It seems in trying times, we hear of more people wanting to move out of the U.S. A lot of it is talk and daydreaming, but it’s not a new trend. It’s estimated that over 9 million Americans live abroad today. Retiring abroad is a growing trend for Americans, driven by a lower cost of living, better quality of life, and healthcare, with roughly 760,000 U.S. retirees receiving Social Security overseas as of late 2025, a significant increase from previous years.
People may have moved to another country decades ago for opportunity, adventure, or love. As they age, they discover something unexpected: the systems and support networks needed most feel harder to navigate. Our accents still mark us as outsiders, healthcare appointments exhaust us, and we sometimes belong neither here nor there.
Jane Barratt recently articulated this experience beautifully in her piece “Growing Older Without Familiar Ground.” She describes how aging in a place that wasn’t your cultural starting point requires constant “translation of self – precisely when the body and mind crave rest.” Her insight about how systems reduce our complex lives to administrative labels like “CALD” (Culturally and Linguistically Diverse) or “LEP” (Limited English Proficiency) struck me.
Jane’s article names the problem with clarity and compassion. Now, let’s talk about practical solutions.
You need people who can bridge the gap between you and the systems you’re navigating. This might be a younger neighbor who accompanies you to medical appointments, a bilingual friend who helps with paperwork, or even a paid advocate. Start by identifying two or three people who can help with different areas: healthcare, legal matters, and technology. Sure, learning a new language would be great but is often unrealistic. I have been trying to learn Italian for years and have failed miserably.
Healthcare providers may record “non-compliance,” but you know the real story. Keep your own health journal in your native language if that’s easier. Write down questions before appointments. Record what doctors actually say (ask permission first). This documentation becomes invaluable when you need to advocate for yourself or when family members step in to help. And tech helps – translations apps, the new Apple AirPods, etc.
Consider building your network before you leap. One of the hardest parts of aging in a new culture is losing the informal support systems that once defined your daily life – the neighbor who waves, the bookstore clerk who knows your name, the friends you bump into at the café. Before moving, connect with local expat groups, hobby communities, and social clubs online.
Members understand the unique exhaustion of constant cultural translation. They share tips about which doctors take time to explain, which government offices have helpful staff, and how to maintain ties to home while building community here.
Find one person – a grandchild, a neighbor, anyone – and share your full story: where you came from, what you left behind, what you’ve built here. The erosion of being known is real. Counter it deliberately by ensuring at least a few people understand your complete journey, not just the accent they hear or the category they place you in.
Never depend on just one person for critical needs. Have multiple people who can drive you places, several friends who check in regularly, backup contacts for emergencies. If you’re relying on adult children, recognize they’re navigating two cultures too. Diversify your support network so no single person becomes overwhelmed.
Whether it’s video calls with family back home, online banking, or telehealth appointments, choose one technology that reduces isolation and ask someone to teach you thoroughly. Write down the steps. Practice regularly. This one skill can dramatically reduce the feeling of being cut off when physical mobility becomes harder.
Keep routines that matter to you: morning walks in a favorite park, weekend markets, book clubs, art classes, volunteer service. Create hybrid rituals that tie your past and present together – like cooking a traditional family recipe with ingredients from your new home’s markets. These rituals aren’t nostalgia trips – they’re identity keepers.
Aging abroad offers a chance most of us never had: to reinterpret aging not as loss but cross-cultural enrichment. Offer your own cultural wisdom in return – teach, mentor, host gatherings. Create space for sharing traditions in your community – from storytelling nights to cooking circles.
Belonging doesn’t only come from being understood – it comes from being invited to participate.
When healthcare providers or service agencies don’t understand your needs, speak up. You can say: “I need more time to process this information” or “Can you explain this without medical jargon?” Request interpreters even if you speak the language – fatigue and stress affect comprehension. Your needs aren’t a burden; they’re legitimate requirements for good care.
Whether it’s monthly video calls with old friends, subscriptions to media from your home country, or cooking traditional meals, these aren’t just nostalgia – they’re psychological anchors. They remind you of who you were before constant translation became necessary.
Balance is key: root yourself here while honoring where you came from. I read my hometown newspaper, The Philadelphia Inquirer, every day.
Growing older in a country that wasn’t your first requires acknowledging something uncomfortable: you’ll need more support than you might have needed if you’d aged where you started. That’s not weakness – it’s reality. The key is building that support system proactively, before you’re in crisis mode. Culture shock isn’t a personal failure; it’s a phase of adjustment. Recognizing that helps us respond rather than react.
Jane’s writing helps us see what many of us feel but don’t often say out loud. Aging without familiar ground doesn’t have to mean growing alone. With connection, intention, and practical strategies rooted in community and self-care, we can transform that unfamiliar ground into a new kind of home – one rich with diversity, resilience, and purpose.
Would love to hear your stories in the Sixty & Me community. How have you navigated cultural transitions later in life? What helped you feel grounded again as an expat?
Tags Living Abroad
i have lived out of the country when my husband left and i had two children on my own. i had some income from previous employment, and it went further in my foster country.
if i had to live there now? i was in a rural area (remember? i had no money, and couldn’t get a job that would even reasonably cover child care)
now that the kids are adults, and i’ve since had a 2nd career in the grocery industry back here at home (we went on a resident visa, not a work visa anyway), i can’t imagine navigating the rattlesnakes and scorpions and dirt roads! (truly imagine the ruts in the rain – and then realize your car is in the mechanic’s shop for the third month, there’s no BBB, and it’s still raining – yes, this happened – with two kids – i don’t hope to do that on crutches!!)
to emphasize how bad that could be, i was blocked by another driver in my lane and had to hit him about three years ago here in California. it incurred a hard injury to my right leg. i’ve had one hip replacement, and i’m heading into another. this is with my Son living with me, so i cannot imagine doing this in my older years in a foster country … stuff happens … and the difference in the laws? well, think about it —
i know others who were retired where i lived, with their homes on leased property (only citizens could purchase in that area). there were changes in a court case that had been locked up in the courts in that country for over a decade. no one expected the case to finalize. it did.
everyone in homes on the sandspit were deemed trespassers overnight and told to evacuate with what they could carry, militarily enforced. mostly retirees, mostly elderly – even a woman who had opened her own home as a missionary and had taken in indigenous local children to foster.
reality bites; it’s not all dreamland … i LOVED that this article addressed those realities. entertainers often change their home bases, but not all of us have their bank —
i have done it – lived in a foreign-to-me country – unless you’re VERY proficient in another language, it is EXHAUSTING working in a foreign language. the adventure was valuable, functional and even fun – we treasure that time, but it was eye-opening; i now support those here who have trouble in their new home here where i can.