Dear Diary #36

How five years in Finland unraveled my career

Aug 04, 2026

∙ Paid

6-minute read diary-entry 👁️🌸

Hi, I’m Tass. I write about the delicious chaos that life is—today, I’m talking about my first five years in Finland. No sugarcoating, privileges and mistakes noticed, and the most honest I could bring. Share this post with your friends.

Autumn, 2021— a few months after arriving in Helsinki. I had just dyed my hair from golden red to dark brown and was feeling a lot like myself.

I told myself I’d only come here if it were forever. As I’d never lived in a city for more than eight years, forever meant ten. It’s been five now, halfway to forever.

So far, life in Finland has been both a gift and an ordeal. My move coincided with a career burnout that had been years in the making, and this city inspired me to embark on a journey around my own curiosity.

Not only did my body go naked in the sauna.
My soul had to undress, too.

My first five years in Finland weren’t only for creating a new life in a new land. Besides learning the language, the culture, the city, and the people, I dove into a deep self-discovery well. People say you learn a lot when you move to a new country, but no one mentions what you need to unlearn if your role doesn’t come with clear instructions.

I came to a tiny country where the extreme weather can literally freeze you to death. Luckily, they have services to guarantee it will never happen. It’s incredibly safe. People trust each other (!). It’s the happiest in the world, but also has the highest unemployment rate in Europe. Finland’s water is the best on the planet. Spring is always late—but so marvelous when it blooms. Summer isn’t warm enough, but divine: so bright it obfuscates my eyes. Autumn is rich and colorful, then melancholic gray. And the winter is bright white, calm and silent. Helsinki is small, creative, and overpriced like any other Nordic country. The relationship I have with public transportation is probably the most reliable I’ve ever had. There are forests all over the city, and lakes reachable by public transportation. And, again, it’s safe to walk around.

July 10, 2021—the summer sun wrapped around me with the certainty that any dream was possible. I credit Punavuori, Eiranranta, and Ullanlinna—the design district area—for the impression that I could become whatever I want. It felt possible to choose a creative life unapologetically. Being surrounded by artists, designers, small independent businesses, and learning how supportive the Finnish government is gave me a more hopeful view of the future. Earning a living didn't seem like a struggle, and a distant dream hit me: living from writing suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched.

who knows, maybe one day

I have to admit it was easier to feel optimistic back then. The market was booming, recruiters kept reaching out with well-paid remote jobs, and I had everything: experience, qualifications, and a strong network. Only problem: the career itself didn’t seem interesting anymore. As much as I loved the paycheck, I wasn’t interested in what I was doing eight hours a day.

so I quit

I decided to give myself a six-month sabbatical to see what Helsinki and Finland had to show me. I explored the city as a tourist, and traveled a bit by myself: to Rovaniemi, then to Tallinn. For the very first time in my life, I was just being, experimenting, going to museums, writing, reading, trying new restaurants. What a life.

When those six months were over, reality caught up with me, and I took another remote role. This time, the excitement wore off even faster. Before I’d been there a year, a friend offered me a freelance project, and it gave me the push I needed to quit. My brain felt completely fried, so on a Wednesday I booked a cabin by a lake in Muurame and resigned with the most ridiculous excuse I could think of.

**Photos:** The lake where I skinny-dipped for the first time. Me wearing a sauna hat before I knew it was a sauna hat. The room where I resigned from my last full-time job

How would I afford my Pinterest life when the career I'd sacrificed so much to build was falling apart? Meanwhile, Secret Club had already become a thriving little community, but it wasn't a business yet.

Afraid to lose everything I knew as safe, I grabbed the freelance gig excitement and convinced myself I had found the answer. That’s how I joined my first entrepreneurship program to learn how to handle it in Finland.

I’m so grateful for all the Helsinki City help. They offer excellent quality consulting and programs for free.

Unfortunately, instead of focusing on freelancing, my old self, ~~or my Virgo South Node~~, stumbled into the wrong wormhole: startups. It feels stupid to admit, but I honestly think my brain only trusted tech companies and startups to make enough for a living—and that’s how I went from burning out from working at startups to wasting my time in programs that lead people to build one.

I didn’t work, of course. I crashed 🙃

Last time I went to the hospital with life-threatening symptoms and got my panic disorder diagnosis.

Public healthcare got me. They were the first to notice how many times I'd gone to the hospital convinced something was wrong with my heart. My heart was fine. My brain was panicking. As I shed my shattered old shell, it settled into my bones: earning a living is hard in a life none of us asked for. Shouldn't living come included with being born?

At least the Finnish welfare system comes closer than anything I've experienced. Things are changing, I know, but that’s another story.

I spent so much time surviving that I barely noticed Helsinki. That’s what mostly excites me for the next five years. I want to enjoy things I only tried a couple of times. Picking strawberries and mushrooms as a resident, not as a stranger. Biking around the city. Exploring all the beaches before they're covered in snow again.

For now, I already have my favorite lake in the city.

Next time, I won't leap farther than my emotional joints can support. Until then, I'm building the emotional strength to hold the life I'm writing toward.