Restarting my life in Finland

After over a month in Brazil

Oh, hi. It’s me, Tass. This newsletter is an invitation for an unhinged conversation, the kind we could have over brunch or a glass of wine. I’m serious, we meet in real life, too:

I tell my friends that living in Helsinki matches my personality. As it’s a cool thing. Deep inside, I’m trying to convince myself that the weirdest decision I ever made for love was a good one. I came to this country entirely for love—accidentally(?), my career and finances melted away. I can’t blame Helsinki, though. There’s no guarantee I wouldn’t have gone through a similar burnout journey if I had stayed in São Paulo. Maybe it'd been worse. You never know, babe.

I was no queen in the tropics, but I had (until 2019) a pretty charming life, not only on paper, but I actually enjoyed most of it. Maybe working too much, but also seeing my career moving forward; spending a lot of money, yes, but having a lot of fun. Broke up with a toxic ex and was enjoying my sisterhood like never before. It created a clear level bar for my Finnish chapter, and I wouldn’t accept anything less.

After staying in Brazil for over a month, an odd feeling got me:

I feel like restarting my journey in Finland and doing things differently.

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Sometimes I list what I would do differently if I started over. Now, I gave myself a restarting voucher, and this is my reboot manifesto —

After five years, I’m restarting from the very beginning. Or from the very beginning, possible. Or maybe I just came back from Brazil, craving a glow up to recreate that delicious Brazilian version of me.

Send help (!) — because getting help, and learning how to let people help me, is urgent. I thought moving countries would be a life upgrade, and that asking for help would mean admitting I wasn’t thriving, a flaw in the biggest decision I ever made. The one I could never question or regret. Admitting I need help felt almost like an insult. I’d feel defeated. I came from São Paulo. C’mon! Helsinki is a piece of cake.

I was arrogant enough to blame my capabilities, and foolish enough to believe I could handle it. Little did I know I was facing an unfamiliar system with different rules and paths. I couldn’t simply hack my way through it. Culture came across as rudeness many times, and I gave up learning Finnish because these people don’t deserve my effort. Not asking for help and not admitting I needed help left me confused, sad, and cynical, which eventually triggered dormant mental issues.

From now on, I will be the kid in the room: broken language and all the questions. If someone says I should know something by now, I’ll simply tell them I didn’t learn because I pretended I knew it already. It’s true. We’ll laugh, because it’s kind of funny, and I love replacing embarrassment with good laughter. For the next weird interaction, I promise myself I will speak out about my feelings. This type of awkwardness avoids overthinking later. Totally worth it.

The hardest part

Instead of holding onto my previous life expectations, I’ll jump headfirst and delight in the new. My restarting voucher doesn’t take regrets, and requires reinventing skills. I won’t go fully auditing my life, but I can list topics in which I’m settling for fine instead of aiming for what I want.

This is hard to admit. Damn. It all loops back to the help thing. Okay, no sugarcoating: I’m not satisfied with my bank account. My social life feels scattered. And I hate how long I sit on decisions when I’m afraid they’ll hurt people or make them leave. How can I get help for these things?

My first thought is: I’ll wait until Wednesday, my next therapy session. But she cannot fix my entire life, unfortunately. I need other resources. Maybe a friend of a friend, if I ever gather the courage to ask someone, “Hey, I’m trying to understand how to actually make money as an independent writer. Could I talk this through with you?“. An expensive coach would be easier because it cuts down the shame. I know there’s no shame in asking for help, but it squeezes my stomach, a wrong feeling I need to unpack to glow up.

I probably need to evaluate the energy I invest in my social life and focus more intentionally — bringing closer the people whose vibes align with mine, rather than just spending time with everyone for fun. I need to stop spreading myself too thin across many groups and create space for friendships where I feel grounded, supported, and comfortable asking for help.

Maybe living in Helsinki does match my personality after all.

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Inspired by Kaya Nova I’m also listing

What kind of help I’m calling into my life

At the beginning of this year, I went all-in on my dream of becoming an independent writer. A decision that scared the shit out of me, but also made me feel over the moon. I was encouraged by the support from Secret Club members, but also nervous about what people would think, knowing many expect me to constantly produce one event after another.

That’s why, as a writer for Secret Club, I’m ready to connect with readers who will engage with my essays, share them, and help shape this space into a creative sisterhood for women outgrowing their lives and plotting against patriarchy. Writing alone is powerful, but conversations make it richer.

As an independent writer, I’m calling in help to deepen my practice, explore stories that matter, blast my words into the world, and claim every space they deserve. One day soon, you’ll see me in The Cut, Vogue, Glamour, and every major outlet that matters. Just watch me.

And as a human, I’m opening myself to friendships with people with multiple interests and hobbies who love to build meaningful things. I’m inviting help to find more reasons to expand into a slow, intentional creative life on my own terms.

Let me know what kind of help you’re welcoming too. Maybe I could be useful.

Wow. It feels good, to be honest.

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