Fleeing your country and losing everything

Living in America, most of my clients are American—very often first-generation Americans. And whatever you may think about America, one of its greatest riches is this: it is a country built by immigrants. That is its beauty. All these cultures, religions, backgrounds, and stories that came here to try to build something better. The famous American Dream.

But choosing to move to America is very different from being forced to move in order to survive. To escape war. To escape dictatorship. To escape poverty. To stay alive. To offer your children a future.

So what does it feel like to be the child of that sacrifice?

What does it feel like when your father was a doctor in his country and now cleans hospitals?

What does it feel like when your parents don’t speak English, and you become the translator, the one in charge of administration, papers, phone calls, responsibilities that are far too big for a child?

What does it feel like when you succeed professionally while your parents struggled endlessly?

What does it feel like when you grew up hearing: “We did all of this for you. So you better succeed.”

Very often, what lives underneath is not gratitude—but weight.

Too heavy.

“I don’t want to carry this price.”
And unconsciously, life becomes about self-sabotage. About staying small. Sometimes about addiction. Because the pressure is too much.

Being the firstborn, being the one who “made it,” being able to create wealth—this is not easy. Sometimes you even leave America, searching for another country, another place, where you can finally feel safe, free, and independent. Where your life can finally be yours.

There is shame.
There is guilt.
There is pressure.

You want to make your parents proud.
And at the same time, you want to say: This is my life. My choice.

You understand the sacrifice. You know that maybe staying would have meant death. And yet—you loved your country. You miss it. You carry it inside you.

And for men, it is often even harder. A man usually holds more power, status, and identity in his country of origin. Exile touches masculinity, dignity, and place very deeply.

Women, in another way, carry “home” within them. Wherever they go, they create roots, connection, life. The first home is the mother.

If you recognize yourself in this story, and you are ready to loosen its weight… to separate love from obligation… to free your life from inherited pressure…

I invite you to work with me. Book a session. Come to a workshop.

With love,
Marine Sélénée