2024: Between Two Worlds

This year has been a whirlwind of unexpected turns, profound emotions, and deep reflection. I began 2024 with a vivid dream that felt so close, so attainable, I could almost hold it in my hands. Living in Italy was my plan, a beacon for the next chapter of my life, the future self I longed to become. The four months I spent in Florence were everything I had imagined: breathtaking architecture, world renowned art, divine food, and a culture that felt like home. I formed friendships I know will endure a lifetime. But amidst the beauty, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, a daily struggle to find work and a stable place to live. 

As I wrestled with the question, “Should I stay or should I go?” the answer revealed itself with startling clarity. Life had other plans. In February, a family emergency called me back to Australia, abruptly uprooting the vision I had so carefully cultivated. 

Returning home was more than a geographical shift; it was an emotional and mental upheaval. It felt surreal, like stepping into a parallel life I hadn’t prepared for. The emotional weight of leaving behind what I believed would be my new beginning has lingered. Regret, sadness, and resentment became uninvited companions this year, shadowing my steps as I navigated a path I hadn’t intended to take. The dream of Italy remains vivid, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. Dwelling on the “what ifs” is tempting, but life has a way of pulling you into the present, especially when the health of loved ones demands your focus. 

This year has been defined by family, with poor health casting a heavy shadow over those closest to me. Watching people you care about struggle is an emotional toll that words struggle to convey. It reshapes everything - your priorities, your energy, your sense of self. My roles this year have been dictated by necessity, leaving me feeling untethered. I’m caught between wanting to be everything for my family and yearning to reclaim the sense of purpose I felt in Florence. 

Amidst this upheaval, I’ve returned to restaurant management - a chapter I thought was firmly closed. Yet, there’s a strange comfort in familiarity. Managing a team, fostering cohesion, and building something meaningful has been unexpectedly rewarding. The energy of hospitality - the buzz, the camaraderie, the shared purpose - is a reminder of why I once loved this industry. But it’s a double-edged sword. The demands of the job consume me, blurring boundaries and making life outside work feel like a distant echo. Balancing it all has been one of the year’s greatest challenges. 

2024 feels like a holding pattern. Time moves forward, yet I remain suspended. I’m here, doing what needs to be done, but the sense of direction I once cherished feels elusive. I try to remind myself that not every year is about leaping forward; some are for enduring, recalibrating, and quietly rebuilding. Still, patience has never been my strong suit. I yearn for clarity, for answers about what comes next. 

Rediscovering my “why” has been a recurring theme, an undercurrent that drives my search for meaning. Without Italy, I’ve struggled to redefine my purpose. While I’ve tried to focus on the present, on the people and responsibilities that need me now, the pull of the unknown future remains strong. Planning a return to Italy has been a beacon of hope. It keeps me moving forward, even when the path feels obscured. 

To those who have never felt an unexplainable connection to a place, it’s hard to articulate the grief of leaving it behind. Italy wasn’t just a dream; it was a place where I felt like my authentic self. To walk out the door each day and feel the freedom of anonymity, to be unshaped by the expectations of others - it was liberating. 

Regret has been a constant companion this year, ebbing and flowing in waves. Sometimes it’s a gentle ache; other times, it knocks me off my feet. I’ve regretted leaving Italy, regretted the choices that brought me to this point, and even regretted the things I didn’t do before the year began. But regret, while heavy, has also been a teacher. It’s forced me to confront truths about myself, to sit with discomfort, and to face feelings of failure and inadequacy. 

I’m learning that regret doesn’t have to define the narrative. It can illuminate what matters most, serving as a marker of our deepest values. I’m working to honour these feelings without letting them control me, to see them as part of the process of moving forward. 

Unexpected events, like the sudden illness of a loved one, force us to pause and reassess what truly matters. They strip away the trivial and bring family, time, and connection into sharp focus. These moments, while painful, remind us that life’s most valuable treasures are not achievements or possessions but the relationships and memories we create with those we love. 

This year has taught me lessons I didn’t know I needed. Life doesn’t follow the scripts we write, and when the unexpected happens, it’s easy to feel untethered. But rebuilding isn’t about erasing regret or pretending the pain isn’t real. It’s about finding strength in the pieces left behind and trusting that even in limbo, growth is happening beneath the surface. 

Planning my return to Italy is now a source of hope, not pain. It reminds me that dreams don’t have to be abandoned; they can evolve. This chapter in Australia wasn’t an end but a necessary detour. There’s power in letting go of rigid timelines and trusting that the pieces will come together when the time is right. 

For now, I take it one day at a time. Life in 2024 hasn’t been what I envisioned, but it has taught me resilience. Even when the ground shifts beneath my feet, I’m finding ways to stand again.