They landed the job they always wanted. They're living in a city most people would kill to experience. The compensation package is solid. The assignment is "on track." And yet something isn't right.
They zone out in meetings. There's a distance behind their eyes. Their work has lost the spark it used to have. When someone asks how they're doing, they say "fine" just a little too fast.
It's not ingratitude. It's not lack of commitment. It's not that the assignment was a mistake. It's grief.
And nobody in the company knows how to name it — because nobody talks about it enough.
Grief isn't linear—nor is it necessarily progressive
When we think of grief, we think of visible loss: someone dying, a relationship ending, a job disappearing. Something the world recognizes. Something with a name, and a moment to pause.
Migratory grief doesn't work that way.
It's the grief for everything left behind when a person crosses a border: their family, their lifelong friends, their native language, their neighborhood, their network of trust, their social standing, the smells and tastes that mean "home," the culture they've never had to explain because it's simply theirs.
None of it died. But none of it is there. And that ambiguity — losing without being allowed to mourn the loss — is exactly what makes it so hard to process.
Psychologist Dr. Joseba Achotegui was among the first to name and structure this phenomenon. His work described up to seven distinct losses that a person faces when emigrating: family and loved ones, language, culture, land, social status, belonging to their group, and physical safety. When several of those griefs hit simultaneously with no support, the result can become what Achotegui called the Ulysses Syndrome: a state of chronic, multiple stress that goes far beyond homesickness.
"But they're living in an amazing city..."
Here's the most common mistake companies, families and even expats themselves make.
Assuming that external conditions determine internal state.
"They're in Amsterdam / Singapore / Toronto. What could they possibly be struggling with?"
Plenty. Because migratory grief doesn't discriminate by zip code. It doesn't matter whether the destination is aspirational or difficult, whether the package is generous or modest, whether the city has world-class museums and food or not. Loss is loss. And the human brain doesn't apply a discount for privilege.
In fact, an attractive environment can make it harder: the corporate expat feels like they have no right to struggle. They should be grateful. Saying anything otherwise feels ungrateful. And so what could be processed openly gets pushed inward, where it ferments quietly for months.
What migratory grief looks like in a corporate setting
It doesn't always look like sadness. It knows how to disguise itself:
Gradual disengagement
The employee starts doing the bare minimum. Not because they've stopped caring — but because the energy that used to go into their work is now being consumed by the emotional work of surviving a new reality.
Irritability without apparent cause
Small workplace frictions become large ones. Patience shortens. Cultural misunderstandings with the local team land as personal attacks.
Idealization of home
Everything "back there" was better: the food, the people, the way business gets done, the weather. Nostalgia stops being a pleasant memory and becomes a constant argument against the present.
Social withdrawal
The employee avoids social events, builds no local network, retreats into screens and video calls with the people left behind. The destination never feels like home because it's never given the chance to become one.
Somatization
Frequent headaches, sleep problems, hair loss, a compromised immune system. The body carries what the mind hasn't processed.
None of these signals show up in assignment KPIs. But all of them directly impact assignment outcomes.
The silence that costs millions
Companies invest heavily in preparing the assignment — and almost nothing in emotionally preparing the employee for what's coming.
There are conversations about compensation. Benefits. Housing. Paperwork. There are very few conversations about the fact that this person is about to go through a real process of loss — one that takes time to work through, and one that, without support, is likely to take a toll on the assignment itself.
Research on international assignments consistently shows that emotional and personal adaptation factors are responsible for more than half of all failures. Not technical performance. Not professional capability. The ability to sustain change emotionally — alone and with family — is what decides whether an employee thrives or just not.
And yet, the topic is absent from most international assignment onboarding programs. There's no prior conversation about the grief that's coming. No support for navigating it. No space to name it without feeling like you're failing.
That's not a wellbeing detail. It's a business risk.
What companies can do (and what actually makes the difference)
This isn't about turning every assignment into a therapy session. It's about recognizing that moving a person to another country activates a real emotional process — and building the support that process requires.
A few practices that separate serious mobility programs from the ones that only manage logistics:
Emotional preparation before departure
Before leaving, the employee and their family should have at least one guided conversation about what they'll miss, what they're afraid of, what expectations they're carrying — real and idealized. Naming the grief before it starts is the most effective way to avoid being blindsided by it.
Active support in the first 90 days
Not a check-in email. Real contact, with someone trained to recognize warning signals. The first three months are the most critical.
Accessible mental health support at destination
Whether through an Employee Assistance Program (EAP), a cross-cultural transition coach, or access to mental health professionals who understand the migratory context. Having access versus not having it can be the difference between a successful assignment and one that ends at the six-month mark.
Normalizing the conversation
A company that makes emotional adaptation part of the standard conversation around international assignments gives employees permission to be human. And an employee who can be human inside their work doesn't have to be human against it.
Looking for practical, hands-on ideas? This one is worth a read 👉 5 Tips for supporting your company's expatriate employees
The employee who smiles on video calls
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Let's go back to them. They have the job they always wanted. They're living in a city most people would envy. They say they're fine. But if no one asks — really asks — if no one in the company has the language, the tools, or the willingness to hold that conversation, they'll keep managing their grief alone. And at some point, that grief will send a bill. As a company, you can wait for that to happen. Or you can build a mobility program that prevents it. There are some relocation companies like Trafimar Mobility that can help create tools and spaces to prevent and address this topic. Migratory grief exists. The only variable is whether your company sees it or not. Does yours? |
We invite you to explore more topics like these:
💑 How to help expatriate partners cope with change
🗣️ How to overcome foreign language anxiety when moving abroad
🧳 8 Tips for before moving to another country
🏠 Accommodation for expats: 5 Basic tips
