Understanding the Emotional Labour of Expat Families
- Sarah Green
- Jan 19
- 4 min read
Updated: Feb 4
The Belonging Project — Part 2
The Role You Step Into Without Realising
I didn’t even know what a cross-cultural child was until the school ran a talk. I went along more out of interest than concern. My assumption was simple: my children had lived in the same country since birth, so this probably didn’t apply to them. Third culture kids, I thought, were children who moved constantly — not ours.
But I was wrong.
Cross-cultural kids aren’t defined by how many times they’ve moved or whether they were born abroad. The term applies to any child growing up outside their passport country, navigating daily life in a culture that isn’t fully mirrored at home. Once I understood that, I started to notice things I hadn’t quite had language for before.
Their adaptability. Their emotional awareness. Their ability to switch, adjust, and absorb.
And also — their quiet exhaustion.
Why This Changes the Job You Think You’re Doing
When families relocate, someone usually becomes attuned to these shifts before anyone else names them. They notice who seems settled, who’s holding things together, and where the cracks might appear later.
This role isn’t about smoothing everything over — and that distinction matters.
With cross-cultural kids, discomfort isn’t something to eliminate quickly. Homesickness isn’t a problem to solve. Frustration, sadness, or withdrawal aren’t signs you’ve failed at the move. They’re part of learning how to live between places.
Knowing when to reassure — and when to let things be hard — is a skill. One most of us learn slowly, often by getting it wrong first.
If this is your first time living abroad, that balance can feel especially difficult to judge.
The Emotional Labour of Expat Families
In many families, one person quietly takes on this emotional calibration. Often it’s the mother — but not always. Sometimes it’s a father who’s stepped back from work, a partner working fewer hours, or simply the person with the most emotional bandwidth at that point in time.
This role exists everywhere — not just in expat life. But moving abroad strips away familiar support systems and routines, making it more visible, more intense, and harder to share. You become the one who senses when to intervene and when to step back. Who translates uncertainty into something manageable. Who holds the longer view while everyone else is focused on getting through the week.
This is the role people sometimes refer to, half-knowingly, as the family support animal. Not because it’s comic — but because it’s constant, alert, and emotionally attuned.
The Cost of Always Being the Steady One
The difficulty with this role is that it doesn’t announce itself as work.
You’re busy all day — coordinating, anticipating, adjusting — yet there’s little to show for it externally. No clear milestones. No sense of completion. Just a continual attentiveness to other people’s emotional states.
Over time, that vigilance can leave very little space for your own.
This is why so many people say the first year abroad feels lonely in a way they struggle to explain. It’s not that you don’t meet people. It’s that your attention is directed elsewhere — towards holding things together rather than finding your own place within them.
When the Question Quietly Surfaces
Eventually, a small question begins to surface.
What about me?
Not dramatically. Not resentfully. Just as a realisation that while everyone else has settled into something — school, work, routine — you’re still hovering slightly outside your own life. This is often where things begin to shift.
You start choosing more deliberately. You invest energy where it’s returned. You allow yourself to be less endlessly capable. You stop treating your own needs as optional.
Not because you’re withdrawing support — but because you’re recognising that support doesn’t require self-erasure.
Support Without Disappearance
Over time, the role changes.
You’re still attentive. Still supportive. Still holding the long view. But you’re no longer absorbing everything on your own.
You learn that resilience — in children, partners, and yourself — isn’t built through constant cushioning. It’s built through honesty, presence, and the confidence that difficult feelings can be tolerated without being rushed away.
The family support animal doesn’t disappear. But it softens.
And in that softening, there’s finally space for your own belonging to take shape.
People Often Ask:
What is emotional labour in expat families?
It’s the unseen work of anticipating, absorbing, and managing emotional transitions — often intensified when families relocate and familiar support systems disappear.
The Importance of Community and Connection
As expats, we often find ourselves in a whirlwind of new experiences. Building a community becomes essential. It’s not just about making friends; it’s about creating a support network that understands the unique challenges of living abroad.
Finding Your Tribe
Finding your tribe can be a challenge, especially in a new country. Look for local groups, clubs, or online communities that resonate with your interests. Whether it’s a book club, a sports team, or a parenting group, connecting with others can provide a sense of belonging.
The Role of Cultural Exchange
Cultural exchange is another vital aspect of expat life. Engaging with locals and other expats can enrich your experience. Share stories, traditions, and customs. This exchange fosters understanding and creates bonds that transcend cultural differences.
Embracing the Journey
Embrace the journey of being an expat. It’s filled with ups and downs, but each experience contributes to your growth. Remember, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed at times. Acknowledge your feelings and seek support when needed.
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