. Part of you wants to be a good daughter, sister, and friend. The other part wants to build a life of your own. These two needs aren’t enemies, but if you don’t acknowledge them separately, they’ll merge into a single, constant burden. Then every “I can’t come” sounds like a betrayal.
This isn’t about stopping helping. It’s about making sure that helping doesn’t come at the cost of self-destruction. When you start saying, “What I can do from here is…,” you shift from the realm of guilt to the realm of decision. It’s a subtle change in language, but psychologically, it’s enormous. Guilt says, “You should do more.” Decision says, “These are my realistic capabilities and my limits.” Limits aren’t coldness. They’re a prerequisite for the relationship to survive without burning out.
Living between two countries—who am I here, who am I there?
Bicultural identity isn’t just an add-on to life. It is life itself after emigration. The problem begins when every situation forces you to choose: either you’re “truly Polish,” or “already too German / English / Dutch.” This kind of pressure creates tension, because it’s impossible to be one person in two systems without feeling the cost.
What helps isn’t so much “choosing one side” as it is building your own narrative that connects both cultures. It’s not about a nice story for social media. It’s about knowing for yourself what you’re bringing from Poland and what you’re developing in your new country. It could be language, a holiday ritual, a work style, the way you laugh at people, or the way you are as a mother or partner. When you start to name these elements, you stop feeling torn. Not because the conflict disappears, but because you’re giving it structure.
In practice, this can be very specific. You might say, “At home, I want to speak Polish, but at work, I won’t be ashamed of my accent.” You might also notice that in Poland you miss German orderliness, and in Germany you miss Polish spontaneity. This isn’t a lack of consistency. It’s material for integration.
What actually helps: working below your qualifications, relationships, or motherhood abroad?
The second set of challenges—professional, relational, and maternal—requires a different kind of approach: fewer quick fixes, more understanding of exactly what’s breaking down in the system, and where to look for support in the first place.
Working below one’s qualifications and the blow to self-esteem
The problem with working below your qualifications isn’t just that you earn less or do something less prestigious. What hurts the most is that every day you’re confronted with the image of yourself from before you left. In Poland, you were someone who knew the rules of the game. Abroad, for a while, you’re someone who’s just learning those rules. This hits your professional identity, not just your wallet.
That’s why the advice “learn the language” alone is often not enough. You also need to recognize that finding a job that’s satisfying again is a process, not proof of your worth. A course in industry-specific language makes sense not as yet another obligation, but as a tool for regaining agency. The same goes for the recognition of a degree or the validation of qualifications: this isn’t bureaucracy for bureaucracy’s sake, but a way to restore continuity between who you were professionally and who you are now.
One more thing is important: don’t confuse “temporary work that keeps you afloat” with “your sense of self.” If you’re currently working below your qualifications, it doesn’t mean you’ve fallen short as a person. It just means that your career path has been disrupted for a while by the realities of migration.
Relationships in Exile — Polish and Bicultural Couples
Emigration doesn’t so much create conflict in a relationship as it does bring to the surface what was already hidden. When you leave, part of the usual infrastructure of life disappears: friends, family, acquaintances, rituals, and outside support. Suddenly, your partner is no longer just a partner. They also become a witness, a translator, a logistics expert, and sometimes the only person in front of whom you’re allowed to fall apart. It’s a huge change. A relationship that previously had a safety net to cushion tensions suddenly finds itself without that safety net.
That’s exactly why so many conflicts among expats don’t start with a major argument, but with minor tensions: “You don’t want to talk again,” “I always have to explain everything,” “You don’t understand how hard it is here.” In the background, there’s usually an unspoken sense of being overwhelmed. One person feels that they’re bearing the emotional burden of adaptation more than the other. The other feels that they’re already doing everything they can, so whatever else they hear sounds like an unfair accusation.
This is the moment when the conversation stops being about a specific conflict and starts being about loneliness as a couple. The woman says, “He doesn’t understand anything anymore.” The partner says, “No matter what I do, it’s still wrong.” And they’re both partly right. The problem isn’t just the content of the argument, but the strain on the relationship. When your entire daily life revolves around a single relationship, every lapse in patience starts to feel like rejection.
It can be helpful to name not only the emotions but also the roles your partner is taking on. Not “You don’t support me,” but: “Ever since we moved here, you’ve been my go-to person for everything, and it’s starting to feel overwhelming.” A conversation like this doesn’t solve everything right away. But it shifts the conflict from mutual accusations to the reality of the burden. And that makes a big difference.
A micro-scene from real life often looks like this: a woman comes home from work, she’s tired, her partner asks about the groceries, and she hears a lack of concern in his tone, even though he didn’t mean to hurt her at all. A minor tension arises. Not about the groceries. It’s about the fact that both of them are worn down by the adjustment process and have nowhere else to release their tension. In such relationships, the goal isn’t to “learn not to argue.” The goal is to build a way of being together in which the relationship ceases to be the only place where all the stress of emigration is vented.
Motherhood abroad—without a grandmother, without support, without any leeway
Motherhood as an expat often looks different than you might have imagined back in Poland: without a grandma who’ll come for a couple of days, without an aunt who’ll pick up your child from preschool in an emergency, and sometimes without any knowledge of the local children’s healthcare system. This burden isn’t limited to logistics. It keeps you on your toes from morning to night. Week after week.
In these circumstances, the most important thing isn’t to “handle everything better,” but to stop carrying the burden alone. In practice, the first step is often to build a small but real support network: one person who can answer the phone, one neighbor you can text to say “I’m having a tough day,” one midwife, pediatrician, or group of parents with whom you don’t have to start from scratch every time a crisis hits. This isn’t a luxury. It’s the infrastructure without which motherhood abroad quickly turns into a state of constant readiness.
It also helps to separate two things that often get mixed up: exhaustion and guilt. Exhaustion says, “This is too hard for you.” Guilt says, “You should be able to handle this.” If you listen only to the voice of guilt, you start to tighten up even more. That’s why it’s better to start with the question: What do I need most right now—sleep, a break, connection, a break from the pressure, or specific organizational help?
Just a bad week, or something more? When is it time to seek help?
If you’re having trouble determining whether what you’re feeling is a temporary slump or a sign that you need professional support, two criteria are key: duration (longer than a few weeks) and impact on daily functioning (work, relationships, basic self-care). The checklist below will help you assess this on your own before deciding on your next step.
Checklist — 10 signs you shouldn’t ignore:
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For several weeks now, you’ve been waking up feeling a sense of heaviness that doesn’t go away during the day.
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You’ve lost interest in things that used to energize you.
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You’re canceling social plans more and more often, even when you have no reason to.
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You find it hard to concentrate at work for more than a few minutes.
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Your sleep has changed noticeably—you’re sleeping much more or much less than usual.
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Your appetite has changed for no apparent physical reason.
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You find yourself thinking “I can’t handle this” more often than before.
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Instead of bringing you relief, contact with Poland leaves you feeling guilty or exhausted.
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You notice that you’re avoiding telling your loved ones how you really feel.
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These symptoms have lasted longer than two weeks and haven’t gone away despite rest.
Signs You Shouldn’t Ignore
If you’ve checked off several items on the list and they’ve lasted longer than two to three weeks, that’s reason enough to consult a specialist—you don’t have to wait until things get “worse.” Symptoms don’t have to be dramatic to warrant attention. Read more about depression while living abroad
Why is it easier to overlook these signs when living abroad?
Abroad, it’s easier to rationalize a dip in mood as a “normal part of adjusting” and put off taking action—after all, everyone said the first year would be tough. The absence of loved ones who would notice the change from the outside (“something’s going on with you”) means that the warning signs often go unnoticed for longer than in Poland, where family and friends react more quickly. This is one of the reasons why it’s worth regularly checking in with yourself using a checklist, rather than waiting for someone else to react.
Polish-style therapy while living abroad—how it works in practice
Online therapy in your native language is now a fully viable and proven option for Polish women living in Germany, the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, or further afield—it doesn’t require traveling to Poland and works in a format similar to in-person therapy. The key difference lies not in effectiveness, but in logistics: time zone, payment, and the choice of a therapist who understands the unique challenges of life as an expat.
Is online therapy in Polish just as effective? What does the research say?
A meta-analysis encompassing 92 studies and nearly 9,764 participants showed that the average effectiveness of online psychotherapy does not differ significantly from face-to-face therapy (Barak, Hen, Boniel-Nissim, Shapira, 2008). More recent reviews of research on internet-based cognitive-behavioral therapy (iCBT) confirm large effect sizes in the treatment of anxiety disorders — for symptoms of anxiety and worry associated with generalized anxiety disorder, the effects of online therapy are similar to those achieved through face-to-face contact.
Why does therapy in one’s native language matter?
Emotions—especially those that are hardest to name—are most fully expressed in the language you thought in before you learned to think in another. Linguist Aneta Pavlenko, one of the most frequently cited researchers on the relationship between language and emotions, describes the so-called foreign language effect — a phenomenon in which emotional responses expressed in a second language are consistently weaker and less automatic than in the first language, even among individuals who are fluent in another language (Pavlenko, 2012, 2017). Research on affective processing in bilinguals confirms lower electrodermal reactivity (a measure of emotional arousal) to emotionally charged words in the second language compared to the native language.
For therapy, this means one specific thing: therapy in a foreign language—even one mastered well enough for everyday communication—can require additional cognitive effort precisely when you most need simplicity and precision, and certain emotions may remain harder to access because the second language “dampens” their intensity. In my work with clients living abroad, I’ve noticed that it’s only when they speak in Polish that they’re able to get to the heart of issues that remained “on the surface” when expressed in a second language.
At Nowe Widoki, we offer online consultations and psychotherapy in Polish for women from Poland and abroad—the initial conversation helps determine whether this is the right time and form of support for your situation – Online Psychotherapy
Practical details: time zones, payments, choosing a therapist
Online sessions are typically scheduled taking into account the time difference between Poland and your country of residence—for most European countries (Germany, the Netherlands, the United Kingdom), this is a maximum of one hour, which rarely poses a real obstacle. Payments are typically made by bank transfer or online in Polish zlotys or the currency of your country of residence, depending on the practice. When choosing a therapist, it’s worth checking whether she has experience working with issues related to emigration—not every specialist understands the unique challenges of living in a reality split between two countries.
Therapy with a Polish Therapist vs. the Local Healthcare System (Using Germany as an Example)
In Germany, access to psychotherapy through public health insurance (gesetzliche Krankenversicherung) is often subject to long wait times and requires therapy to be conducted in German or English—which, for many Polish women, presents an additional barrier precisely in an area that demands linguistic precision. Online therapy with a Polish therapist is offered as a private service, which means greater flexibility in choosing the schedule and format, but the cost must be covered out of pocket—something worth keeping in mind when planning your budget. Learn more— Polish psychologist in Berlin
Frequently Asked Questions
Can I see a Polish psychotherapist while living in Germany / the UK / the Netherlands?
Yes—online therapy in Polish is available regardless of your country of residence, as long as you have a stable internet connection. It does not require residency in Poland or any special paperwork on the client’s part.
How much does online psychotherapy cost from abroad, and how do I pay?
The price depends on the practice and the therapist’s experience. Payment is usually made by bank transfer or online before the session or on a monthly basis.
Should I choose online therapy in Polish or in the language of the country where I live?
It depends on which language you feel most comfortable expressing your emotions in—for many people, this is the language they thought in before they learned to think in another. Therapy in your native language usually makes it easier to accurately describe difficult experiences.
Will my international insurance cover the costs of Polish online therapy?
This depends on the specific policy and country—some private health insurance plans reimburse therapy with a therapist based abroad, while public systems usually do not. It’s worth checking this directly with your insurer before starting therapy.
What does the first online session look like?
The first session is usually dedicated to getting to know your situation, determining what you’re coming in for, and checking whether the format and frequency of the sessions suit you. It takes place via video call, just like a standard consultation.
Is the time difference a problem (e.g., the U.S.)?
For European countries, the time difference with Poland is minimal and rarely poses an obstacle to scheduling sessions. For distant countries, such as the U.S., this requires more flexibility in scheduling, but it does not preclude online therapy.
Bibliography:
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Psychological and Social Predictors of Emigration Stress—A Study of 362 Polish Emigrants in Ireland, Scotland, and England. Colloquium, Naval Academy in Gdynia (2025).
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Oberg, K. (1960). Cultural Shock: Adjustment to New Cultural Environments. Practical Anthropology, 7, 177–182.
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Berry J.W. (2008). Immigration, Acculturation, and Adaptation. Applied Psychology: An International Review.
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Chen W., Hall B.J., Ling L., Renzaho A.M.N. (2015). Prevalence of postpartum depression among immigrant women: a systematic review and meta-analysis. PubMed.
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A systematic review and meta-analysis of perinatal mental disorders among migrant women—over 620,000 participants. PMC (National Center for Biotechnology Information).
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A study on bicultural identity integration (BII) and cortisol reactivity to stress among immigrants in the U.S. PubMed (2019).
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A study on social acceptance of “being both at once” and bicultural identity cohesion among ethnic minorities in the Netherlands. Journal of Cross-Cultural Psychology (2022).
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Pavlenko A. (2012). Affective processing in bilingual speakers: Disembodied cognition? International Journal of Psychology.
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Pavlenko A. (2017). Do Multilinguals Have Different Personalities? — A study of the foreign language effect in emotion processing.
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Barak A., Hen L., Boniel-Nissim M., Shapira N. (2008). A comprehensive review and a meta-analysis of the effectiveness of Internet-based psychotherapeutic interventions. Journal of Technology in Human Services, 26(2–4), 109–160.
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A review of meta-analyses on the effectiveness of iCBT in the treatment of generalized anxiety disorder (GAD)—Öst and Ollendick (2017), Stech et al. (2019), Christ et al. (2020). Jagiellonian University.
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Central Statistical Office (GUS) (2024/2025). Information on the scale and destinations of temporary emigration from Poland in 2019–2024.