Invisible Exile: Between Benzodiazepines and Potatoes

"Deliveroo driver arrested after returning to airport to collect bag containing €24,000 worth of pills." This was the headline published by the portal Irlanda.com via Instagram. The article reports that a Brazilian was accused of transporting 11,730 benzodiazepine pills, anxiolytic medications, for sale or distribution. In his statement, he claimed they were for personal use, but the sheer quantity raised questions about potential commercialization among immigrants and within the Brazilian community in the comments. The reflection I propose here goes beyond what is right or wrong; rather, what leads a Brazilian to carry such a large quantity of controlled medication? Necessity? Opportunity? Demand? Is the Brazilian community in Ireland more anxious and depressed? Is this being part of immigration process, and the need for a more welcoming perspective and supporting network, revealing its hidden facets?

📌 Read the original article at: Irlanda.com and follow on Instagram: @irlanda.com

The situation is indeed alarming, but it is also just the tip of the iceberg alerting us to a greater issue: immigrant mental health. When we leave our country, we do not just leave behind friends and family but also an entire way of life and a way of existing within a society that ceases to be our reality once we cross the immigration line. Immigration is much more than crossing an ocean. It is a psychological displacement, a silent grief, an adaptation that is not always fluid and easy. It is also the push towards a new self that, once embarked upon, never returns to what it once was.

The Grief of Those Who Stay and Those Who Leave

Moving to another country is not just about learning a new language, finding a job, and adapting to the a new climate. It is also about dealing with the incompleteness our choice, whilst human beings, by nature, already carries a void regardless of choice; when one becomes an immigrant, this void grows, and find new places and it echoes in the absence of familiar smells, flavours, and certainties that have been passed down through generations and suddenly seem to disappear. Food, for example, for the Latin community, is synonymous of affective memory, belonging-sense, and celebration with loved ones. In Brazil, lunch is an event! In Ireland, a sandwich, tea, and a few biscuits do the job. These are details taken for granted, now sheltered in exile, often repressed and forced down our throats but poorly digested... Lost in the daily rush for adaptation—another stomachache, another discomfort. As if going through building a new life perspective wasn't enough.  It is that latent nostalgia, often neglected or suppressed, passing unnoticed—however, everything what does not reach awareness manifests as a symptom.

And when this adaptation process becomes more difficult than expected? When symptoms scream, but the lack of time, support, and emotional space silence that void echo and prevent us from listening to what our soul is saying? How to please and find comfort, on what lives under our conscious surface?

It is natural for humans to turn to seek for answers and relief in familiar habits, the well (un)known (old patterns), driven by the old logic of "sweeping it under the rug." We seek for what we believe to be quick fixes, such as self-medication and, it is world wide pattern to seek immediate relief from discomfort. Humans seek for immediate pleasure, results from globalization and capitalism, where everything happens so fast and is built to make us believe that we deserve nothing, but the best. Anything that eases anxiety seems like a shiny solution.

It is a fact that self-medication is deeply rooted in Brazilian culture, with its origins tracing back to Indigenous and African traditions. Before colonization, our ancestors used medicinal herbs, spiritual rituals, shamans, and healers as essential elements of healing and caring for the body and mind. This ancestral wisdom has been absorbed and adapted over centuries, becoming part of our everyday lives. However, when we transport this practice to a context where healthcare access is more restricted, bureaucratic, and unconscious, self-medication takes on a new dimension: the need to fill gaps left by a healthcare system that is not always accessible or welcoming to immigrants.

What Brazilian, upon arriving in Ireland and needing a doctor, has not felt hesitant or lost on how to proceed? The scarcity of GPs, the always-paid consultations, and diagnoses that can feel impersonal—reinforcing the tendency to try to solve issues alone, just as they amplify the need for fast and straightforward relief.

Between SUS and the Irish Healthcare System

In Brazil, the idea of going to a doctor without spending a fortune is part of our reality (thank you, SUS!), despite its difficulties. In Ireland, the relationship with medicine is different: expensive consultations, limited access to specialists, difficulty obtaining prescriptions, long waiting periods, and reports of misdiagnoses create tension and frustration. For an immigrant, feeling unwell might not only mean physical discomfort but also a financial dilemma. And here comes another pinch of salt to season this reflection: this is how self-medication strengthens! That anxiolytic purchased in Brazil starts to be rationed. That old prescription becomes a shield against the uncertainty of the local system and also, an old and well known friend.

And when mental health is already fragile from the whirlwind of emotions that is living and adapting to the immigration process, this cycle worsens. Isolation, difficult adaptation, longing for family—all these elements collide within a body already struggling to find a sense of belonging, craving for feeling strong and rooted. Without realizing it, the unconscious takes over, and the cycle repeats itself through patterns where the immediate solution always seems to be another pill in the suitcase. From herbal tea to benzodiazepines—avoid discomfort!

As an immigrant for seven years and counting, I understand that moving to another country and going through an exchange experience is something that unfolds beyond geographical relocation—immigration is, above all, mental. Becoming conscious of this process is just as crucial to well-being as handling the bureaucracy. Adapting to a new country is not only about learning a language and securing a job; it is also about transforming how we see ourselves within this new social, professional, geographical, political, cultural, and, most importantly, psychological context. It is the foundation that allows all other aspects to fit into place, while also embracing the inevitable displacement of belonging to two worlds and, at the same time, to neither.

The importance of analysis and self-awareness during this process, which challenges us in so many ways, cannot be underestimated or overshadowed by an isolated case. The larger issue is growing, and mental health MUST be discussed.

What Can We Do?

This article does not aim to judge or blame but rather to raise an alert: Are we taking care of our health in the best way possible? Are we creating spaces for conversations about how immigration impacts our emotional well-being? Are we allowing ourselves to adapt not just geographically but also psychologically to our choices and renunciations? Are we experiencing this grief in a healthy way? Are we respecting our own process?

To deepen this discussion, I invite Brazilian readers in Ireland to participate in an anonymous survey on mental health and cultural adaptation. Collecting these perceptions can help us better understand the impact of immigration and provide relevant data to expand this debate.

📩 Access the survey here: Click Here

If you made it this far, perhaps this conversation resonated with you or someone you know. So, may this be an opportunity for us to reflect together on the challenges and possible paths toward well-being—one that does not rely on a bottle of pills in our luggage.

If you are a non-Brazilian reader, please share this article and survey with your Brazilian colleagues, I am sure you already know one! :)

Thank you for coming this far,

We talk soon,

Carol