Why do I feel like I don’t belong anywhere?

I have made a life here, but I am a guest in both countries.

Therapy with Mark will help you make sense of being a guest in both of your countries.

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At a glance

Not belonging anywhere is usually 2 losses at once, and most people count only the first. You stopped belonging where you came from while you were busy not yet belonging here. This article looks at what is actually missing, why going back does not settle it, and what makes one place begin to hold you.

Clinical insights from 22 years in psychotherapy

I’m Mark Colclough, MA, psychotherapist in Copenhagen. Qualified at the Psychosynthesis Education Trust and the University of East London. 22 years of full-time, face-to-face clinical practice.

  • It arrives in company, not in solitude. Clients tell me the feeling lands at a work lunch or a party, in the gap between being included and being expected.
  • Visits home often sharpen it. Clients come back from 2 weeks away having discovered they are now a guest in both countries.
  • People blame the country, then themselves. Clients spend a year certain it is Denmark and the next year certain it is them, and I find it more useful to hold both open.

Clinical notes: My observations are anonymised and compounded from my session notes since 2004.

What is actually missing when you do not belong?

Belonging is not a mood you produce. It is the experience of being expected somewhere. Where you came from, you were inside other people’s assumptions. You were counted on for a particular thing, remembered for something you said years ago, and missed if you did not turn up. Here you are welcome, and you are optional. Both of those are true at the same time, which is why the feeling is so hard to describe to anyone who has not had it. Nobody is excluding you. You are simply not yet load-bearing in anyone’s week.

What makes this confusing is that belonging does not follow the things that are supposed to produce it. In a qualitative study of 73 migrants living in the same American state, 58 per cent said they felt they belonged, 23 per cent said sometimes and 19 per cent said no, and the dividing line was not the one you would predict: some people with secure residence felt they did not belong, while some with the least security did.1 The researchers chose those interviews by searching their transcripts for the word belonging, and the setting was one particular state with its own religious and social life, so it describes pathways rather than proportions you can carry across. It matches what I hear in Copenhagen: a residence permit, a job and a flat are the conditions for belonging, not the thing itself.

Why does going back not settle it?

The place you left has carried on without you, and the version of you that fitted there is the one you took away with you. People often keep a quiet plan for this: if here never works, home is still home. Then they spend 2 weeks there and find the conversations have moved on, the references are new, and the person they are now needs explaining. The plan was holding more weight than anyone realised, and losing it is a real loss, not an overreaction.

The research on going back points the same way. In a survey of 248 adults who had lived outside their heritage culture and then returned, the strongest predictor of settling well again was how much they still identified with that heritage culture, and conflict between their 2 cultural identities went with more stress, more anxiety and poorer readjustment.2 It asked people to look back on a return that had already happened, and the explained variance was low, so much of what decides this was not captured. The useful part is the direction of it: the trouble is not distance from home but the friction between 2 identities that both have a claim on you, and that friction travels in either direction.

Is it Denmark, or is it me?

Usually some of each, and the proportions matter more than the verdict. Denmark gives this feeling particular material to work with. Friendship groups here are often formed early and stay closed without any unkindness being intended, the warmth is real but slow to show itself, and a great deal of ordinary life runs in a language you are still assembling. Those are conditions, and they are not about you.

The other possibility is worth taking seriously rather than dismissing. For some people, not belonging was already there before the plane ticket. A childhood in which you were the one who watched rather than joined, a family that moved often, a school where you were always slightly outside, a sense of being on the wrong wavelength that predates any border. Moving abroad gives that an explanation that is socially acceptable and partly true, which is what makes it so easy to leave unexamined for years. I would not want to tell you which of these you are dealing with from the outside. What I would say is that the 2 need different work, and that the question becomes answerable fairly quickly once somebody is actually asking it with you.

Why has belonging not arrived, when nothing is wrong?

Belonging is built out of being needed, and most expat life is organised so that nobody needs you. You can be liked by a dozen people and necessary to none of them. Invitations arrive, you go, you enjoy them, and you come home with nothing to carry. The loneliness of this is specific: it is not an absence of company, it is an absence of obligation.

It also matters more than it sounds. In a Finnish survey of 61,540 young people, those with a stronger sense of belonging reported fewer symptoms of depression and anxiety, and belonging also reduced the effect that experiences of discrimination had on their mental health.3 That was a school survey of adolescents measured at one point in time, so it does not transfer directly to an adult who moved here for work, and it cannot tell us which way the influence runs. What it supports is something modest and worth knowing: belonging is not a luxury item that arrives once the rest of life is sorted out. It does real protective work, and the smallest version of it counts. You do not need to belong to Denmark. You need to belong somewhere inside it, which I have written about more fully in where do I belong now that I live abroad.

What helps, and when is this not the right question?

You will not reason your way into belonging, and you will not achieve it by being more interesting. It comes from repetition and from being depended on. The steps that work are small and faintly dull, which is part of why people skip them in favour of bigger decisions about whether to stay.

  • Choose repetition over variety. The same class, the same bar, the same 5-a-side, the same time every week. Familiarity is what turns an acquaintance into a person who notices your absence.
  • Take on something small that other people rely on. A rota, a shared allotment, a committee nobody wants to join. Being mildly inconvenienced on someone’s behalf builds belonging faster than any social event.
  • Stop auditioning. If you are being the most agreeable version of yourself, the belonging you win belongs to that version, which is exhausting to maintain and does not feel like yours.
  • Let the 2 places both be real. Keeping a live connection to where you came from is not a failure to commit here. People who try to settle by cutting the old place off usually come unstuck.
  • Give the language 20 minutes of ordinary use. Not fluency. The shop, the neighbour, the small talk you can already manage. The point is participation, not performance.

There are times when none of this is the right tool. If the feeling of not belonging is lifelong rather than dated from the move, if it is there with your oldest friends and in your first language, if you have stopped expecting to be welcome anywhere, or if the flatness has spread into sleep, appetite and anything you used to enjoy, then this is not a relocation problem with a relocation answer, and working at it alone tends to confirm the conclusion rather than test it. That is the point at which talking it through with someone is more use than another plan. How I work with people living away from where they started is set out on my expat psychotherapy page.

Questions people ask

Is feeling like I do not belong a reason to come to therapy?

Yes, and it is one of the commonest things people arrive with here. It is rarely only about geography, and it usually turns out to be workable once it is described out loud rather than carried.

Will you tell me whether to stay in Denmark or go back?

No, and I would be suspicious of anyone who did. What I can do is help you see which part of the question is about the country and which part would follow you onto the plane.

I have only lived here 2 years. Is that too early to take this seriously?

No, and the early years are often when the most useful work gets done. Patterns that are 2 years old are considerably easier to shift than ones that have had a decade to set.

Does it help that you are not Danish yourself?

For many of the people I see, it does. I know the experience of making a life in a country that was not the one I was raised in, and that tends to save a good deal of explaining.

Should my partner come with me?

Start on your own if the question is about you, even when the move was a joint decision. If the not-belonging has started to sit between you as a couple, that can be worked on separately or afterwards.

Sources

  1. Soto Saavedra, C., Lopez, J. L., Shaw, S. A., and Gibbs, B. G. (2023). Multiple pathways to migrant (non)belonging in a new destination setting. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 20(3), 2172.
  2. Altweck, L., and Marshall, T. C. (2015). When you have lived in a different culture, does returning home not feel like home? Predictors of psychological readjustment to the heritage culture. PLOS ONE, 10(5), e0124393.
  3. Abdulhamed, R., Hietajarvi, L., Skogberg, N., Klemetti, R., and Lonka, K. (2024). Sense of belongingness, discrimination, and mental health among Finnish native and immigrant-origin youth. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 103, 102081.

How this article was written: I choose the subject and the angle. An AI assistant researches and drafts. I read the draft, correct and improve it and stand behind every clinical statement. The professional and clinical judgement is mine.

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I’m Mark Colclough, MA, a psychotherapist and EFT couples therapist specialising in expats and international couples. If something here is close to what you are living with, a first conversation is free and there is no obligation.

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Mark Colclough

MA-qualified psychotherapist and couples therapist in central Copenhagen, practising since 2004. Advanced training in emotion-focused couples therapy and attachment theory. Works in English and Danish.

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