“I Want to Leave:” When the Honeymoon Ends and Culture Shock Sets In

When the Rivera Family moved from Costa Rica to the UAE in July, they knew there would be an adjustment period. The heat hit them like a wall the moment they stepped off the plane, and the first few weeks were filled with confusion and trial-and-error. Grocery store aisles were unfamiliar. Street signs seemed impossible to decode. Even crossing the street felt risky at times. But they had expected this.

By August, things had started to settle. Eight-year-old Sofia was thrilled by her colorful new classroom, and thirteen-year-old Mateo couldn’t stop talking about the robotics lab at school. Routines took shape, and there was a growing sense of comfort. The call to prayer at sunset became a familiar rhythm, and weekend desert excursions felt like adventures out of a movie. They loved the rich mix of cultures, the kindness of neighbors, and the stunning architecture that surrounded them.

By mid-September, the Riveras were sure: they had landed in a place where they could thrive.

And then, in late October, the second wave hit. One morning, Ana couldn’t stop crying. José, her husband, had just left for work, and the kids were at school. She had gone to the market that morning and realized she didn’t understand a word the cashier said. She took the wrong exit on the drive home. Everything that once felt new and exciting now felt overwhelmingly foreign. It felt as if her adjustment to living in the UAE had come to a full stop. Or worse: it seemed as if life was harder than just a few weeks before. Shouldn’t she feel settled in by now? 

By the time José returned home, Ana was curled up on the couch, unable to articulate exactly what was wrong. “I think I want to go home, I can not imagine living here, like this, for two more years. It feels as if everything takes so much more time than back home, and as if I will never find solid ground under my feet.” she whispered, startling even herself with the words.

What she didn’t know was that José had had a similar moment the week before.

Fortunately, before their move, the Riveras had made an “Emergency Plan, for this exact scenario” a quiet agreement that if either of them ever wanted to leave, they would initiate a 30-day cooling off period before making any major decisions. No plane tickets. No rash career changes. Just time to reflect, seek support, and talk openly.

They enacted the plan, but they didn’t end up using it. If you’re navigating a similar moment, you can download our Family Emergency Plan Template to help your family develop your own pause-and-reflect strategy.

What Ana was experiencing has a name: Culture Shock. While it caught Ana off guard, it’s actually a common phase of cultural adjustment.

What Is Culture Shock?

Most people are familiar with the first wave of culture shock: that disoriented, emotionally charged response to arriving in a new country. The smells are different. The routines are unfamiliar. Simple tasks like buying milk or making a phone call feel like mountain climbs.

But for many families, this is overshadowed by a “honeymoon phase.” New experiences are exciting. The differences are charming. You’re fueled by novelty and optimism. People comment on how brave you are, how lucky your kids are, and how amazing it is to live abroad. You anticipated the differences, accepted that you would need time to adjust. And, it seems that you’re great at this and it is not as difficult as you thought it would be!

Then comes the second wave.

Often between month three and six, things shift. You’re no longer energized by the newness. You’re just tired. You’ve mostly figured out how to navigate day-to-day logistics, but it takes so much more time and energy compared to back home. The deeper layers of culture still elude you, emphasizing multiple times per day how foreign you are, and will be for the coming years. Out of your initial social circle, only a few people seem to be friendship material, and half of them are leaving much earlier than you will. Extended family feels far away, you have missed out on so many things back home already and you have only been here so shortly. You find yourself longing for the ease of what once was.

Why It Happens

The second wave of culture shock often sneaks up on families because it doesn’t announce itself. Unlike the first wave of culture shock, which is often met with empathy and lowered expectations, this second phase tends to come after things appear to be going “well.”

You’re functioning. You’re not lost anymore. You probably told people back home many times about how much you enjoy living this adventurous new life abroad. And from the outside, it probably looks like you’ve adjusted.

But on the inside, your nervous system is still working overtime. You’ve been adapting, interpreting, stretching, all without the emotional reserves and familiarity you had back home.

This shift is compounded by other stressors:

• The reality of long-term separation from family and familiar networks.
• The emotional labor of helping your kids adjust.
• The weight of managing daily life in a system you don’t fully understand.

In many cases, the second wave is not about one big moment. It’s about the accumulation of small ones: the misunderstood joke, the inability to explain something clearly, the silence in a crowded room. It’s not about failing to adjust. It’s about realizing that adjustment is more layered than you expected.

When the Honeymoon Ends: What It Feels and Sounds Like

When the second wave of culture shock sets in, it often catches families off guard. The initial excitement of the move fades, routines feel heavier, and the smallest tasks like grocery shopping, driving, and finding a plumber, feel inexplicably harder than they did a month ago. The emotional tone of the household begins to shift, sometimes subtly, sometimes all at once.

For parents, it can sound like: “I’m exhausted, and I can’t let anyone see it.”

The pressure to hold everything together becomes overwhelming. There may be guilt, “Did we make the right decision?,” and grief for what was left behind. Decision fatigue sets in as the energy to adapt starts to run dry.

For children, it can sound like: “I don’t want to go to school.”
Their behavior might regress. They may show more tantrums, become unusually clingy, or withdraw altogether. Even if they can’t articulate what’s wrong, their bodies and routines often speak for them.

For teens, it can sound like: “Why did we even move here?”
They may experience a loss of independence, disconnection from peers, or confusion about where they belong. Identity questions, already complex in adolescence, may intensify when layered with cultural displacement.

For couples, it can sound like: “You seem fine, why am I not?”
Different adaptation speeds and coping styles may cause friction. One partner may want to press on while the other quietly begins to unravel. Without open communication, misalignment can lead to blame or emotional distance.

This phase can be disorienting, but it doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It means something hard is happening to you, but you are not alone in it.

What Helps When the Second Wave Hits

1. 1. 1. 1. Normalize It
            You’re not alone. Many global families go through this second wave, even those who’ve moved several times. Talk about it with trusted friends, read stories from others, or reach out to a support professional who understands international transitions.
         2. Reconnect with What Grounds You
            What made you feel like “yourself” back home? Whether it’s music, food, faith, movement, or a regular call with a friend, reclaim those grounding practices.
         3. Name It as a Season
            Like all emotional seasons, this one will pass. Labeling your experience doesn’t minimize it; it gives it context. “This is culture shock” can be a powerful way to move from overwhelm to understanding. Seasons shift. So will this.
         4. Talk About Your “Go Home” Plan
            If you have one (like the Riveras), revisit it. If you don’t, consider what it might look like. Putting structure around the idea of leaving can make it less scary and less likely to happen impulsively. You can download our Emergency Plan Template as a starting point for your own family. 
         5. Invite Support
            You don’t have to push through this phase alone. Family Support Consultants at Expat Valley are trained to walk alongside families in exactly these moments, offering space to reflect, feel, and regain clarity.

      When It Lingers

      If culture shock lasts longer than a few weeks, or begins to affect your mental health, relationships, or parenting in noticeable ways, it might be time to seek additional support. You may want to consider Expat Valley’s Global Family Needs & Wellbeing Assessment and coaching sessions to find the help and support you need to unpack what’s happening and explore healthy ways forward.

      Remember: this is not failure. It’s part of the process. And facing it with honesty can actually deepen your sense of connection, not just to your new environment, but to yourself.

      Moving Forward Together

      For the Riveras, culture shock was a turning point. It prompted deeper conversations, slower mornings, and a shift in how they approached community. Ana eventually joined a book club through a local café. José made a friend at work who became a running partner. Their kids began to bond with classmates.

      The desire to “go home” didn’t disappear overnight. But it softened. And in its place, something sturdier began to grow, a sense that they could do hard things, and that this new chapter, though unfamiliar, could become their own.

      If you’re in the thick of culture shock, take heart. You are not alone. And you don’t have to have all the answers right now.

      Just take the next step. Just give it more time. 

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