39 And Not Thriving

Approaching my 40th birthday feels like a plot twist I didn't see coming.  Take a closer look, especially around my eyes – the evidence of this impending milestone is right there. These significant birthdays have a knack for triggering reflective pondering, and unsurprisingly, I find myself deep in that contemplative state, much like when I reached 25 and realised my envisioned life of marital bliss and offspring was nowhere in sight.

So, what's got me overthinking on the brink of this birthday?  Well, a lot. If you've scrolled through my past posts or my Instagram, you'd know that in October 2023, I packed my bags and moved to Italy.  The dreamy comments came pouring in – "How lucky," "I'd love to do that but I could never," "It'll be so fun, you can eat pizza and pasta every day, I'm so jealous!"  Yes, it's been filled with beauty, but since my touchdown in October 2023, it's been an anxiety-ridden rollercoaster.  Worry and uncertainty have taken residence in my personality, and every day is a conscious effort to convince myself that everything will work out, or worst-case scenario, I can hop on a plane back to Australia.  In the grand scheme of global issues, my Italian saga is pretty minuscule.

The culprit behind my anxiety?  The unspoken belief that by 40, we "should" have life figured out.  I put "should" in inverted commas because who handed us this expectation?  While our parents and grandparents settled down earlier, our generation is rewriting the script.  It's not uncommon to be single, childless, and juggle multiple careers by 40.  Yet, despite embodying these traits, I can't shake the feeling that I've fallen short of life goals.

An article by Georgette Jupe aka Girl In Florence recently caught my eye, and for the first time, I felt a sense of solidarity in not having it all together.  Logic tells me it's okay, but the constant barrage of social media perfection makes it hard to silence the inadequacy.  Georgette shared her uncertainties about her professional path and life goals, a narrative I resonate with deeply.  Currently, I'm directionless and careerless (yes, I might have just coined a word).

Five or six years ago, pre-COVID, I had a clear vision for my life.  Fast forward to now, ask me where I see myself, and you'll be met with a blank stare and a face contorted in panic.  Pre-COVID, I was devoted to my career in Hotels and Tourism, managing an 81-room hotel.  I was good at it, I loved it, and I was on the path to becoming a hotel spinster. However, COVID threw a wrench into my plans, leading to a borderline nervous breakdown.  In December 2020, I bid farewell to that career.  The stress and lack of work-life balance drained every ounce of dedication from me.  Though my passion for hotels and tourism persists, the confidence to re-enter that world in the same capacity eludes me.  Stress now manifests itself through my tear ducts.

As for where my life is headed, it's a blank canvas.  Living in another culture for more than just a tourist visit is a peculiar experience.  I've quickly assimilated into daily life in some aspects, while others leave me annoyed daily.  The bureaucratic quirks and rubbish removal practices baffle me, and I find myself questioning the "whys" every day.

Before my Italian escapade, the plan was to establish myself in Florence, explore my Nonni's birthplaces – Padova & Treviso, and create a twelve-month home base.  Yet, three months in, securing an apartment has become a quest, and without that anchor, my anxiety surges.  Having a home is crucial for my happiness.  It's the foundation for stability, the space to unpack my suitcase, frame photos, and buy clothes without the looming threat of repacking for a sudden return to Australia.

Then there's the topic of marriage or a significant relationship by 40.  I've always believed a relationship is not luck but a conscious effort to commit, requiring shared values and interests.  Single for nine years, I've observed relationships and held out for someone who aligns with my perspective.  Perhaps I'm searching for a needle in a haystack, but hey, I'm not actively looking for that needle and there are no haystacks to search.  Spending time alone has revealed who I am, and if Mr. Right comes my way, he's getting the authentic me, no surprises, unfiltered and true.

Another point Georgette raised which resonates with me is “It’s hard to see what you have already achieved in the present moment because you are so focused on what you have not yet achieved.”  Taking a moment to look back on the woman who landed in Rome in 2023, I'm proud.  Navigating northern Italy, Switzerland, and France on public transport (a skill I never honed in Australia), making unexpected connections, embracing vulnerability – it's all part of the journey.  Despite the tears, tribulations, and uncertainty, there's a chance it might be worth it in the end.

The people I've befriended so far share two remarkable traits – unwavering determination and an adventurous spirit.  Envy creeps in as I marvel at their tenacity, hoping it rubs off on me over time. It's a reminder that I've only been here for three months, a sign of how hard I am on myself to "do things right" quickly. While I yearn for everything to seamlessly fall into place at this moment, the Italians wisely advise, "piano piano" — slowly, slowly. They embody the belief that things will align when needed, not necessarily when desired. This concept doesn't harmonise with my organised, anxious mindset. What's the plan moving forward? For three months focus has been on finding a home and work as the Australian conversion rate takes a hefty toll on my savings.  I recently interviewed for a job as a pasta class instructor, perfectly aligned with my interests.  While waiting to hear back, I'm diversifying my applications.  Despite not seeing myself as the career woman I once envisioned, I need to love my job.  

Observing the Italian approach to work-life balance is enlightening.  They work to live, not live to work, and this shift in perspective resonates with my Mediterranean-infused thinking.  Of course, there are quirks, like midday shop closures for a lengthy lunch break. Yet, witnessing men in business suits enjoying a proper lunch and a glass of wine at a trattoria at 12:30pm is a testament to the importance of breaks.  It's a delicate dance, and the flip side might impact the economy, but the value of taking time for oneself is undeniable.

As I step into my forties, the plan is to be gentler on myself, let things unfold organically, and shed the societal expectations thrust upon women.  I want to wholeheartedly embrace living outside Australia, savouring the familiar and unfamiliar aspects of this new culture.  I aim to be perpetually amazed by the architectural and artistic beauty surrounding everyday life (minus the dog poop and rubbish).  My commitment is to continue evolving, learning, and staying adaptable. Piano piano, slowly slowly.  Breaking free from societal norms and embracing what I truly want is a challenging boundary to push. By the time I edge towards the next milestone birthday at 50 (gulp), I hope to look back and be completely okay with how the preceding ten years unfolded.  Spero (I hope).  Tutto sarà va bene (All will be fine).  The journey ahead? A symphony of uncertainty, discovery and acceptance.

Photos: A tiny glimpse into this week. A week of slowness and melancholy.