It Is Not Your Fault That You Don't Know Who You Are Anymore

You thought you would be fine. You knew the move would be hard. You prepared for the logistics and said your goodbyes. You told yourself it was an adventure.

But nobody warned you about this: the disorienting, suffocating feeling of not recognising yourself anymore.

You wake up in a new city. Your partner walks out the door to meet their new life. And you are left standing in the middle of an empty day, asking a question you never expected to ask:

Who am I now?

What you actually lost

You didn’t just lose a job. You lost the three things that told you who you were.

You lost your professional identity. Back home, you were someone. A teacher. A lawyer. A researcher. A designer. That wasn’t just a title. It was how you understood yourself. It was the first thing you said when someone asked, “What do you do?”

You lost recognition. You used to be seen as competent, valuable, and respected. People cared about your opinion. Your work mattered. You had proof, every single day, that you were good at something.

You lost your purpose. You used to wake up knowing what you were doing and why it mattered. You had a calendar. A routine you took for granted. A reason to get dressed. Now? You have nothing but time and no idea how to fill it in a meaningful way.

Those three things were not luxuries. They were the structure that held your identity in place. And now that structure is gone.

Why your brain is panicking

Your brain doesn’t do well with ambiguity. It needs anchors, clear roles, familiar routines, and proof that you matter. When those anchors disappear, your brain does what brains do: it panics. And then it looks for someone to blame. The easiest target? You. And the next one is your partner. 

Maybe I am not trying hard enough. Maybe I should just be grateful. Maybe there is something wrong with me for struggling when I have so much.

So you start bargaining with yourself. You tell yourself to be reasonable. To adjust. To stop complaining. To just be positive. 

But the question doesn’t go away: Who am I now?

And here is what makes this unbearable: the people closest to you do not understand. Your partner has their identity intact. So when you try to explain how hard this is, they say things like “Just find something to do” or “You should enjoy this.” It is not their cruelty. They just can’t see what you have lost because, for them, nothing has fundamentally changed. 

The negotiation you are stuck in

You think you are just adjusting to a new country. But you are actually negotiating several  fundamental questions:

• Who am I allowed to be now?

• Can I be happy just supporting my partner’s career, or does that make me weak?

• Can I pursue my own work without being selfish?

• Can I admit I am lonely, struggling, and uncertain, especially when everyone seems fine?

This negotiation happens in your head, late at night, on repeat. And because you are doing it alone, the fact that it’s hard feels like proof that you are doing it wrong. But here is the truth: this negotiation is supposed to be hard.

You are not just deciding what to do or whether to continue working or not. You are rebuilding your entire sense of self in a context that was not designed to support you.

What actually helps

Honestly, you can’t think your way out of this. You can’t positive-affirmation yourself into a new identity. You can’t “be more grateful” and make the disorientation disappear. What actually helps is doing the work of rebuilding with support, and without judgment or shame.

That means grieving what you lost. Not minimising it. Not pretending you are fine. Actually, processing the loss of professional identity, recognition, and purpose.

It means identifying what actually matters to you. Not what you think you should want. But what you are actually craving. Is it intellectual engagement, autonomy, contribution, or connection? 

It means setting realistic boundaries. What can you control within this lifestyle? What can’t you? What does “success” actually look like in this context?

It means rebuilding in ways that don’t require permission from the system or even your partner. You might not be able to work. But you can still engage intellectually. You can still contribute. You can still earn. You can still create a life that feels like yours. It’s just not going to be the life you knew.

And it means learning to communicate with your partner in a way that actually lands so they understand what you need without feeling attacked, and you stop carrying this alone.

If you are on your first or second posting and you are stuck in this negotiation, wondering if it is supposed to feel this hard, if something is wrong with you, and if anyone will ever understand, let’s do the work together. I work with diplomatic spouses navigating exactly this transition every day.

In therapy, we don’t just talk about how hard this is. We get specific about what you are actually grieving. We separate what you can control from what you can’t. We rebuild around the pieces of ourselves that actually matter, not just helping you “find a job.” And we work on communicating with your partner in a way that lands, so you stop feeling so alone.

I have 2 therapy spots available starting November. Book your free brief consultation here, and let’s break away from this loop.

Photo by Eileen Pan on Unsplash