That’s what one of my older patients said to me in our very first session after he was moved unexpectedly from his home into assisted living. He wasn’t exaggerating. He wasn’t being dramatic. He was telling me exactly how he felt.
If you work with older adults, you’ve probably heard something like this. And if you haven’t yet, you will. When that moment comes, I want you to be ready with the clinical language, the conceptual framework, and the therapeutic tools to actually help.
What this person was describing has a name: Transfer Trauma.
Transfer trauma — also called Relocation Stress Syndrome (RSS) — is a recognized pattern of emotional, cognitive, behavioral, and functional disruption that can follow an older adult’s move from one care setting to another. This is especially true when the move is involuntary, sudden, poorly prepared, or excludes the older adult from the decision-making process (Manion & Rantz, 1995; Scott et al., 2025).
In geriatric practice, transfer trauma is best understood not as a simple reaction to change, but as a multi-dimensional response to profound loss — loss of home, autonomy, identity, familiar relationships, and the predictable rhythms of daily life (Brownie et al., 2014; Scott et al., 2025).
Transfer trauma is most often seen when older adults move from:
Transfer trauma deserves its own clinical category — not as a footnote to general adjustment, but as a distinct, identifiable syndrome with real consequences for older adults’ mental and physical health.
Four core processes drive relocation stress syndrome (Brownie et al., 2014; Sullivan & Williams, 2017; Scott et al., 2025):
For many residents, this is not experienced as simply moving to a new address. It’s experienced as a forced crossing into a different chapter of life — one they didn’t choose and may not be ready for.
Families sometimes deceive older adults about a move thinking it will make things easier on everyone — a trip to the doctor that doesn’t end at home, or a temporary stay that was never actually temporary. This strategy rarely makes things easier and often comes with many consequences.
Deception doesn’t allow the person time to prepare, engage in anticipatory coping, and shared decision-making that buffer relocation stress, and layers an experience of betrayal on top of an already destabilizing transition (Scott et al., 2025). The result is often intensified agitation, despair, refusal to engage, and deep difficulty forming trust in the new setting.
In a recent study (Scott et al, 2025), researchers asked older adults to describe what it was like to live in long-term care.
The language residents used was not the language of adjustment, it was often the language of resignation:
“I suppose I don’t really want to be here, but I have no choice in the matter. I’m here whether I like it or not. I’m not happy about it.” (p. 6)
“I mean I put up with it. Accept is a sort of stronger word… I put up with it, but I don’t like it.” (p. 6)
These aren’t quotes from people in acute crisis. These are people who have adapted — behaviorally. But behavioral compliance is not the same as emotional integration, and as clinicians, we know the difference.
Residents also described something that goes even deeper than grief: identity rupture.
“This is not really me. I’m not really… All of me [is not] here. Part of me is somewhere else.” And later: “To me it’s rather as if I lost myself.” (p. 7)
Another resident described residential care as a ‘regimented, almost prison-like existence‘ (p. 6) — language that echoes my own patient’s words at the beginning of this article.
Across cultural contexts, when the move is not experiences as chosen or collaborative, the resident often experiences the transition as betrayal, abandonment, resentment, and rejection (de Guzman et al., 2012; Sussman & Dupuis, 2014; Zamanzadeh et al., 2017).
Transfer trauma can contain elements of grief, attachment rupture, moral injury, and identity threat — not simply adjustment difficulty.
Transfer trauma shows up across emotional, cognitive, behavioral, and physical domains (Manion & Rantz, 1995; Scott et al., 2025). Knowing the full picture helps us avoid misattributing distress to dementia progression or pre-existing psychopathology.
It’s important to note that in frail older adults and in those living with dementia disorders, behavioral expressions are often the language of distress (Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025).
The person may not say ‘I am grieving.‘ Instead, they may refuse breakfast, stop going to bingo, or ask every single day when they are going home. This might be how transfer trauma is manifesting.
Not every move leads to transfer trauma — but certain circumstances make it far more likely. Research consistently identifies the following risk factors (Brownie et al., 2014; McKechnie et al., 2018; Scott et al., 2025; Wilson, 1997):
Involuntary or poorly prepared moves confer significantly greater risk for Transfer Trauma than moves in which the older adult retains agency and voice.
Now that we know how deeply impactful transfer trauma is, it’s critical that we lean in, provide assessment and offer help with the adjustment and coping.
Leaving people alone with this level of distress creates another assault to the person’s identity and dignity as it implies that their pain is invisible. The absence of professional support does not mean the suffering stops — it means the person suffers without anyone to help them make sense of it or find their way through.
Psychotherapy has a meaningful and important role to play. And you — the therapist who shows up, who names what is happening, who stays present in the pain — are not a nice extra. You are essential.
Therapists are not a nice-to-have in long-term care settings. We are an essential part of what helps older adults survive and sometimes even reclaim a sense of self after one of the most disorienting transitions of their lives.
Transfer trauma should be considered whenever an older adult shows emotional or functional deterioration after a move, especially when the move was unwanted, rushed, or not transparent (Brownie et al., 2014; Scott et al., 2025). A thorough assessment includes (Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025):
At its core, therapy for transfer trauma focuses on (Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025):
A range of interventions can be adapted for this population (Davison et al., 2022; Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025):
For residents with dementia or limited verbal capacity, insight-oriented approaches may not be an option. Instead consider (Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025):
Research tells us that residents fare better when they can create a homelike space with cherished belongings, preserve meaningful routines, maintain the ability to say no to unwanted activities, form new connections, and contribute to others’ wellbeing (Scott et al., 2025).
These coping strategies map directly onto the three core psychological needs identified by Self-Determination Theory: autonomy, relatedness, and competence (Deci & Ryan, 2000). Therapy that supports those needs, even in small ways, can be incredibly rewarding, and help a person reclaim a sense of self in the midst of change.
Transfer trauma is not only an individual mental health issue. It’s a systems issue — shaped by admission practices, how facilities communicate, how daily routines are structured, and how much organizations actually preserve autonomy and personhood (Polacsek & Woolford, 2022; Scott et al., 2025).
As clinicians, we can do meaningful work beyond direct therapy by consulting with long-term care organizations. That work might include:
These are not peripheral quality-of-life issues. They are central prevention strategies for transfer trauma — and our expertise as mental health clinicians is directly relevant to every one of them.
In wrapping up, I want to summarize five key clinical takeaways as it relates to Transfer Trauma or Relocation Stress Syndrome.
When my patient told me he felt like he “was doing time for a crime he never committed”, what he needed wasn’t just a sympathetic ear. He needed someone who could hold the reality of what happened to him, help him grieve it, and walk alongside him as he tried to find some small pieces of himself in a place that didn’t yet feel like his.
That is our work. And it matters more than we sometimes realize.
The older adults who land in our offices — or on our caseloads in facilities — after these wrenching transitions are often in the most vulnerable and overlooked moments of their lives. Families are overwhelmed. Staff are stretched. The system rarely pauses to ask the person living the experience: How are you really doing with this big move? What has it been like for you?
As therapists, we can be the ones who ask. We can be the ones who listen. We can be the ones who help them find their footing in unfamiliar ground, and let them know that they’re not alone with this painful transition.
If this article resonated with you, join me for my upcoming course on Therapy Across the Stages of Dementia from Individual to Caregiver Family Therapy (6 CE Credits)
Dr. Regina Koepp is a board certified clinical psychologist, clinical geropsychologist, and founder and CEO of the Center for Mental Health & Aging: the “go to” place for mental health and aging. Dr. Koepp is a sought after speaker on the topics of mental health and aging, caregiving, ageism, resilience, intimacy in the context of life altering Illness, and dementia and sexual expression. Dr. Koepp is on a mission to ensure mental health and belonging for older adults, because every person at every age is worthy of healing, transformation, and love. Learn more about Dr. Regina Koepp here.
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