The Real Reason You Think You Can’t Afford to Move Abroad

It usually isn’t that you’re “bad with money.” It’s that you’re comparing the wrong number, pricing the move like a one-shot leap, and quietly running two lives at once in your head.

You’re not imagining it. Moving abroad feels expensive.

Flights, deposits, paperwork, the first weird month where you don’t know which grocery store is cheap, and every purchase feels like a mini mistake. It adds up fast.

But most Americans who tell themselves “I can’t afford it” are not blocked by Europe’s cost. They’re blocked by the American cost structure they’re still carrying, plus a mental model that treats moving abroad like you have to buy a whole new life in one payment.

The real reason is simpler and more annoying: you don’t have a clear number for what your life actually costs, and you’re pricing the move using your salary and your fear instead of your monthly burn rate and your runway.

Once you see it that way, a lot of “impossible” starts looking like “doable, but not the way you’re picturing it.”

The problem feels like money, but it’s really the way you’re measuring the move

Most people don’t do a moving budget. They do a vibe check.

They picture a European life, then they picture their current income dropping, then they picture rent plus healthcare plus taxes plus flights plus “what if something goes wrong,” and their brain concludes: nope.

That conclusion usually comes from three quiet mistakes.

First, you’re comparing your future life to your current life using the wrong metric. You’re looking at salary, not your monthly burn rate. Salary is what you earn. Burn rate is what your life consumes after taxes, after debt, after the little leaks you stopped noticing.

Second, you’re pricing the move as if it has to be permanent, immediate, and perfect. That’s a fantasy, even for people with money. Real relocations are staged. The cost isn’t one giant boulder, it’s a sequence of smaller pushes.

Third, you’re assuming the U.S. cost structure follows you. It doesn’t always. Some line items shrink. Some vanish. Some mutate into a different kind of expense that is smaller but more annoying.

So you keep telling yourself you can’t afford it, when what you actually can’t afford is the version of the move where you keep every American cost, add every European cost, and demand certainty on day one.

That version is expensive. It’s also optional.

And there’s one more thing people hate admitting: “I can’t afford it” is often a socially acceptable way of saying “I don’t want to risk feeling stupid.” Money feels objective. Fear feels personal. So we call it money.

The American costs you’ve normalized that don’t automatically travel with you

If you want to understand why Europe sometimes feels financially calmer, stop looking at tapas and start looking at the brutal line items Americans treat as normal adulthood.

Health insurance is the obvious one. In October 2025, the average annual premium for employer-sponsored family coverage was reported around $26,993, with workers contributing about $6,850 on average. That’s not a little bill. That’s a second rent in many households.

Transportation is the other monster Americans undercount. The U.S. Department of Transportation has cited average household spending on transportation in the five-figure range annually. Even when you tell yourself your car is “paid off,” you’re still paying the ecosystem: insurance, maintenance, tires, registration, parking, tolls, gas, the random surprise repair that shows up the same month as your dental bill because the universe has jokes.

Then there’s the small stuff that adds up into a lifestyle tax: subscriptions, paid convenience, “we’re too tired to cook,” and constant driving-based spending. Americans spend money not because they’re frivolous, but because the system makes the expensive option the default option.

In many European cities, the defaults change. You can still choose an expensive life, but you have to actively choose it.

Here in Spain, what’s striking isn’t that everything is cheap. It’s that daily life is designed around walking, predictable grocery shopping, and fewer paid convenience traps. Fewer spikes makes a budget feel easier even when the monthly total is not dramatically lower.

This is also why some Americans move abroad and still feel broke. They rebuild the American cost structure inside Europe: car, constant dining out, imported groceries, short-term housing, private everything. Europe doesn’t force you to be sensible. It just makes sensibility easier if you let it.

Stop comparing salaries, compare what your life actually costs per month

This is the moment where the whole thing clicks.

If you want to know whether you can afford to move abroad, you need two numbers:

1. what your life costs now, per month, after taxes
2. what your life would cost there, per month, in the first year and in year two

Most people only have a vague sense of number one, and zero idea of number two. So they fill the gap with anxiety.

Do this instead.

Start with your current monthly burn rate. Not your budget, your burn. Go back three months and total what actually left your accounts, including the boring annualized stuff you forget.

Include:

• housing
• health insurance premiums and out of pocket costs
• transportation, including maintenance and insurance
• groceries and eating out
• subscriptions
• debt payments
• childcare or elder care
• travel and gifts
• the “random life” category

Now divide by three. That’s your real monthly burn.

Most Americans are shocked at this number, not because they’re irresponsible, but because U.S. life hides costs in fragments. You don’t feel the total until you add it.

Now do the same for a European “landing year” estimate, but keep it honest. Housing is the dictator in most of the cities Americans want. If you get housing wrong, nothing else matters.

A practical way to estimate housing in Spain is to use price per square meter benchmarks, then sanity-check against listings. In late 2025, Idealista’s national rental index had Spain around €14.6 per m², Madrid around €22.7 per m², Valencia around €13.5 per m², and Málaga around €15.5 per m². That doesn’t mean every apartment rents at that number, it means you can do fast math that keeps you from lying to yourself.

If you’re picturing 70 m²:

• Spain national index math lands around €1,022 a month
• Valencia math lands around €945 a month
• Málaga math lands around €1,085 a month
• Madrid math lands around €1,589 a month

That is the rent reality. Everything else is secondary.

Once you have two monthly burn rates, the question stops being “can I afford to move abroad” and becomes “how much runway do I need for the transition.”

That’s a solvable problem.

The costs abroad that will surprise you, and why they feel personal

Here’s what actually shocks Americans once they arrive, and it’s not usually the price of bread.

First, the move-in hit. Deposits, agency fees in some markets, first month rent, sometimes last month, sometimes buying appliances because “semi-furnished” is a prank. The first month can cost two to four months of rent in cash before you’ve even lived a day.

Second, bureaucracy costs time, and time costs money. Even when the fees are small, the friction is real. Appointments, copies, translations, travel to offices, taking time off work. People call Europe “slow” like it’s a vibe. Sometimes it’s just admin.

Third, housing quality surprises Americans in both directions. You might pay less and still get a gorgeous neighborhood and great transit. You might also pay a lot and discover the apartment is cold in winter because insulation standards and building ages vary wildly. Windows and heating are money in a way Americans don’t expect until they live through a damp January.

Fourth, your spending shifts to small, recurring cash moments. School meals, pharmacy runs, transit cards, the constant tiny social obligations that are normal in a more community-oriented culture. Spain is not expensive in the American catastrophic sense, but it will still ask you for €10 here, €20 there, and if you don’t track it, you’ll feel like money is disappearing.

Fifth, currency drift messes with your brain. Even if you can afford it, spending in euros while thinking in dollars creates a low-grade anxiety until your brain adapts. It’s not a math problem, it’s a nervous system problem. Currency confusion makes people overspend and under-enjoy the first months.

These costs don’t mean moving abroad is unaffordable. They mean your first year needs a different budget shape than year two. If you expect year two calm during year one chaos, you will conclude it “doesn’t work.”

It can work. You just need to budget for the landing.

A realistic landing-year budget that doesn’t require fantasy income

Let’s talk about a move budget in a way that actually helps.

A landing year budget has three layers:

1. monthly life costs
2. one-time setup costs
3. a buffer for mistakes and delays

Here’s a baseline shape for a couple in Spain renting a normal apartment, living like adults, not like tourists.

Monthly baseline, Valencia or Málaga style

• Rent: €950 to €1,200
• Utilities, internet, phones: €150 to €250
• Groceries: €450 to €650
• Eating out and cafés: €150 to €300
• Transport: €60 to €120
• Household and pharmacy: €100 to €200
• Admin and documents: €50 to €120
• Fun and local travel: €150 to €300
• Buffer: €200 to €400

A sane monthly range lands around €2,210 to €3,540 depending on housing and lifestyle.

Monthly baseline, Madrid-style

Same categories, but rent is heavier. You can still live well, but you will feel the housing gravity.

This is where people trip. They assume “Europe is cheap” and pick the most in-demand capital neighborhoods, then wonder why the budget feels tight. The city didn’t betray you, you chose the most competitive rental market.

One-time setup costs

This is the stuff Americans forget when they say they “can’t afford it.”

• Flights: variable, but real
• Temporary housing while you search: often the biggest mistake expense
• Deposits and first rent payments: often €3,000 to €7,000 depending on rent and terms
• Furniture and household basics: €500 to €2,500 depending on what the apartment includes
• Paperwork friction: small fees plus travel and time

Then add a mistake cushion. Not because you’re incompetent, because relocation is messy. The mistake cushion is the friction fund, the money that prevents every hiccup from turning into panic.

If you stack these properly, the move becomes a runway question:

How many months can you float the landing-year premium while you transition into the stable year-two rhythm?

That’s a finance question, not a dream question.

The mistakes that make people feel broke abroad even when they’re not

If someone tells you “we moved to Europe and it wasn’t cheaper,” ask them two questions.

Did you rent short-term for too long? And did you try to live your American life, just in euros?

Because that’s how people torch money abroad.

Mistake one is living in temporary housing longer than planned. Short-term rentals are the silent killer. They can double your housing cost and keep you in tourist zones where daily spending is higher. This is why “we couldn’t afford it” often translates to “we stayed in the expensive holding pattern.”

Mistake two is keeping the U.S. machine running. Mortgage back home, storage unit, U.S. car insurance, U.S. subscriptions, U.S. phone plan, and then you add Europe on top. Of course it feels impossible. You’re paying for two lives.

Mistake three is buying comfort because you’re overwhelmed. Taxi instead of transit, delivery instead of groceries, English-friendly services at a premium because you’re tired. Totally understandable, and also expensive.

Mistake four is choosing a city based on fantasy, not routine. If your day-to-day life requires long commutes, constant paid transport, or living far from the things you need, you’ll spend more simply to keep functioning. Convenience spending is what kills budgets quietly.

Mistake five is not budgeting for heating and housing quality. People obsess over rent and ignore the physical comfort costs. A cheaper apartment that is damp and cold can create a winter of spending and misery.

Mistake six is trying to do it all at once. New country, new language, new diet, new habits, new friends, new goals. That is not a move, that is a personal reinvention project, and those are expensive in ways you don’t see on a spreadsheet.

A move works when you treat year one as temporary, structured, and slightly boring. The calm life comes later.

Seven days to turn “I can’t afford it” into a real plan

If you want this to move from idea to reality, do this over the next seven days. No drama, no big declarations.

Day 1
Calculate your real monthly burn rate from the last three months. Not your budget, your burn. Include the ugly stuff.

Day 2
List every U.S. cost you would keep paying if you left tomorrow. Mortgage, storage, subscriptions, insurance, memberships, anything. This is your “two lives” number.

Day 3
Pick one target country and two target cities. Not five countries. Two cities. A capital and a second-tier option. Options beat fantasies.

Day 4
Do a basic rent reality check using square meter math, then listings. Write down a rent ceiling you will not cross, and mean it.

Day 5
Build a landing-year monthly estimate with a buffer. Include a line for bureaucracy and friction. If your budget has no friction line, it’s not a budget.

Day 6
Price the one-time setup costs. Deposits, temporary housing, flights, basics. Then add a mistake cushion. This is where your runway becomes clear.

Day 7
Decide what kind of move this is. A 3-month test, a 6-month transition, a one-year landing, or a full relocation plan. Then choose the first action that reduces uncertainty, not the first action that feels exciting.

This week isn’t about committing. It’s about replacing fear math with real math.

Once you see the numbers, you can make an adult choice instead of an anxious one.

The choice you’re avoiding when you say “someday”

Here’s the part nobody loves hearing.

Most Americans who say “I can’t afford to move abroad” are actually saying one of these:

• I can’t afford to risk being uncomfortable for a year
• I can’t afford to lose the status and convenience I’m used to
• I can’t afford uncertainty
• I can’t afford to disappoint my own fantasy

Those are real constraints. They’re not shameful. But they are not purely financial.

The financial reality is this: plenty of people can afford to move abroad if they stop trying to do it in the most expensive way possible, in the most expensive city possible, while keeping the U.S. cost structure alive in the background.

You don’t need a perfect plan. You need a runway, a realistic housing ceiling, and a willingness to treat the first year like a transition year, not a permanent lifestyle reveal.

You can keep waiting for the perfect moment, and the costs at home will keep rising in the categories that hurt the most.

Or you can run the numbers honestly, build a staged plan, and accept the trade that makes the move possible: less certainty now, more options later.

That’s the real decision.