41: A Year In Review

As the sun goes down and the moon starts clocking in for the night shift on the last few moments of me being 41, I realise something that still feels a bit strange to say out loud: I’m the most content I’ve ever been in my life so far.

At 7:45am on 6 March I turn 42, so this is officially the final few hours of my “Year 41 review.”

For the first time in my life I sense a steady and quiet feeling of things being… right. A huge part of that comes down to one thing: I’m living in a country where I feel like my truest self.

Moving back to Italy has done something for my brain and my soul that I wished would happen, but didn’t fully expect to come into fruition. Apparently this is where my personality makes the most sense. I saw glimpses of this two years ago, and realise that not succeeding back then needed to happen for me to be where I am now.

Florence, in particular, has slowly become home. Not in a dramatic “Under the Tuscan Sun” montage kind of way (my FAVOURITE movie), but in a very normal, everyday-life kind of way. The kind where you slowly piece together a new language one slightly incorrect sentence at a time. Where you start weaving new customs into your routine. Where you figure out which bar makes the coffee you’re willing to be elbowed in the side for at 10am rush hour. And learning what time is best at your local supermarket to miss the Nonna rush - because Nonne are scary in supermarkets.

Somewhere along the way, between the language struggles, the small wins, and the daily obstacle course of mind the merde on the streets (dog poop to state the obvious), the city stopped feeling like somewhere I live and started feeling like somewhere I belong.

So what actually happened during the year that was 41?

This was the year I worked on trusting the process. Which sounds very wise and zen until you realise that “the process” often just looks like confusion with occasional breakthroughs.

It was also the year I tried to embrace the unknown a little more and not immediately spiral into overthinking when anxiety decided to pop by for a visit.

Did I succeed 100% of the time? Absolutely not. But if we’re keeping score (which I obviously am), I think I managed it about 92% of the time. Which feels like a pretty solid result in the very complicated sport of Being a Person. I’m hoping to raise that number to about 97% by this time next year. I have no scientific method for measuring this, but no doubt the reflective mood will strike again in 365 days, so I’ll let you know how that goes.

Looking back tonight, on the last evening of being 41, I realise this year - apart from relocating overseas - wasn’t about huge life-changing moments. It was more about small shifts. Getting more comfortable with uncertainty. Letting things unfold without trying to control every outcome. And realising that sometimes things actually do work out if you just keep going.

This year was about small steps to break the cycle of putting other people’s needs before my own. I say small steps because I haven’t mastered this skill yet and I am not sure I ever really will. Being of service is deeply engrained in my being and, to a large extent, people pleasing is tied to that. I am hoping it’s a habit that can be broken with time. If anyone has tips to change this habit, I welcome your email or DM.

The biggest blessing of 41? Having my Nonna move closer to home and precious time in her company. My Nonna is a small yet strong woman. She is the reason why I wanted to connect to her heritage and learn Italian, because as her brain fades into the disease of dementia she is forgetting English.

My Nonna has always been hardworking. When she was living on her own she would be forever in her beloved garden, pulling weeds out with her hands. It took until the age of 91 for her to colour in, try craft and slow down. The disease may be slowly taking her memory but her spirit and the essence of Nonna remains, for now. Whilst I wish I could teleport to give her a hug, seeing her face on the other end of a video call is just the best thing.

Tomorrow will be a little different. For the first time in a long time, I won’t be celebrating with family or those long-time friends who have been part of my birthday routine for years. I’ve never been a big “birthday festivities” person, but it still feels a bit strange knowing they’ll be far away this year.

And I will absolutely miss our very specific birthday tradition, a cake from the Cheesecake Shop. Whilst I tried to let this year’s birthday fly under the radar, I will not spend it alone. I am grateful for the friendships I have formed here and will enjoy lunch at a Florence institution. Traditions change when life moves across oceans. Some things stay the same, others evolve, and new routines slowly take their place.

So as this final day of 41 winds down and another lap around the sun begins tomorrow, I feel grateful. Grateful for the move, for the lessons, for the slow process of building a life that actually feels right. And also grateful that I’ve gotten very good at spotting dog poop from a distance. A truly underrated life skill in my city, and one I plan to carry confidently into 42.