The Challenge of Migration
If you are a Latin American or Spanish-speaking person considering migrating, let me tell you that this decision represents, in many ways, a rebirth.
From the moment you leave your home country, your relationships with the people you leave behind are never quite the same. Bonds that once seemed unbreakable gradually begin to fade like the morning mist. Although those of us who have already migrated understand this reality, many people still underestimate the profound psychological impact that such a decision can have.
Family, friends, pets, traditions, and even part of our identity remain in a place where life continues without us, while we struggle to build a new life in a completely different environment. I say this from my own personal experience as a migrant.
This stage is known as migratory grief. Thanks to globalization and modern technology, we now have countless ways to stay connected with the people we love. For this reason, many specialists describe migratory grief as a partial or recurring process. However, a video call can never replace a hug, a face-to-face conversation, or the feeling of truly belonging somewhere.
I notice this almost every day as I walk through the city and see other immigrants, just as I once was, making video calls to show their families the streets, the weather, or the places where they now live. In those moments, they are not simply sharing a new landscape—they are trying to reduce the emotional distance that separates them from the people they love. It reflects one of our most basic human needs: we miss not only the presence of those who matter to us, but also their energy, companionship, and affection. At times, we simply feel alone.
According to a study conducted by Carlos Fernández, Neidy Domínguez, and Fernando Miralles, researchers affiliated with Nebrija University, CEU San Pablo University, and Pegaso Telematic University, the so-called Ulysses Syndrome encompasses the manifestations of migratory grief and the extreme stress that migrants may experience. Not everyone goes through this process in the same way; for some, adaptation is relatively healthy, while for others it becomes emotionally overwhelming.
Although this research focused on Spain, I believe that the impact can be even greater in some Eastern European countries due to different sociodemographic and cultural factors. The harsh climate, particularly during winter, language barriers, and cultural differences can significantly intensify feelings of isolation.
Many Latin Americans also experience an almost complete separation from their native language. The inability to communicate effectively often becomes an obstacle to accessing essential services, understanding labor regulations, or defending one's own rights. In some cases, this vulnerability exposes migrants to scams, labor exploitation, discrimination, or abuse by individuals and groups with extremist ideologies.
The research on Ulysses Syndrome identifies seven major forms of migratory grief: grief related to family, language, culture, homeland, social status, social belonging, and physical risks.
However, I would like to propose an eighth form of grief that, in my opinion, is often overlooked and can become one of the most difficult challenges migrants face: the lack of knowledge about the society they are moving into.
Arriving in a new country without understanding its healthcare system, legal framework, labor market, culture, language, or even everyday customs creates an enormous emotional burden. Every administrative procedure becomes uncertain, every conversation turns into a challenge, and every mistake can have financial, legal, or personal consequences.
For this reason, I believe that understanding the new environment should be the first challenge every migrant strives to overcome. The better prepared a person is before leaving, the less traumatic the adaptation process is likely to be.
Many people decide to migrate focusing exclusively on the benefits: higher salaries, greater economic stability, or better opportunities for their children. However, migration is never only about gaining advantages. It also involves accepting losses, sacrifices, and emotional costs that rarely appear in our original plans.
Too often, we make this decision driven by emotion and expectations. But when reality fails to match the idealized image we had imagined, disappointment, poor financial decisions, emotional exhaustion, and doubts inevitably emerge. We begin to question whether leaving everything behind was truly worth it.
Even so, migration can also become one of the greatest experiences of personal growth. Those who successfully adapt often develop greater independence, stronger problem-solving skills, increased resilience, and a multicultural mindset. Learning a new language, understanding different social behaviors, or even doing something as simple as grocery shopping in another country gradually transforms the way we understand the world.
If you are considering migration, my message is not to discourage you from pursuing your dream. Instead, I encourage you to prepare responsibly. Avoid mistakes that can be prevented through information, planning, and proper guidance. Ask yourself whether you are truly ready to embrace not only the benefits but also the sacrifices that come with starting over. Learn about the country you intend to move to—its culture, laws, labor market, and customs—before taking that step.
This column is not intended to tell you not to migrate. Most of us who have made this decision did so because we wanted to build a better future for ourselves and our families. Sometimes, life circumstances leave us with little choice. What truly matters is not avoiding change, but facing it with preparation, knowledge, and realistic expectations.
Migration has the power to transform a person's life. The difference between an enriching experience and a deeply painful one often depends not only on the destination we choose but also on how well prepared we are before beginning the journey.
Brandon Rodriguez.
HR Consultant.
Photographer IG: @doraro_Photography_