This article is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional psychological advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you are experiencing a mental health crisis, please contact your local emergency services or a crisis helpline.
Before reading this, it might help to take a quick look at the About section of this website, where I briefly describe my background and professional path. This post is more of a personal reflection on one part of that story.
I moved to Germany in 2013, when I was 23.
Like many people who migrate, I expected practical challenges: learning the language, dealing with bureaucracy, figuring out how everyday life works in a place where everything feels unfamiliar. I remember things like standing in the supermarket for ten minutes trying to understand what I was buying, or realizing how exhausting it is to live in a language that isn't your own.
What I didn't expect was how deeply the move would shake my sense of identity.
Growing up in Iran under the Islamic regime meant growing up in a system that regulated many aspects of life. Some rules were explicit, others simply understood. Over time, these structures quietly shaped how I behaved, what I expected from myself, and what I believed was possible.
When I arrived in Germany, that entire structure suddenly disappeared. No one cared what I wore, what I said, or how I lived my life, as long as I was a harmless citizen. For the first time in my life, I was able to simply be myself.
This should have felt empowering and relieving, right?
Not really. Because with all that external pressure gone, I was faced with a new problem: I wasn't quite sure who I actually was. Facing this reality was quite painful for the 23-year-old version of me. I had to confront the possibility that much of my identity had been shaped as a response to environmental demands, rather than developing through my own questioning, reflection, and conscious choices about what I truly believed and valued.
This marked the start of a long journey. Feeling disoriented, I started therapy. Around the same time, I read I'm OK – You're OK by Thomas Anthony Harris, a book that helped me make sense of what was happening internally. It introduced the idea that we often operate from different "ego states": the Parent (the internalized rules and expectations we absorb from authority figures and culture), the Child (our early emotional responses and adaptations), and the Adult, which allows us to reflect, evaluate, and make decisions in the present rather than automatically following old patterns. Reading that book helped me understand something about my own confusion. Growing up in a highly controlled environment left very little room for developing that "Adult" space. Many of my choices had simply been the result of negotiations between my internal Parent and Child—rules on one side, emotional reactions on the other. Migration forced me to start developing the Adult voice, the part that asks: Do I actually believe this? Do I want this value in my life? My journey of growing as an individual didn't stop there, and I try to remain open to new ideas that challenge my beliefs about the world, myself, and other people; something many consider to be a lifelong process.
Interestingly, you don't need to grow up under a dictatorship to experience these kinds of internal conflicts. In my practice, I see clients from all over the world who face similar questions, especially after migrating. Someone wonders whether they should continue giving in to the demands of a controlling parent who tries to direct their life even from abroad. Someone else struggles between loyalty to the family business their grandfather built and the career they have secretly longed for. Another person tries to figure out how to tell their doctor parents that they will not be taking over the family practice. Situations like these are often tied to a strong sense of ambivalence: wanting to remain loyal to the people who mean a lot to you, while also wanting to stay true to yourself. This ambivalence is sometimes experienced as anxiety or depression, affecting sleep, mood, or concentration, to name a few. People usually try to resolve this by themselves, but when anxiety or depression lingers for too long, or begins to affect multiple areas of life, they seek help.
In treatment, we take the time to explore whether, and to what extent, your current difficulties might be connected to this kind of internal conflict.
More often than not, the longing to have more agency over your life is only one part of the picture. In future posts, I will explore some of the other factors that can also play a role.
About the Author
Hoda Haddad
MSc, Psychologist NIP
Hoda is a registered psychologist specializing in working with expats and internationally-oriented adults. She provides psychological treatment and psychodiagnostic assessments in Amsterdam and The Hague.