(Photo by jaci XIII via Flickr/CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 DEED)
Portions of the included interview have been edited for brevity and clarity.
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As of the end of 2024, 123.2 million people had fled their homes because of violence, armed conflicts, or human rights violations. The number of asylum claims Canada receives annually has doubled since 2018, due to growing insecurity worldwide. British Columbia has processed nearly 5% of these claims.
Among those rebuilding their lives is Tanya, a woman with a journey spanning continents. Tanya has lived in Ukraine, where she built her personal life and a career in the healthcare sector. In 2014, she was forced to relocate within the country due to growing conflict in her region. By 2018, facing ongoing instability and uncertainty, she made the decision to move to Canada in search of safety and opportunity. Though she has roots in Georgia, her story is shaped primarily by her decades-long experience in Ukraine and her journey of rebuilding in a new country.
She arrived with her personal history and a deep understanding of what it means to start over again—first settling in Manitoba before making British Columbia her home. Today, Tanya works in the non-profit sector, offering guidance to newcomers. Her story reflects the long-term impact of displacement, which continues to shape her daily life long after the move itself.
In an interview with Spheres of Influence, Tanya shares how she has navigated career disruptions, loss of identity, and found a sense of belonging in new communities. As someone who has rebuilt her life more than once, Tanya now helps others do the same, showing that renewal is always possible.
When Credentials Don’t Cross Borders
When Tanya arrived in Canada after years of working in healthcare, she carried with her a vast knowledge and a deep commitment to helping others. Like many newcomers with international qualifications, her professional identity could not come with her. “I had to let go of a career I had invested years into and begin again in a new system, often from scratch, ” she shared.
Tanya explained that her professional identity is still present in a quieter form. “Many of the core skills—like critical thinking, empathy, and problem-solving—have remained central to what I do today. I’ve found that even in informal settings, those tools naturally resurface and contribute to my current work.”
Tanya’s experience echoes the reality of many newcomers in Canada, who struggle to navigate the labour market after their arrival. Many of them face the phenomenon of deskilling, meaning they must accept jobs below their skill level to survive. Over 25% of immigrants with university degrees work in jobs requiring only a high school diploma, compared to 12% of Canadian-born or Canadian-educated workers. The deskilling gap is even greater in the health sector, where around 40% of foreign-trained doctors and nurses work in their field, compared to nearly 90% of their Canadian-trained colleagues.
The reasons behind this deskilling include language barriers, lengthy accreditation procedures, discrimination, and systemic obstacles. This phenomenon can lead to economic instability as well as the erosion of self-esteem and a sense of professional purpose. For Tanya, these obstacles meant redefining this purpose, not abandoning it: “the core motivation to support and uplift others remains, [but] the way I express it has expanded.” More broadly, addressing deskilling at the systemic level means recognizing transferable skills, expanding mentorship programs, and providing stronger protection against discrimination.
Between Who I Was and Who I Am Becoming
For Tanya, resettlement did not erase the past, but rather layered new responsibilities, languages, and routines over her roots. “It’s an ongoing dialogue within myself,” she reflected. “Emotionally, it brought a deep sense of grief and loss—not just of home, but of identity and familiarity. At the same time, it has taught me resilience and the capacity to rebuild.”
For many displaced individuals, this inner dialogue lasts for years. Preserving cultural identity becomes a way to find continuity with the past, the community, and yourself, especially when everything familiar has been lost. “Being a mother, I feel a stronger responsibility to pass on my culture, language, and values, not just as heritage, but as a source of strength and belonging for the next generation.”
Preserving cultural continuity can support psychological well-being, but it does not erase the emotional consequences of displacement. Displaced individuals continue to face high rates of post-traumatic stress disorder and depression compared to the general population in Canada. Daily experiences of social exclusion often have these challenges, especially for individuals with “multiple marginalized identities”, such as LGBTQ+ newcomers.
Tanya also reflected on the invisible pressure to move on quickly. “There have been moments where external expectations moved faster than inner readiness,” she said. Systems and social norms sometimes assume a faster recovery than individuals may be ready for, making it difficult to fully process the emotional impact of starting over. This process can be even more difficult to do so in the context of forced migration, fleeing a war when there was no closure but a simple urgency to survive. “Healing is not linear,” Tanya added, “and everyone deserves the grace to process at their own pace.”
Finding a Place to Feel Like Myself Again
Successful integration in a new country or community does not only rely on housing and employment, but also on a sense of belonging. Studies show that this feeling can improve mental health, help people build relationships, and make it easier to find work. Integration is not an immediate phenomenon, but rather an emotional and relational process that unfolds through daily actions. Tanya recalls moments and brief, genuine gestures that softened displacement. “I began to feel a sense of belonging in spaces where mutual respect, kindness, and cultural curiosity were present,” she reflected. “A shared laugh, a conversation in my language, or someone simply asking thoughtful questions” left lasting impressions.
Like many who have experienced migration, Tanya has found a special connection with others who were displaced, even when their paths differ. “Yes, there’s a kind of unspoken understanding among people who have gone through displacement,” she explained. “Our stories may differ, but the emotions behind them often overlap—and that creates a unique sense of solidarity.” This quiet solidarity, built on shared pursuit of stability and safety, became a source of comfort and a support network.
This solidarity did not come overnight: “Socially, [displacement] was isolating at first,” Tanya admitted. “But over time, I’ve found a sense of community through shared experiences with others who’ve also had to start over.” A major part of that journey was finding inclusive spaces where others saw and accepted her, not only as a newcomer, but as a whole person. “I’ve been fortunate to connect with organizations and individuals who genuinely strive to listen, reflect, and act with inclusion,” she said. These spaces offer more than support: they help affirm identity and transform Canada from a place of arrival into a place of renewal.
What We Carry, What We Rebuild
After migrating twice, Tanya’s idea of home no longer fits in a single geography; it has taken on new dimensions. “Home has become less about geography and more about people, memories, and values,” she said. For many who share the experience of displacement, home becomes something carried, not something returned to.
If there is one thing that Tanya wishes more people in British Columbia understood, it is that displacement is not just a narrative of trauma. “It’s not just a story of loss, but also of courage, adaptation, and quiet rebuilding,” she declared. To those just beginning that journey, she offers words she wished she had heard: “It’s okay to not have all the answers right away. Trust that your path will unfold step by step, and you will find community and meaning again.”
Tanya draws strength from seeing others adapt and thrive, even in unfamiliar environments. At the same time, she recognizes that more work is needed in Canada to ensure that mental health supports are culturally sensitive and accessible, and that career transition pathways allow newcomers to continue using their skills and experience.
Her journey—from rebuilding her life after displacement to finding new purpose in the nonprofit sector—demonstrates that starting over does not mean starting from nothing. It means carrying forward everything you’ve learned. Tanya’s story is one of many, reminding us that displacement is not only a story of loss, but of quiet, determined rebuilding.
Edited by Emma Webb
