Immigration: What I’ve Seen, What I’ve Lived
Recently, a friend and I were talking about immigration. I made my own move — first in 2009, then again in 2017, so I know the challenges and the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. I’ve noticed that many of the people I work with have either immigrated themselves, or come from families with a history of immigration.
Immigration isn’t just a physical move. It reaches deep into the emotional state people carry during the transition, and after. Not everyone feels this — but for those who do, it runs deep.
What I’ve seen in my work, and in my own life as an immigrant, is a strong sense of insecurity that often comes with it. Anxiety, worry, a kind of quiet despair — caught in the space between the old life and the new one still being built.
In many cases, the unique talents and abilities that were highly regarded and fully utilized in their home countries are underappreciated or misunderstood in their new environment. It’s disheartening to hear phrases like, “You don’t have the right qualifications,” or “You’re not a good fit for us,” when these individuals were respected professionals back home—lawyers, doctors, teachers, financiers.
Through the process of constellation, we gain insight into where a person’s attention and energy are directed. It becomes apparent where they are truly living, psychologically and emotionally. For some, the past remains an unresolved burden, leading to a suppression of their talents their talents get buried instead of grown. The past becomes a weight to bear, rather than a resource to draw from.
This isn’t only about people who immigrated themselves. Many individuals I’ve worked with are grappling with the unresolved experiences of their ancestors who faced similar challenges during migration. I see the same patterns: frustration at work, struggles with body image and weight, a constant sense of not belonging, and a restlessness that doesn’t always know where it wants to go.
A Small Practice for Settling In
Moving to a new country carries so many plans, expectations, and intentions — and, often, an intense kind of control. That makes sense. The new place can feel unsafe, so all our strength goes into pushing against that, trying to make things happen exactly as we picture them.
I’ve noticed there’s an easier path. First, to see what you like — even what you love — about the place you’ve moved to. To actually feel it. It doesn’t have to be something big: it could be the trees, a church, a park, anything that touches the heart.
And from that place inside you, ask the new country, the new city, to hear you — and your desire. I’ve noticed: there’s less control here, and more love, connection and trust.