I asked Grok AI to write a “I moved abroad to Belgium” story in the style of Business Insider. The prompt featured a young woman in her 20s who works as a freelance writer and moved to Belgium.
After reading this, why does Business Insider need to hire ANY freelance writers anymore? This is literally every Business Insider “I moved abroad story”! This has me laughing out loud!
I Left the Stress of American Freelance Life for Belgium — and I’ve Never Looked Back
By Sophie Laurent (formerly Sophie Reynolds)
Three years ago, at 25, I was burning out in a cramped Brooklyn apartment, staring at my laptop screen until 2 a.m. chasing $0.12-per-word gigs while my rent ate up more than half my income. Health insurance? A joke that cost me $450 a month for mediocre coverage. The “hustle culture” everyone praised felt like a slow-motion panic attack. I was single, exhausted, and convinced that this was just “how it is” in the United States.
Then I did something radical: I left.
I’d visited Brussels on a whim during a cheap Ryanair trip in 2022 and fell in love with the city’s walkable streets, the smell of fresh waffles in every square, and the fact that people actually clock out at 5 p.m. without guilt. So in early 2023, with my savings, my laptop, and a one-way ticket, I moved. As a freelance writer, I could work anywhere — and I chose somewhere that didn’t feel like it was trying to kill me with stress.
The first few months were pure magic. I rented a sunny one-bedroom in Ixelles for €850 a month — less than half what I paid in Brooklyn for half the space. Groceries were cheaper, public transport flawless, and I could see a doctor the same week for €25 with basically no paperwork. No one asked me how many side hustles I had. People asked about my weekend plans instead.
But the real turning point came six months in, at a small book launch in a cozy café near the Grand Place. I met Julien — a 28-year-old graphic designer with a dry sense of humor and the kind of calm confidence I’d never encountered in the dating pool back home. He didn’t talk about his “grind” or equity packages. He talked about cycling to work, weekend hikes in the Ardennes, and how Belgian beer should be treated like wine.
We fell in love slowly and deliberately. Long dinners that lasted until midnight. Weekend trains to Bruges or Ghent just because. No pressure to “define the relationship” after three dates or to move in after six months to split rent. Just two people enjoying each other in a country that values balance.
A year later, we got married in a simple civil ceremony at the Brussels town hall. It wasn’t some Instagram fairy tale — it was better. Real. Grounded. And yes, it secured my residency. I now have my Belgian carte E, full access to the excellent healthcare system, and the freedom to stay as long as I want. The bureaucracy was surprisingly straightforward compared to what I’d heard about other countries.
Today, at 28, my life looks nothing like the one I escaped. I still freelance — mostly for European publications now, at better rates — but I work from our bright apartment with views of the city’s green spaces. I take real vacations. I’ve gained weight (happily) from all the moules-frites and speculoos. Julien and I host friends for long Sunday lunches that stretch into evening. We’re talking about buying a small house outside the city in a few years, something utterly unthinkable in the U.S. on our combined incomes.
I don’t hate America. I just don’t miss the constant anxiety, the medical debt fears, or the idea that your worth is measured by how many hours you can grind before you break. Belgium isn’t perfect — the weather can be gray, and the administration loves its forms — but it feels humane. People live here. They don’t just survive.
If you’re a young freelancer or remote worker drowning in the U.S., I’ll say what I wish someone had told me sooner: You can leave. The world is bigger, kinder, and far more affordable than the hustle narrative wants you to believe.
I did. And I’ve never been happier.