In almost every village in Nepal, someone is missing from almost every household. A husband in Qatar. A son in Malaysia. A daughter in the Gulf or a brother in Japan. People who may not come home for years pay for the new roof, the school fees and the motorbike in the yard.

The economic story is well known. According to Nepal Rastra Bank, remittance inflows in fiscal year 2025/26 reached Rs2.363 trillion, equal to about 35.8 percent of GDP. The Department of Foreign Employment issued 792,187 labour approvals in the same year, down from 839,266 in 2024/25 but still enormous for a country of Nepal’s size.

The human story is told less often, especially the part about those who stay behind.

A burden carried at home

When a man migrates for work, his wife often takes on the jobs of two people. She manages the farm, the household, the children and his ageing parents, while living in her in-laws’ home. She handles money that arrives irregularly and debts taken on to pay recruitment fees. She is watched closely by relatives and neighbours, and judged for how she spends or behaves.

The evidence suggests that this weighs heavily. A study published in BMJ Open on December 15, 2025, surveyed 179 wives of migrant workers in Jhapa. It found that 54.7 percent showed symptoms of depression, 53.1 percent symptoms of anxiety and 60.9 percent symptoms of stress.

These are not small numbers. They suggest that, in some communities, distress is the ordinary condition of the women holding families together.

There is also fear. The Foreign Employment Board recorded 1,438 deaths of Nepali migrant workers abroad between July 17, 2025, and June 14, 2026, more than four every day. In the fiscal year before that, it recorded 1,583.

Behind each of those deaths is a family that received a phone call it had dreaded. And behind them are many more families who live with the same possibility. A missed call, a phone that goes unanswered for a day or a rumour about an accident at a construction site can bring days of anxiety.

Children are affected too. They may miss a parent deeply, struggle at school or feel they must grow up quickly. Grandparents who care for them may be unwell themselves.

The government and development partners already run programmes for migrant workers, from pre-departure orientation to welfare funds. Those programmes could do more for families at home.

First, local health posts and female community health volunteers are trusted in their communities. With basic training, they could recognise signs of depression and anxiety among migrants’ families and refer those who need more help.

Second, ward offices and local governments could support women’s groups where wives of migrant workers can meet, share advice and simply be with others who understand. Isolation is one of the heaviest parts of waiting.

Third, pre-departure orientation could include a session for families, not only workers, covering how to stay connected, how to manage money together and where to find support.

Fourth, when a worker dies abroad, families need practical and emotional support quickly, not only compensation that may take months to arrive.

Staying in touch also matters for mental health. Many families now talk daily by video call, which can be a lifeline. But calls are often rushed, interrupted by bad connections or work shifts, and full of practical matters. There is little space for feelings.

Writing can help fill that gap. A 2006 meta-analysis in Psychological Bulletin found that writing about difficult experiences brings small but real benefits for well-being. In my work on blog psychology, I have seen how writing helps people name feelings they might otherwise swallow. A wife who keeps a short journal, or a worker who writes letters home about how he is really doing, may find it easier to share what a hurried phone call cannot hold. Children can write or draw for an absent parent, and keep a record of the months apart.

Some families may want to share these experiences more widely, and their stories can help others feel less alone. Others will prefer privacy, and that is equally valid.

Foreign employment has lifted many Nepali families out of poverty, and it will remain part of the country’s life for years to come. But its true cost includes the anxiety, loneliness and grief of the people at home. Recognising that cost, and supporting the families who carry it, is a matter of fairness as well as health.

If you are struggling, you can call the national suicide prevention helpline at the Mental Hospital, Lagankhel, on 1166. In an emergency, call the police on 100.