Like any war, the Russian invasion has caused millions of internal and external displacements, forcing people to lose their sense of home, stability, and habitual identity. What do those who were forced to leave their native city—abroad or to safer cities—experience? What is this experience—the loss of "home"—from a psychological perspective?
Answered by Mariia Aksyonova
The loss of a home or the feeling of home due to war can be experienced very differently depending on the context of the loss itself, the individual characteristics of the person, and the possibility of receiving support in their experiences, sharing them. However, in any case, this experience is mostly deeply traumatic and affects all spheres of a person's life.
Our psyche experiences this not only as a physical loss of a home but also as a multidimensional psychological loss — and it is accompanied by the process of grieving. Along with home, we lose very important supports, such as:
- A basic sense of safety. Home is usually associated with a safe place where we can relax, recover, be ourselves, and enjoy closeness with relatives.
- A sense of stability and control. The feeling of home consists of a lot of small things we usually do not notice or do automatically: tea from a favorite mug, the color of the tiles in the bathroom, familiar nearby shops, a favorite coffee shop — all this together creates a feeling of stability and predictability in our lives.
- A significant **part** of our **identity and sense of belonging**. The feeling of home is also connected to our social ties, which we may partially or completely lose when we leave our home.
- Home and the sense of home also largely fulfill the role of the **foundation of our dreams and plans**, so its loss can be felt not only as a loss of the past and present but also as a loss of the future. Uncertainty about the future ("where and how to live," "is it possible to return," "what will happen to the family") causes chronic anxiety and a feeling of powerlessness.
A person experiences **grief and sadness** for significant material things, memories, the usual social circle, and way of life. This is a process of grieving, similar to the loss of a loved one, but directed towards a place, a habitual way of life, social ties, future plans, and hopes. The stages of grieving (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) can manifest in waves; the person "walks back and forth" between the phases.
Psychologists distinguish the so-called **"trauma of displacement"**: forced migration is an extreme and crisis situation. People have to form new values, behavior models, and adapt to a new, often frightening, environment, abandoning previous ones.
The experience of losing a home is greatly influenced by the context and features of exactly how and what happened.
- If the dwelling was destroyed as a result of hostilities, this is experienced as an **irreversible loss**. In such a case, the grief may be sharper, more intense. At the same time, such a person may receive more support and feels more entitled to feel and process the grief.
- In the case of leaving a home in occupation, the experience of grief is more similar to **ambiguous loss**: the person de facto does not have access to their home, but there is a feeling that the home exists, and along with it, there is hope to return to it someday.
- **When moving to a safer place**, Ukrainians also face a kind of ambiguous loss, as they do not know when or if they will be able to return home. In such a case, the move may often be perceived as temporary, even if life in another place lasts for many years without clear prospects of returning. The presence of a physical home, even if it is far away, can itself contribute to a sense of certain stability in the general uncertainty — this is why some people who have left their homes do not sell or rent out their homes even when they have the opportunity. Although the loss may seem less painful in this case, such a feeling of temporariness can hinder adaptation to new conditions and living a full life. A person, for example, may not learn the local language (if they went abroad), not buy things that create home comfort, etc.
- Another context that affects the experience of home loss is the **possibility of returning** there. Many Ukrainians come home to visit from abroad, despite the ongoing war. This can be a certain "mitigating" factor in the adaptation process in a new place, but in some cases, it feels like an exhausting experience of living in two homes.
- In a broader context, Ukraine, as a native country, can also be felt as a home, so moving to another country is usually experienced more difficultly than displacement within the country, where a person is in a different place, but the people and processes around are more understandable due to language, general informal rules, and way of life.
- At the same time, the feeling of losing a home can appear even without the physical loss of housing: when we stop feeling our home as a safe place as a result of shelling, blackouts, and other consequences of military actions.
What other emotions and states do people who have lost their homes encounter?
- **A feeling of background anxiety and chronic stress** due to the loss of stability and safety, uncertainty about the future, and the need to adapt to different living conditions.
- **Anger, resentment**: the loss of a home often feels like an injustice due to the destruction of the usual world and future plans. Aggression, in this case, can be directed both at the enemy, at others, or even at oneself.
- **Emotional numbness**: in some people, the psyche protects itself from stress in such a way that the person stops feeling any emotions, whether pain and grief, or joy and interest. This resembles a depressive state and can be one of its signs.
- **Feelings of guilt and shame** (e.g., "survivor's guilt," self-blame for not saving the house or leaving someone close).
- **Loneliness and social isolation**: in a new place, one inevitably has to face the need to form a new circle of acquaintances, which can be additionally complicated by internal protest due to the fact that the person did not choose these changes.
- **Somatization**: the physical level of stress manifestation (headaches, muscle spasms, digestive disorders, etc.).
- **Identity crisis**: home is part of who we are and how we see ourselves, so its loss is associated with the need to rebuild a new self.
Prolonged emotional experiences also affect the **cognitive sphere** and can cause such states:
- Impaired concentration and memory: the psyche works in survival mode, which worsens cognitive processes.
- Cognitive distortions: pessimistic assessment of prospects, fatalism, expectation of a negative scenario.
- Intrusive memories (flashbacks): the person repeatedly "re-experiences" traumatic events associated with leaving or the last days at home.
The experience of loss can in some cases lead to mental disorders: post-traumatic stress disorder, anxiety and depressive episodes, adjustment disorder (difficulties in organizing everyday life, financial problems, lack of social supports).
At the same time, the loss of a home, like any traumatic experience, can become a stimulus for personal growth. Many people, against the background of losses and traumatic events, form a new vision of life, reconsider values, develop incredible psychological resilience and solidarity, finding the strength for a "new beginning." This process is called **post-traumatic growth**.
For many Ukrainians, the answer to the question "where is my home?" has changed and continues to change during the war. For some, home remained in the actual dwelling that was left behind, for others, the whole of Ukraine became home, some managed to gradually restore the feeling of home in a new place, and others are still in the process of searching for the feeling of home.
One forced migrant to Germany says: "My answer to the question 'where is my home?' changed. At first, it was in Ukraine, then both there and here, then only in Germany, and now I generally feel like I don't have one. My home (=safety) in Ukraine no longer exists as it was, and I haven't settled in Germany. I want to find a place where I will feel at home."
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Answered by Viktoriia Kalenska
What difficulties do people face after forced relocation during the war, and how can their new status affect identity, the perception of themselves?
Danger Seeping into One's Own Home
Home ceases to be a place of comfort and peace. The constant background fear for one's life and the lives of loved ones, uncertainty about tomorrow, limited opportunities, and the destruction of the foundations of habitual existence can become unbearable.
In such a situation, people are forced to make decisions about relocating in search of safety.
I want to emphasize the huge diversity of experience of displaced persons. What this path will be like for them depends on a multitude of factors: individual characteristics, financial situation, family composition, health condition, experience of surviving crises, availability of resources, and support. No less important factor is the support from the state and how open the local communities will be to newcomers.
In general terms, the process of forced displacement can be conditionally divided into three stages, each of which has its own challenges, difficulties, and experiences.
At each stage, identity—who I am—and the perception of oneself are transformed. These changes come gradually through the experience of processing losses, mastering new roles, and forming new connections.
Throughout the entire journey, one can observe how the way a person tries to restore integrity and find support in the new reality manifests. Thus, forced relocation is not only a physical departure from home but also a deep existential event that touches the sense of self.
Stage One. Preparation
People leave in different ways.
Some have time to prepare, plan, weigh the "pros" and "cons," trying to create at least minimal support for themselves. If possible, they choose a potentially more comfortable place for themselves, for example, a country whose language they know, or a city where they have relatives or acquaintances.
Others are forced to leave hastily with only documents and the most necessary things, in a state of anxiety and fear of the unknown. Some travel with relatives — and this is both support and responsibility at the same time.
Others are forced to leave family, taking pain, guilt, or shame with them.
Some face judgment and are left alone with their choice.
And although every experience is different, it is obvious that it is difficult for everyone. Forced relocation, in any case, knocks the ground out from under your feet. People choose what they would never choose under normal circumstances. It is difficult to decide on this and difficult to accept the need to build one's life almost from scratch.
People move not so much *to* as *away from*. This is not a search for better conditions for development, but an attempt to find a safer place than their current home. And this is painful.
Although this is a forced move, it contains a component of choice and decision-making, so the person maintains a sense of agency. On the one hand, this is resistance to powerlessness, and on the other, the burden of realizing the risks.
During this time, a person may doubt whether they are acting correctly, feel fear for loved ones, and be overwhelmed by responsibility — especially if the move is with children or people who require care.
Even when the decision is made, the forced choice is accompanied by deep sadness for everything that has to be left behind and anxiety about the unknown.
Stage Two. Arrival. Survival
The beginning of this stage can be called the "emergency adaptation phase" (Papadopoulos, 2018; Hobfoll et al., 2007).
It is characterized by confusion, an altered perception of the flow of time, and a feeling of tornness in the very fabric of existence. A person faces a large volume of losses that are not yet possible to grasp: home, the usual rhythm of life, roles, the sense of belonging and autonomy. And at the same time, the need to quickly arrange their life.
To cope, the psyche mobilizes all resources for action — decision-making, organizing daily life, survival. Affects, especially sadness, fear, and guilt, recede into the shadows. Old adaptation mechanisms work at their maximum, and the person may look completely functional and active.
The main task of this stage is survival.
It is necessary to deal with paperwork, registration. To orient oneself at all, where to run and where to start. The language barrier greatly complicates this process. A person directs all efforts to finding housing, financial opportunities, work, and access to kindergartens, schools, or medical care.
With displacement, the need to change roles inevitably comes: a woman who left with a child becomes the sole caregiver; a family that lived separately may end up with parents and take on their care; a person accustomed to independence must live in a shared space. And one has to somehow adjust to this, mastering a new way of being.
Refugee or internally displaced person status, on the one hand, provides access to aid, and on the other hand, emphasizes vulnerability and dependence. Even without official status, a person faces a new reality: the realization of the loss of social and professional roles and the need to integrate into a new community. This sharpens the identity crisis and emphasizes the scale of losses.
At this stage, a person encounters a critical amount of novelty — and this is a huge challenge for identity. The risk is a lack of resources, lack of support, or hostility from the environment. In such conditions, a person may try to cling to the past, become isolated, feel helpless or angry, which often leads to somatic symptoms, anxiety, and apathy.
Connections with loved ones, the opportunity to continue familiar activities, or a sense of financial stability can be supportive. At the same time, it is important not to dwell only on the familiar, but to gradually turn to the new environment.
It is helpful if the person can seek help where they currently live. In every country or community, there are usually communities where one can get the necessary information or simply talk to those who have already gone through a similar path. Such acquaintances help to soften the feeling of loneliness, restore a sense of belonging, and allow one to feel: "I am not alone in this."
At this stage, the question arises — to stay in the new place or return. Due to difficulties and lack of resources, a person may decide to return home, even despite the danger. Or this question may remain suspended. The flow of life stops: the person avoids walks, new acquaintances, clinging only to old connections. This may be a necessary respite before the next step, but prolonged stagnation disrupts the adaptation process.
However, if a person chooses to live here and now, even temporarily, small daily actions help to gradually integrate the changes. They touch upon the experience of losses, but at the same time, they notice that they have already changed, are doing things they didn't do before, and begin to see a new perspective.
Stage Three. Crisis Intensification. Adaptation
Changes in identity and self-perception manifest gradually — in the process of mastering a new place and a new self within it. This is a stage with enormous mental load.
A person literally rebuilds life: meets new people, masters daily life, organizes routines. Lives among those who do not know them and whom they do not know. Is forced to master new roles, rules, and space. It is especially difficult if the place of displacement is another country: one has to learn the language, culture, laws, and customs. Fatigue and exhaustion from overload become a palpable background.
When the issues of basic survival are already resolved, suppressed feelings begin to manifest — sadness for home, loneliness, guilt, shame. A feeling of detachment from one's own life may appear.
The person notices that everything of theirs was left there — friends, relatives, familiar native places. Doubts born of longing arise: "maybe those few hours of fear at home would have been easier than this new life without roots."
Thoughts of returning often appear, in order to feel like oneself again — in one's own place. These waves come and go as the person manages to form new connections.
This is also a period of facing the scale of changes — external and internal. A person may avoid their own vulnerability: "others have it worse," "I've settled in quite well, nothing to complain about." To cope with guilt or shame, they may direct their efforts to helping others — as if repaying a "debt" for their own stability. This can be both a resourceful strategy that aligns with the person's values and a path to exhaustion if their own needs for support and care are ignored.
At this stage, a gradual realization of losses, grieving, and processing of traumatic experiences is possible. Often, it is now that the need for professional help increases — in order to integrate the experience of war and displacement into one's own history.
The experience of living in a new place, communicating with people, new roles, and activities — all this changes a person's perception of themselves.
This is a big challenge for identity, accompanied by questions:
Who am I now? Where is my place? What has remained unchanged in me, and what has changed? What do I want to preserve, and what is no longer relevant?
Through the understanding of the experience, an opportunity opens up for the formation of a new self-image, new values, and meanings. This is a complex process of identity reconstruction that requires time, effort, and great support.
When identity changes, it is important for a person to talk about themselves, about their path, to be heard. It is good when such an opportunity exists — it contributes to the integration of experience and the restoration of integrity.
Going through this stage can lead both to growth born out of crisis and to adaptation collapse, when old strategies cannot withstand the volume of changes. This can manifest as anxiety, depressive states, or somatic symptoms.
In the case of growth, the person will gradually be able to feel joy, satisfaction with life again, and feel like themselves again, albeit a different self.
Instead of a conclusion
Forced relocation during the war is an experience that changes, but does not define, who to be now and how to live.
This experience is full of confusion, fear, losses, and pain. But at the same time, it is an opportunity to expand one's understanding of the world, discover new ways of being, and find new facets of oneself — not thanks to, but despite the tragedy of the circumstances.
Although I have singled out three stages of this process, they are more guidelines than final points. This is not a straight road, but a movement in waves — between loss and acquisition, between destruction and restoration.
To move forward, a person needs internal resources and external support — they help to withstand the complexity of the path, respond to challenges, and build life in extremely difficult conditions, while preserving the authorship and integrity of one's own "Self."
And although this path is never easy, over time it can again be filled with new shades of life.
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Answered by Maia Kotelnytska
How to survive the loss of home and forced relocation if the home remained in temporarily occupied territories? How to overcome difficult experiences due to the fact that part of the family or friends still remain in danger and do not have the opportunity to leave?
Losing a home is not just changing an address. It is experiencing a break with a part of oneself, with a place where there were familiar smells, sounds, and people. For many, forced relocation becomes one of the deepest traumas, as home is a symbol of safety, stability, and belonging. When it is gone, a person can feel confusion, anger, shame, helplessness, or even guilt. And all these feelings are normal. Give yourself the opportunity to grieve and go through this path of rebuilding life. The loss of a home cannot be "simply overcome." It is a loss, and like any loss, it must be mourned. Give yourself time to be in sadness, remember your city, things, smells, neighbors. This does not mean getting stuck in the past — it means acknowledging that something valuable is gone. It is important not to devalue and not to allow other people to devalue your experience. People often tell themselves: "Others have it even worse," "I am alive — why complain," especially in the case when your home and friends remained in occupation. Feelings of guilt appear due to the idea that "I could have changed something." Such thoughts block the path to reintegration. Your pain has the right to exist, even if someone nearby has different losses.
It can be helpful to find supports in the new place. Even when everything is new and unfamiliar, you can find something familiar or warm: a cafe where it is pleasant to drink coffee, people with whom you can talk, a place for walks. Small daily rituals help the nervous system to feel relief. If possible, it is worth not losing touch with loved ones, even if they are far away and have already organized a different life. You should not distance yourself and deprive yourself of this support.
Relocation is often accompanied by loneliness. It is worth consciously seeking communication — with friends online, with new acquaintances, with those who have experienced something similar. It is important to talk about your feelings in a safe space; perhaps a therapeutic thematic group will be useful for this. Taking care of your body will also be a source of support. During stress, we often forget about basic things — food, sleep, movement. But the body itself helps the psyche recover. Even a short walk, stretching, or a warm shower can reduce the level of tension.
Allow yourself to be surprised and discover something new. Gradually, the desire to make the new place your own will appear — to hang photos, buy a favorite mug, plant a flower. This is not a betrayal of the old home, but a way to say: "I am living." Sometimes the trauma of losing a home manifests later: through anxiety, apathy, insomnia, irritability. Forced relocation is always about starting from scratch. But even when the old home remains only in memories, we can gradually create a new space where there will be room for warmth, meaning, and life.
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Answered by Liudmyla Mukhlynina
What rituals and practices can people who, for various reasons, had to leave their home and move, use to support themselves and cope with the loss? How can one support oneself?
Tell me what your home is like, and I will tell you who you are (Italian proverb)
The loss of home is an archetypal situation that has existed throughout the entire time of humanity. For the fourth year, I and my compatriots have had to endure the experience of losing our native home and habitual way of life. Longing for home is a longing for the loss of a familiar world, the integrity of the soul, and the environment that nourishes a person and preserves the desire to live. The concept of Home cannot be reduced to a house that we own; it is much broader. The very essence of human existence is directly connected to the dwelling, as the archetype of the native Home and transformation.
Home provides the structure for the history of our life. It is a symbolic construction of the universe passed down from generation to generation. In its formation, we unconsciously reject other life experiences as alien and meaningless. The identity of one's home is formed under the influence of what we see, hear, smell, and touch. Everything we see around us, what surrounds us — home, nature, and architecture — fills our soul with the warmth of home. The language we hear, the singing of birds, the smells of favorite dishes, flowers, and summer rain complement what we see. The feeling of touching a kitten and the first grass records the image of home in the body and, together with our familiar pace of life and sense of time, forms a part of who we are and how we feel. Awareness of these feelings is part of our identity; when they unexpectedly change, we experience anxiety, helplessness, and loss of ground beneath our feet, as if we were robbed, left in emptiness, as if we found ourselves on the ruins of a former life, without faith in the future.
Since the dwelling is the *imago mundi* (image of the world), it is symbolically placed at the center of the universe. The decision to settle somewhere is significant, as it concerns our very existence and the creation of a new world. How to find that center in the soul where the recreation of the inner Home will begin? Where did our ancestors find the strength to live on when everything around was plunging into apocalyptic chaos? What tools did they use?
One such tool is the ritual. The ritual was created to support and realize one's identity in the universe of meanings. The main characteristics of a ritual are rhythm, time, and repeatability. This allows the creation of a space in which the flow of life energy is safely restored and the integrity of the soul is revived. The symbolism and repeatability of the ritual restore the continuity of being, overcoming turbulence and "stops" of energy. Ritual actions assert the center and order the universe, returning the linearity of life's dynamics. One such restorative ritual is a psychotherapeutic session. But creating one's own small rituals in everyday life also helps to recreate the comfort of home. This can be a walk in the park, morning coffee, or favorite music.
Usually, the feeling of home is in the background, supporting the connection between body and mind. Such "background emotions" form a basis, connecting us with the processes that regulate the body's physiology, but we only notice them when they disappear. The main paradox of home: while the true reality of a dwelling involves fluctuations of positive and negative, the idea and image of home are held on a high pedestal. Thus, every time the image of home is activated, some tricky device seems to work, and before we realize it, we are already tempted to take a position that distracts our attention from perceiving our real dwelling, and instead, the image of the idealized home comes to the forefront. In such a situation, exploring the *Home Matrix* can help, where we explore the images of the native, current, and desired and idealized home. These three categories of home are closely related and are the main reference points for an internally displaced person. Whatever they think or feel about any one of these categories is inevitably influenced by their thoughts, feelings, and experiences regarding the other two.
Home is an expression of the paradox of dependence and autonomy, holding and the freedom to explore new horizons, trusting the familiar and being ready to defend or expand the boundaries of one's world. Getting acquainted with local cultural traditions, transforming the Alien into the Familiar, helps in adaptation in a new place. The first step on this path is identifying similarities, then forming tolerance for the other and accepting it, and only then does it become possible to value differences.
Recording dreams in a dream journal is also an effective support for mental health. Dreams bring to consciousness, through images, the necessary energy that can help find new roots, create new and meaningful relationships, and also initiate the understanding of what it means to "be in the world as at home."
In the black-and-white times of loneliness, the advice of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, who was considered the prototype (archetype) of Life in antiquity, is recalled: "Behold the blooming beauty of nature, gaze into the soul of a flower, and I will return to you in the colorfulness of beauty, love, and life." Life itself gives us the first ritual of healing — through beauty and love in the present.
