Immigration Overwhelm: How I Found Myself Again Through Small Acts of Care

Homesick, Anxious, and Exhausted? Here's What Helped Me Feel Like Myself Again

TL;DR

In the early years after immigrating, I devoted my whole life to my daughters' happiness and security, and I lost sight of myself. Healing didn't mean choosing between being a good mother and taking care of me. It meant learning to do both.

Key Takeaways

• Emotional exhaustion after immigration is real, valid, and common

• You can be a devoted mother and still need space to grieve and heal

• Healing happens through small, consistent acts, not grand gestures

• Cultural familiarity doesn't automatically create genuine belonging

• You don't have to go back to who you were—you can become more of who you are now

I was standing in the dairy aisle of a grocery store in Perth, staring at rows of milk and yogurt.

So many choices. So many brands I'd never heard of. Which one was closest to what we had at home? Which yogurt would my daughters actually eat?

I stood there for what felt like forever, paralysed by something as simple as choosing milk.

I'd been in Perth less than two weeks. We'd arrived from South Africa with our two little girls—20 months and 3.5 years old. A new life. A fresh start. A dream we were building together.

But in that aisle, with fluorescent lights buzzing overhead and unfamiliar labels staring back at me, I felt completely lost.

This wasn't just culture shock. It was grief layered with exhaustion layered with the pressure to hold it together for everyone else.

And if you're feeling it too, I need you to know: You're not alone. And it won't feel this way forever.

When Everything Feels Foreign at Once

In the beginning, everything required effort.

Choosing dairy products. Understanding the slang parents used at school pickup. Figuring out where to buy things. Decoding the unspoken rules of how people interacted here.

Even the birds sounded different.

I missed my family deeply. I missed the rhythm of life I understood without thinking. I missed being the person who knew where she belonged.

And I was raising two small children in the middle of it all.

I poured everything I had into making sure my daughters felt safe, happy, settled. I researched schools. I found parks. I read stories. I made their favorite foods. I created routines that felt stable even when I didn't.

But somewhere in the devotion to their security, I lost sight of myself.

The Breaking Point

I didn't realise how much I was drowning until I posted in a South African Facebook group late one night:

"Does anyone else feel sad, regretful or unsure?"

I didn't expect much. Maybe a few polite replies. Maybe nothing.

Instead, the responses came flooding in. "Me too." "Same here." "I thought I was the only one."

Just knowing I wasn't alone cracked something open.

That post was the first time I admitted out loud that I wasn't okay. That I was struggling. That this beautiful new life I was supposed to be grateful for was also breaking my heart.

When Your People Aren't Actually Your People

In the beginning, I did what most immigrants do: I clung to anyone who sounded South African.

I joined South African Facebook groups. I sought out other expats at school pickups. I said yes to invitations from people simply because we shared a passport.

But here's the uncomfortable truth no one talks about: I wouldn't have been friends with most of these people back home.

We had the accent in common. The nostalgia. The understanding of what we'd left behind.

But that's not the same as genuine connection. And surrounding myself with people who kept pulling me back to "home" actually delayed my ability to build a new one here.

Real belonging didn't come from recreating South Africa in Perth. It came from being willing to show up in my new community as I was—homesick, uncertain, still figuring it out—and finding people who saw me, not just my origin story.

What Actually Helped Me Feel Like Myself Again

Healing didn't happen all at once. It happened in small, grounding acts. Not grand gestures or perfect solutions. Just tiny moments of care that added up over time.

A Mom Who Invited Me In

At a mother's group in our suburb, I met a woman who chatted with me after the session ended. We talked about schools. About settling in. About how overwhelming it all felt.

A week later, she invited me to her house.

She helped me understand the school system. She put my daughter's name down at a sought-after school in the area. She answered questions I didn't even know I had.

That invitation wasn't just practical help. It was proof that I could belong here. That someone saw me and wanted me to stay.

This was different from the South African connections. This was someone choosing to know me for who I was becoming, not just where I came from.

Movement That Quieted the Noise

I started walking. Not long distances at first. Just 20 minutes around the parks in our suburb.

Sometimes I cried while I walked. Sometimes I just needed to move my body to quiet the overthinking in my head.

Over the years, those walks became something I loved. Now, I walk along the coast. But back then? It was survival. And that was enough.

Music That Let Me Feel

I'd close my bedroom door and put on the songs that let me cry—Celine Dion, Josh Groban, Whitney Houston. Big, emotional ballads I could sing to.

I'd sing alone in my room. Sometimes through tears. Sometimes just to feel my voice again.

And on the harder days, I'd put on music from my clubbing days and dance alone in my living room after the girls were asleep. Music that reminded me of the version of myself who used to move freely, who felt alive in her own skin.

Those few minutes—whether singing or dancing—brought me back to myself.

Not the version of me who was trying to figure out a new country. The version who used to feel fully, move freely, and sing without holding back.

A Recipe From My Mom

We rented a house when we first arrived, and our neighbors were lovely. They'd chat when we were outside. They helped us with recommendations for where to go, what to see.

One day, I decided to host a braai—a South African barbecue. I made a salad my mom had taught me how to make. A recipe I'd grown up with.

My Australian neighbour asked for the recipe.

That small moment? It was proof that I didn't have to erase where I came from to belong here. That I could bring my heritage forward and it would be welcomed.

Permission to Be Both

The hardest part wasn't the practical adjustments. It was the guilt.

I felt guilty for struggling when I "should" have been grateful. Guilty for missing home when I'd chosen to leave. Guilty for taking time for myself when my daughters needed me.

But I learned something crucial: I could be a devoted mother and need space to grieve. Those things weren't in conflict. They were both true.

I didn't have to choose between being a good mother and taking care of myself. I could do both.

Expert Insight: Why Emotional Exhaustion Happens

According to the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, immigrants are more likely to experience depression and anxiety in their first two years post-migration. The reasons are layered: loss of support networks, cultural adjustment, professional rebuilding, identity shifts, and the pressure to "make it work" after such a big decision.

Your emotional exhaustion isn't a personal failing. It's a normal response to an extraordinary transition.

Fun Fact: Your Brain on Homesickness

Research shows that the human brain processes emotional pain the same way it processes physical pain. That's why homesickness literally hurts. Your body remembers home. And it takes time to help it feel safe in a new place.

The Turning Point

Healing didn't mean I stopped missing South Africa. It meant I found ways to carry it gently.

I didn't go back to being the person I was before. I became someone new. Someone who could hold both worlds at once.

And I stopped losing myself in motherhood. I found space to be both—devoted to my daughters and devoted to my own healing.

That's not selfish. That's survival. And it's what allowed me to keep showing up for them without disappearing in the process.

FAQs About Healing After Immigration

What's the first step if I feel emotionally overwhelmed?

Name it. Say out loud (or write down) exactly how you're feeling. No editing, no shame. Just truth. Naming the emotion gives you power over it.

How long does adjustment take?

Most people experience waves of grief and adjustment for 6-18 months. Some aspects take years. There's no fixed timeline. Your pace is the right pace.

How do I make genuine connections when cultural familiarity isn't enough?

Show up as you are—uncertain, homesick, still figuring it out. Real belonging comes from people who see you for who you're becoming, not just where you came from. Start small. Smile at someone. Show up to the same group more than once.

How do I balance being a good parent with taking care of myself?

You don't have to choose. Taking care of yourself isn't taking away from your children. It's modeling for them that their needs and your needs can both matter.

Is it okay to grieve even though I chose to move?

Absolutely. Grief doesn't mean you regret your choice. It means you loved what you left behind. Both can be true.

Conclusion: You Don't Have to Go Back to Who You Were

Six months after that dairy aisle paralysis, I was hosting a braai in our backyard. My Australian neighbor was asking for my mom's recipe. My daughters were playing with the neighbor's kids.

I belonged in both worlds.

Healing didn't erase the grief. It made space for it. It let me carry my old life forward while building my new one.

You don't have to go back to who you were before. You can become more of who you are here, now, with grace.

And if you're struggling to find yourself again while holding everything together, I want you to know: You don't have to do this alone.

As an immigrant who has walked this path—and as a coach who now supports professionals navigating this exact transition—I'm here to help you move from overwhelm to grounded, from lost to found, from exhausted to whole.

[Book a free 30-minute clarity call] and let's talk about where you are now, what you need most, and how we can create space for both your healing and your becoming.

You carried your skills, talents, and dreams across oceans and borders. Now, let's make sure you find fertile ground to flourish too.