The Moving Abroad Reality Check
Why hardship is part of the package, not a sign you chose wrong
As the situation in the US continues to degrade and more people are Googling “how to move to Portugal” or “easiest countries for expats,” I feel a responsibility to tell you something frank and uncomfortable:
Moving abroad won’t fix your problems.
All it does is exchange them.
And if you don’t understand that going in, you’re setting yourself up for a brutal wake-up call.
So You Want to Move Abroad? Here's What Actually Happens
I’m not saying this to discourage you; there are huge benefits to moving abroad. I moved my family to Belize in 2022; sold our house, exited our vehicle leases, packed up a 7-week-old baby, a 17-month-old toddler, and two dogs, and left Canada behind.
We built a house from the ground up, started new careers, and got our asses handed to us in ways I never saw coming, which is why I want to share how crucial it is to know what may lie ahead when you make a similar move.
What You’re Really Trading
A desire for physical change—better weather, lower cost of living, a slower pace—can be a key factor in leaving your home country. But that novelty fades fast. You quickly adjust to your new environment—even if that means becoming comfortable with being uncomfortable—the exotic becomes ordinary, and voilà, you begin to assume a new set of challenges.
The question isn’t: “Will difficulties appear?” (they will), but “Which struggles do I want?”
Do you want the problem of navigating a foreign bureaucracy, or the challenge of sitting in rush hour traffic for 3-4 hours a day? (I did. It sucked. I don’t miss it.)
Do you want the problem of being far from aging parents? 1Or the difficulty of living somewhere that no longer aligns with your values?
Do you want the challenge of rebuilding your social circle from scratch? Or the problem of staying stuck in a life that feels like it’s on autopilot?
While these trade-offs can suck to make, there is a hidden power in them:
You’re no longer beholden to the circumstantial problems that intrinsically arise in your given environment.
When you understand you’re choosing your struggles—not eliminating them—you become the architect of your own life. You’re no longer restricted by the environment you were born into. You can say, “I prefer navigating [country X’s] bureaucracy over my home country’s housing crisis.” That’s power. And also privilege; millions of people don’t have that choice. And it’s exactly why you need to go in ready.
But there are a couple of caveats:
That power is only beneficial when you’re honest about what you’re signing up for.
There’s a blind spot when “choosing your struggles”: you can’t fully understand what the new challenges will be until you start living in your host country.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t really know what I was signing up for when I moved to Belize. Research only uncovers so much.
The Invisible Trade-Offs
My wife and I are action people, and while we had a plan (you need one in order to make such a move), we got swept up in said plan and didn’t really consider things like:
The village we’d need to raise our kids
The importance of friends and interpersonal relationships
The toll that the stress of an international move—with all its moving parts—can take on a marriage
The extended timeline for starting new careers
These are real difficulties. Challenges we didn’t have back home but traded for anyway. Now, my wife and I are resilient AF, and made it work, but barely at times. By moving to Belize, we traded the familiar and seemingly secure life in Canada for utter uncertainty.
A Partial Inventory of Shit That Went Wrong
So, keep this in mind: If someone’s selling the dream without the nightmare, they’re just selling. But if you want longevity in a foreign country, you have to get cozy with the mess.
So what does “getting cozy with the mess” actually look like? Here’s a list of some things my family and I faced in our first two-and-a-half years in Belize:
Health Scares
A bacterial infection that nearly took our youngest son within weeks of arriving
A poisonous cane toad that nearly killed one of our dogs
A toxic tropical plant that nearly offed one of our cats
A son who split his head open—down to the skull—on a Sunday and needed stitches in a country where hospitals are closed on Sunday (it happened on a Sunday).
Our other son, who needed some too, after he dropped a rusty machete on his foot
None of this happened because we’re reckless parents, but because daily life looks different, risks surface differently, and you learn fast how much vigilance a new environment demands.
Navigating The “Angry Expat” Gauntlet.
This consists of a social landscape filled with people who:
Moved for the wrong reasons
Moved because they thought it would change them
Imported their personal baggage and unresolved issues along with their shipping container
Logistical Chaos
Multiple flat tires
Blown engine lines
Constant vehicle trouble- the Caribbean has a way with automobiles and all their metal and electrical components
Bureaucratic BS:
Immigration woes
Transportation department challenges
Dealing with a stolen identity back in Canada, and trying to sort out the security of my personal information with the government, law enforcement departments, and a banking system that failed to protect my privacy (but wouldn’t take responsibility)
Honestly, there were a couple of years when it felt like the universe was testing our resolve to be in Belize. And, this isn’t just us. Many people we know, at least here in Belize, have dealt with things they never bargained for:
A spouse dying unexpectedly
A beloved dog snatched from the shoreline by a crocodile
A marriage evaporating into salt air while a dream-house-on-the-beach rots half completed in the Caribbean sun
A family member suddenly passing away back home
An expat community shunning you so badly that you had to move away
The ubiquitous yet subtle sense that you can’t find your groove
Most of the time, just a single item from the list is enough to make someone leave as quickly as they arrived. The “shitty phase” is real, and many people give up the moment they experience it.
Based on conversations with dozens of expats and my own observations, I’d estimate only 20-25% of people who move to Belize (or abroad in general) actually make it work long-term. Most people experience a sense of “this is difficult” and mistake it for “I made the wrong decision” when their dream life doesn’t unfold as expected.
And I totally get that.
We were very close to leaving, too. For two years, we weren’t sure we’d stay. We rented our house out. We looked at other countries. We came close to calling it.
But we also recognized that we made a commitment to move and felt it necessary to give it a real shot, and not just tuck tail and run because we’d been dragged through some shit. We stayed because we wanted to ensure that we could do more than just survive here in Belize; we wanted to know if we could thrive. And that required staying, facing our challenges, and finding sustainable solutions.
Now, almost four years in, we’re starting to feel like we’re getting there.
The Relocation Reality Check
Assumption 1:
Moving abroad is a “fresh start.”
The Reality:
Sure… but also no. You bring your internal baggage—emotional, political, and social—across the border. Unresolved issues don’t disappear at customs; they just get a new backdrop.
Assumption 2:
You’ll save money instantly
The Reality:
Maybe, but you trade savings for less convenience. Between “gringo taxes,” home builds, unexpected medical bills, and the burned runway of starting a new career, financial hardship can arrive faster than you think.
Assumption 3:
It’s a permanent vacation
The Reality:
This is a dangerous mindset. Home is a commitment, not a resort. Without the structure of work or a familiar community, “vacay all day” can quietly spiral into unhealthy habits like excessive drinking and sedentary behaviour.
Assumption 4:
Leaving is the hard part
The Reality:
Selling your stuff is just logistics. The real test is the second year—when the novelty wears off, and you have to decide, every single day, whether you’re staying after the “magic” is gone.
Reframing the Mess
Part of our resolve to stay came from realizing that hardships are part of life. Shit happens, no matter where in the world you are. Yet, so many people think the moment they “head for greener pastures,” they are somehow immune to it all; that retirement, or whatever life event prompts the move, somehow graduates you out of having to deal with friction points.
And that’s when the collision between the story in your head and the life you’re actually living occurs.
The reality is that hardship is just part of moving abroad; it opens doors to new and unforeseen struggles. So, don’t be surprised when expectations lie smashed on the floor in a puddle of blood and vomit. The sooner you recognize this, the sooner you’ll overcome whatever comes your way.
Why The “Shit Phase” is Worth It
After all I’ve been through, I have zero regrets and no plans to return to Canada.
If you’re scared that moving abroad will blow up your life, it very well might. But that doesn’t mean you can’t put everything back together, better than it was. Even after everything I faced, I discovered:
Meaningful friendships with kind-hearted people who offered us help when we needed it most
A slower pace of life: no consumerism treadmill, no rush hour, no 9-to-5 grind
The beauty of living beside the sea, in the jungle, and in the mountains
New passions: writing, podcasting, and connecting with people around the world
Resilience that I didn’t even know my wife and I had
A deeper understanding of each other and our marriage
A new outlook on life; one built on intention, not inertia
And none of that would have been possible if we’d stayed comfortable and kept our struggles from home.
If I Could Video Chat My 2022 Self Before the Move, Here’s What I’d Say to Him
I’d be more systematic in my learning about the messiness of life in the host country, without falling prey to serial doom posters and naysayers.
I’d look for people who “shoot straight” in their Facebook group posts and online forum comments; if they aren’t sharing their failures, they aren’t giving you the full story.
I’d expect the “life explosion” and plan for it. By expecting things to break—your car, your bank account, your patience, your relationship—you can devise a course of action to take, before it happens, for when it happens.
I’d expect the constant tests, so I wouldn’t feel so damn bad about myself when it arrives, and I inevitably fail them.
I would fully understand that, by moving, I’m inadvertently taking on new challenges. Being aware of this allows you to approach the difficulties in a more meaningful way.
I would fully step into the power of choosing and the privilege that comes with it, taking full responsibility for the choices I’ll make in the future.
What You Should Do If You’re Starting Out
Stop waiting for certainty. As I’ve described above, it’s pretty clear that nothing is certain. The “right time” never comes, not before you leave, and not after.
Run some realistic numbers and build in a massive contingency.
If you can swing it, test a location before you make the move.
Most definitely build a remote income stream before you leave.
Familiarize yourself with the inevitable friction points you’ll face, because you will be tested, early and often.
Prepare yourself for difficulties now and devise a plan for how to approach them, so your mind doesn’t immediately jump to “I’ve failed and need to go home” when something hard happens.
Because it will happen. And when it does, you’ll need to decide:
Is this the struggle I chose?
Is this the life I’m building?
But just remember: You got this.
Still Want to Start Planning?
If I haven’t scared the bejesus out of you and you’re still eager to move, I have a few resources that can help you navigate the logistics without the hype:
The Moving Abroad Punchlist: A systematic way to plan your move without losing your mind.
The Country Finder Prompt: Use AI to help narrow down where your “preferred struggles” might live.
If you enjoy this, you might also like Foreign Radio Podcast, A Foreign Perspective, Foreigner501, Foreign Tales, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-winning book Home in Good Hands. If you’d like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or buying me a coffee. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.
On a recent visit over the holidays, my Dad told me it would be his last; travel is just too hard on him now.