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- Two Things In Life Are Certain: Pasteis de Natas and Taxes
Two Things In Life Are Certain: Pasteis de Natas and Taxes
Reflections on Tax Day, Change, and Starting Over
As I sit here on Portuguese tax day, surrounded by documents from two countries and a new business, I'm struck by how these seemingly mundane papers tell the story of our family's journey over the past year.
What began as a straightforward annual task has become a moment of reflection on the major life transitions we've navigated together.
Collecting receipts from our children’s former daycare in the States, reviewing W2s from the job I loved but was ultimately let go from—each piece of paper represents a chapter of our lives now closed.
These documents are more than just numbers for the tax authorities; they’re artifacts of the life we built, cherished, and ultimately chose to reimagine when we made the ridiculous choice to move to Portugal. This move also made the task of tracking down some of those last 1099s and such quite difficult due to the joy of mail forwarding. That’s for another complaint, though.
The chaos and courage of change
This transition has been both terrifying and liberating.
There’s something uniquely challenging about uprooting your family from everything familiar—beloved routines, deeply rooted friendships, the comfort of knowing exactly where to go for the best coffee or how to navigate the school drop-off without thinking twice.
Instead, we embraced uncertainty, culture shock, and the slow, humbling process of starting over.
Onde está o creme para as fraldas?
Some days, it felt like we were learning to walk again.
Grocery shopping with DeepL, yet still getting the translation slightly wrong and ending up with more shower gel instead of body lotion
Doctor visits requiring courage, and creatively having to explain my kids’ symptoms to an old school pediatrician that is probably going to ignore it anyway
Everyday tasks—like tracking down a package—becoming the project of the day
Even the friendly moments cause confusion, such as a neighbor offering a cheerful “Boa tarde,” and our exhausted minds scrambling to reply correctly to one of the most common phrases you’ll ever encounter.
But in the midst of discomfort, you discover new strengths.
The same resilience we now help others to find in themselves showed up for me too—in unexpected ways. Through:
Navigating Portuguese bureaucracy
Helping our kids adjust to new schools
Rebuilding a support network from the ground up
It’s a humbling experience, to say the literal least. A good experience though, as I’ve learned to ask for help more freely, extend grace to myself, and accept that joy and struggle can live side by side.
For every frustrating encounter with a confusing form or a miscommunication at the pharmacy, there’s been an awe-filled moment of beauty: a spontaneous beach day at Guincho, the sound of our children speaking the local language while making friends at the park, or the quiet pride that comes from successfully navigating an exchange with a cashier hiccup free.
What I’ve learned most profoundly is that major life transitions exist in a beautiful paradox:
We can feel deeply connected to our roots while also embracing the independence of charting a new course.
We can miss home terribly on some days while celebrating our newfound freedom on others.
That duality isn’t a contradiction—it’s the essence of meaningful change.
Unsplash
Living abroad has given me a deeper appreciation for letting go—not of our identity, but of the assumption that it must remain static.
We’ve shed roles and routines we thought defined us, only to find they were just the scaffolding—not the structure.
Aswe help others navigate their own career shifts and international moves, I draw on these personal experiences daily.
Talking about the transition is one thing; Living through transformation is something else entirely.
It allows me to sit with others in their uncertainty and say with honesty: “I know this is hard—and I know you can do it.”
Your turn: Embracing what's next
So, if you're facing a transition—whether it's a new job, a move abroad, or just the start of something different—here’s what I want you to remember:
🌟 It’s okay to feel both excited and afraid.
🌟 It’s normal to mourn what you’re leaving behind.
🌟 Growth happens in the tension between where you were and where you’re headed.
The messiness of change often holds the most beautiful parts of the story.
The papers on my desk will eventually be filed and forgotten, but the story they represent—the courage, the change, the growth—will stay with me.
If you’re writing your own next chapter, know this: you’re not alone.
You’re in the middle of becoming.
Until next time,
Benn (+ Melissa)
P.S. If you still want to pick up and move to Portugal after thinking more about taxes, check out our brand new starter guide for moving to this beautiful place.
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