Living abroad is a dream for many. A decision that usually comes with courage, opportunities, and that feeling that “life is finally moving forward.” But along with all of this, there is a quiet side — one that almost no one likes to admit, much less expose: loneliness.

And it’s not just any kind of loneliness. It’s a loneliness that settles in even when you have friends, a job, a routine… even when everything seems to be “working out.”
A loneliness that shows up in the small moments of the day, in the silence of the house, in Sundays that feel too long.
That’s what we’re talking about here.

The loneliness no one sees

There is a kind of loneliness that has nothing to do with being alone, but with feeling that something — or someone — is missing, something that used to be part of who you were.
It’s the feeling of no longer having immediate references:
no one who understands your expressions without you having to explain them,
no one who knows exactly what “I’m tired, but I’m okay” really means,
no one who recognizes the way you breathe when you’re worried.

When you live abroad, you realize that the world around you doesn’t know you.
And as much freedom as that can bring, it also brings a certain sense of vulnerability.

When even the language weighs on you

Speaking a language that isn’t yours requires an effort that many people underestimate.
It’s not just about grammar.
It’s about identity.
You think in Portuguese, feel in Portuguese, dream in Portuguese — but you have to exist in another language.
And that’s exhausting.
It’s exhausting not being able to explain a joke.
It’s exhausting not having words to name exactly what you feel.
It’s exhausting to answer everything in a simpler way than you would in your native language.
It’s exhausting not recognizing yourself in the way you speak.

The life that goes on in Brazil

Another part of loneliness is realizing that life in Brazil continues — and you are no longer part of it.
Birthdays, gatherings, barbecues, coffees, everyday news…
People keep changing, growing, going through phases, while you experience everything from a distance.
And at some point, the question arises:
“Do I still belong to all of this?”

It’s a silent grief.
A grief that few people recognize, but that weighs heavily.

The fear of saying that it’s hard

Anyone who lives abroad knows the script well:
“You’re complaining with a full belly.”
“But your life there is so much better.”
“I wish I had your opportunity.”

Because of this, many immigrants swallow what they feel, put on a smile over the pain, and keep pretending that everything is fine — even when it isn’t.
But feelings don’t disappear when they are avoided.
They accumulate.
And little by little, they begin to demand space.

What this loneliness is trying to tell you

The loneliness of living abroad is not a sign of failure.
It doesn’t mean ingratitude.
It doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice.
It is simply a reminder:

You are human.
You miss things.
You need connections that make sense.
You need a language that holds you.
You need to be heard without having to translate your soul.

And all of that is legitimate.

Conclusion: you don’t have to face this alone

Life abroad can be transformative, but it can also be emotionally challenging. Talking about this side doesn’t diminish your achievements — it honors your experience.
If you feel that this loneliness has been taking up more space than it should, talking about it may open inner paths you haven’t explored yet.

If you’d like, we can walk through this together.

👉 Online sessions, in Portuguese, for those living abroad who want a safe space to talk about what they feel.
Schedule a session when it feels like the right time.