Building a 'Move Abroad' Fund When You're Broke AF

Real talk, no shame, from someone who’s done it (more than once).

I'm writing this sitting cross-legged on the tree stump outside my daughter's horse camp day.

Lunch today? A sad, half-squished pretzel from this morning and the apple slices my daughter didn't finish.

My laptop is balanced on my knees, hotspot blinking at 12% battery, silently begging me to hurry.

This isn't the polished, beige Pinterest moment you picture when you think, "Maybe I'll move abroad."

It's real life.

Messy, loud, and painfully normal.

And honestly? That's exactly why I'm writing this.

Because if you're here, reading this, you're probably not googling "move abroad when you're broke" from a kitchen table stacked with overdue bills and half-done homework.

You're the one who wants out so badly it aches, but whose bank account feels like it keeps saying, "lol, good luck with that."

And friend, I get it.

I've been there.

Three international moves in eleven years.

All without a trust fund, an inheritance, or savings account with more than $2,000.

All while trying to pay of student loans, covering daycare, and occasionally surviving on my kid's lunch leftovers.

So let's cut the crap and talk about how you really build an Escape Fund when you can barely cover rent.

No tidy listicle.
No influencer nonsense.
Just what it actually feels like, and what it actually takes, to start saving your way out of stuck.

Why an Escape Fund even matters

Let's get something straight right now:

Your 'Escape Fund' isn't about some curated, "soft life" abroad.

It isn't about becoming That Expat with linen dresses and an aesthetic apartment in Lisbon.

It's about survival.
About building the possibility of leaving a life that feels like it's swallowing you whole.
About having something - anything - in your back pocket that says:

"if it all goes to hell, I have options"

That's power.

Even if it's just a few hundred bucks scraped together in fits and starts.

But, let's talk about the shame first, shall we?

Because the shame is the heaviest part.

😕 Shame that you don't have more savings at your age.
😕 Shame that you're still renting (or can barely afford your mortgage).
😕 Shame that you're 'retirement plan' is mostly 'die before you retire'
😕 Shame that you even want to leave.

Here's the truth that took me way (way, way) too long to admit:

You're not broke because you're bad with money.
You're broke because the system is built to keep you there.

You can't budget your way out of stagnant wages and skyrocketing living costs.

But you can hack your way into a little financial breathing room.
And sometimes, that's enough to open the door.

What building an Escape Fund actually looks like (from the inside)

Here's what it didn't look like for me:
🙂‍↔️ Selling everything and living out of a backpack
🙂‍↔️ Cutting out all coffee and joy.
🙂‍↔️ Suddenly manifesting $20K because I journaled by candlelight.

Here's what it could look like:

💰 Opening a separate savings account at 11:30PM, naming it "F*ck this Sh*t".
💰 Transferring $5 on Fridays. Sometimes just $0.50
💰 Selling that bookshelf I secretly hated because it wasn't the right color.
💰 Canceling a streaming service I barely used (looking at you, Amazon Prime)
💰 Throwing every random $10 refund or unexpected side gig payment straight into that account.
💰 Watching it creep from $18 ... to $74... to $300 ... to 'holy shit, I have enough to pay for the shots my cats need.'

Most weeks, it'll feel ridiculous.

Like a toddler trying trying to build a raft with popsicle sticks in a hurricane.

But every time you see that number go up ... even by a few dollars ... you remember: You are not powerless.

That's what the Escape Fund truly is.

Not money.

Hope, in numerical form.

Yes, even when you're barely making it.

“But Mistelle, I can’t even pay all my bills. How can I save anything?”

Listen.
I know what it feels like to open your bank app and wonder which bill you’ll float this month.

So here’s the deal:
Your Escape Fund isn’t about putting away $200 a month.
It’s about putting away something.

Even $1 is infinitely more than zero.
Even the act of creating the account tells your brain:

“Leaving isn’t just a fantasy. I’m actually planning for it.”

Momentum beats perfection every single time.

... And yes, you'll feel silly sometimes

I remember transferring $2 once and thinking:

“Wow, congrats genius, now you can afford… literally nothing.”

But then you keep going.
And a few months later, you'll have enough to cover the consulate fee.
Then the flight.
Then the first month’s rent.

None of it feels big at the time.
But it'll get big because you keep moving.

The loudest critics will be the people who never left.

You know who makes Escape Funds feel “irresponsible”?

People who never planned to leave.
The ones who say:

• “Why would you leave everything behind?”

• “You should pay off debt first.”

• “That’s not realistic. Be grateful for what you have.”

They mean well.
But they’ve never sat awake at night googling how to get your kid the hell out of here if it all goes sideways.

So tell them what I did:

“You’re right. Thanks for caring.”
And keep saving anyway.

Your dream isn’t theirs to understand.
It’s yours to protect.

My numbers (so you know I’m not bullshitting you)

First move abroad?
~$1,500 saved over 12 months.
Not enough for a year off in Bali, but enough to prove funds, pay fees, and get my foot out the door.
(Note: we had support for relocation services from my husband's company, and we only had 2.5 months notice before we moved. We were actually saving for something else and used the money as our rental deposit and first month's expenses until our paychecks came in.)

Second move?
Around $3,000 saved over nine months.
A mix of selling furniture, cutbacks, and small auto-transfers.

Third move?
A few thousand scraped together, plus selling half my apartment’s contents because I realized I didn’t actually want to drag an IKEA wardrobe across borders.

Not influencer money.
Not perfect.
Enough.

What this buys you isn’t luxury—it’s choice

An Escape Fund might never buy you the fantasy villa.
But it might:
✅ Cover visa paperwork so you can legally stay.
✅ Pay a deposit so you’re not couchsurfing with your kid.
✅ Buy a plane ticket before your mental health breaks completely.

It buys agency.
And that is priceless.

You don’t have to do it all at once

That’s the lie we’re sold.
That you need the perfect plan, perfect timing, perfect savings.

You don’t.
You need:

• A separate account

• A tiny amount, regularly

• The guts to keep going when it feels laughably small

The rest, you figure out along the way.

And yes, it’s going to be messy as hell

You’ll forget to transfer some weeks.
You’ll get hit with an unexpected bill and dip into it.
You’ll hate yourself for it.

Then you’ll start again.

Because this isn’t about being perfect.
It’s about refusing to accept stuck as the final answer.

If you take nothing else from this messy blog:

Open the account.
Name it something that makes you smile.
Transfer literally anything.
Keep going.

That’s it.

One last thing (for the skeptics in your head)

You’re going to have days where you look at your Escape Fund and think:

“This is pointless. It’ll never be enough.”

But then a day comes when a visa opens, or a cheap flight drops, or your job finally says “yes” to remote—
and you don’t have to say “no” because your bank balance says so.

That’s what you’re really buying:
Not a guarantee.
A chance.

Final messy words from the horse farm

Right now, my hotspot’s at 5%.
My kid’s almost done with class.
My half-eaten pretzel is staring at me, judging.

But my Escape Fund? It’s still there.
Not big. Not flashy.
But it’s a living, breathing “maybe.”
A soft place to land if everything else burns.

And that’s enough.

So start yours.
Start today.
Start broke.
Start tired.
Start anyway.

P.S.

If you need somewhere to begin, I made a guide:
📥 10 Ways to Save Thousands on Your Move Abroad
Real tips, no shame, no trust fund required.
Grab it here

Because moving abroad shouldn’t feel impossible.
And your bank account shouldn’t get the final word.