This Was Not the Newsletter I Planned to Write

Happy Sunday, amigos 😎

This week marked the fourth ER visit in the past three years that ended in emergency surgery for my husband's VP shunt failure. When the pawpaw hits the fan in our world, I count myself incredibly lucky to have a support network that kicks in like clockwork. My gratitude for these precious humans truly knows no bounds.

But as you can imagine, I was also less than thrilled that the very surgery meant to fix the problem has now failed multiple times. And I quickly discovered that expressing those kinds of “negative” feelings isn’t always as welcome in some expat circles as you might expect.

It immediately reminded me of a recent conversation I had with expat psychologist Gabriela Encina about something she calls “toxic positivity,” the subtle pressure to keep smiling and stay grateful, even when life abroad throws you a very real curveball.

So today’s main article is a more personal one, written by yours truly. My apologies in advance if it pops a few positivity bubbles.

And if you make it to the end of the newsletter, you’ll also get a little glimpse into what my current situation looks like without my handyman hubby around the house. Let’s just say… things are getting creative over here.

So grab your coffee… or maybe a glass of wine (today’s newsletter gets a little personal), and let’s dive in, shall we?

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"But You Should Be Grateful"

The pressure many expats feel when life abroad gets hard.

Fifteen combined hours at Coimbra CHUC emergencies over two days. My husband's fourth VP shunt related surgery in Portugal. The third failure.

From time to time, I write reflections inspired by conversations I’ve had with Gabriela Encina. In one of those conversations, she spoke about something that stuck with me: how often expats feel pressure to stay positive no matter what.

This week, I realized just how real that pressure can be.

And when I finally let slip my frustration, my disappointment in how this unfolded, not all responses were equal and some even left me feeling burdened:

"But you should be grateful it's affordable here. In America, you'd be bankrupt."

In some circles, I wasn't allowed to be angry. I wasn't allowed to be scared. I wasn't allowed to say that spending fifteen hours waiting for help while my husband's shunt failed was unacceptable. Because I'm an expat. A foreigner. Living in someone else's country. And gratitude, apparently, is the price of entry.

When did gratitude become a weapon to silence legitimate struggle?

The comparison game is relentless in expat communities. Every frustration, every disappointment, every moment of genuine crisis gets met with the same refrain:

"At least it's not as expensive as..."

"You chose to move here..."

"Do you know how much this would cost in the UK? In the US?"

Yes. I know. And I am grateful we're not facing bankruptcy on top of medical crisis. But here's what “toxic positivity” refuses to acknowledge: I can be both grateful for access to affordable healthcare AND furious that the system failed my husband three times. These aren't mutually exclusive. They're the messy, complicated reality of living between worlds.

Until this week, I was trapped in this performance myself. After the first shunt failure, I focused on gratitude. After the second, I reminded myself how lucky we were. After the third, after fifteen hours in emergency watching my husband suffer while we waited for help that should have come faster… something in me snapped.

I'm done performing gratitude just to soften the reality of what we're going through.

As Gabriela Encina pointed out in our conversation, we expats cover the isolation, the exhaustion, and the uncertainty that come with building a life somewhere new. We hide our struggles because we're supposed to be living the dream. We're not always allowed to admit when the dream becomes a nightmare.

Here are the things I felt wasn't "allowed" to say this week:

But I couldn't say these things. Not to everyone. Not to some expats who would rush to remind me how good I have it. Not to locals who might see it as criticism of their country. Not even to myself, because admitting any of this felt like failure.

The isolation this creates is suffocating. When you can't share the real experience, when you're expected to perform endless gratitude even in crisis, you're left alone with the weight of it all. And that weight compounds when you're already navigating a medical emergency in a foreign country, in a third language, without the infrastructure and support network you once relied on.

Somewhere along the way, an impossible standard crept in: that expats must be perpetually grateful, endlessly adaptable, always positive.

Any deviation from that script can be seen as complaining, as being ungrateful, or as proof you shouldn't have moved in the first place.

But here's the truth I'm allowing myself to speak:

I CAN be grateful for affordable healthcare AND furious about systemic failures that put my husband's life at risk.

I CAN love Portugal AND be disappointed, angry, and scared about this experience.

I CAN appreciate that we're not facing bankruptcy AND still believe patients deserve better care, faster response times.

I CAN be an expat AND still have the right to feel fear, anger, and frustration without qualifying every emotion with "but at least..."

These aren't contradictions. This is the rollercoaster Gabriela described. This is the messy, complicated reality of being human in an impossible situation.

What changed this week wasn't the circumstances. It was dropping the performance. Allowing myself to feel the anger, the terror, the bone-deep exhaustion of watching someone you love suffer while you fight a system that wasn't designed for you. Letting myself be furious without immediately cushioning it with gratitude to make it more comfortable for others.

And you know what? The relief in naming it openly and honestly to those closest to me, even just to myself, even while my anxiety is still raw and my husband is still recovering, is profound.

If you're reading this while going through your own crisis, your own moment of breaking under the weight of toxic positivity, hear this:

Your struggle is real. Your fear is valid. Your anger is justified. Even if "it could be worse somewhere else." Even if you "chose this life." Even if other people think you should just be grateful.

You are not ungrateful for naming what's hard. You're not complaining for acknowledging when systems don't work the way we need them to. You're not weak for admitting you're scared, exhausted, or wondering if you made a terrible mistake.

You're human. In an impossible situation. In a country that isn't yours. In a language that might not be yours. Without the safety nets you once took for granted.

Find one person who will let you be honest without the "at least" comparisons. One person who won't rush to remind you how good you have it. One person who can hold space for both your gratitude and your rage.

Because you're allowed to feel it all. And you deserve better than being silenced by toxic positivity when you need support the most.

🧑‍⚕

Editor's note: This article was written during a difficult week for our family. Thank you to everyone who showered us with love and support.

Portugal’s property market is evolving quickly, with new tax rules, tighter regulations, and changing incentives affecting how foreigners buy, own, rent, and sell property.

Fresh Legal Group is hosting a free webinar to break down what these changes actually mean in practice for expats and investors.

They’ll cover:

📅 Date: Thursday, 12 March

⏰ Time: 16:00 (Portugal time)

👉 Save your spot here

If you’re thinking about buying, selling, or investing in property in Portugal, this is worth attending.

Thanks for reading! 💌

Hustle on!

Angelique🧞‍♀️

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