I knew that 2023 was going to be transformative. This was the year I’d finally be living overseas on my own after a three year delay thanks to COVID. Whilst this move scares the crap out of me, it thrills me an equal amount. My reply to people when they ask about this plan is usually “well there has to be some benefit to no man loving you or not having children”. My reply to most things in life often come with a side of humour, I’m sure a psychologist would say there’s some trauma related reason that needs exploring. Intertwined with their enthusiasm of my upcoming adventure is usually a bit of jealousy that I have the freedom to go ahead with this plan. Our society attaches so much worth to finding your other half and starting a family but for some of us it doesn’t seem God’s will to grant us one, let alone both of those Holy Grails. There has to be some perk to not owning a house, moving back home at 39 to save for said trip and not owning many large possessions apart from a car. Some may say it sounds like I am aiming for the homeless aesthetic, I choose to think my situation correlates more towards minimalism. I probably shouldn't admit this, but for me, I'm glad I'm not in a relationship, it would completely disrupt my plans. I like my own company, I know who I am and a man would have to be pretty special to complement this unique girl.

My adventure is not because I’m a sad spinster, but actually a once in a lifetime opportunity for self discovery and to connect with my core as I have always felt more Italian/European than Australian. The biggest reason for this trip is that for some time I’ve felt I lacked a reason for the daily grind. With no inspiration I had become aware that I was feeling too comfortable and had no passion or purpose anymore. Having always put too much focus on work, 2023 was the year for ‘doing the shit that scares you’.

The countdown as of today is 147 days. The time until departure is flying by (no pun intended) and I am beginning to feel the pressure to be ready for this change. The main concern that occupies my thoughts daily is whether I will find work and housing when the first month is over because that is all I have planned. The first 31 days. As much as I am trying to take the old ‘trust the Universe’ approach, am manifesting the shit out of my future life in Italy and meditating on it to calm the f&*# down, the panic is there, deep in the belly bubbling away underneath the surface. I’ve Googled so much of what to do when I arrive to register my residency but there doesn’t seem to be much information about the realities of landing in the country as a dual citizen for the first time. The consulate here in Brisbane’s instruction is to just go to the local council and register - that’s it, no further explanation on what is required, what paperwork needs to be shown, niente, nothing.

For the first month I’m living in a Hotel so I don’t have a permanent address of which to notify. I can’t open a bank account until I have a place of residence, and I can’t rent an apartment without an Italian bank account - frustrating is a word that is more polite than the one I want to use. I have seen that this registration has to be done within 7 days of arrival, then another website says 20 days. The bureaucracy that comes with the reality of relocation is overwhelming, but also that is Italy and from what I’ve read nothing seems to be easy in that respect. I guess if I didn’t want it bad enough I would fall over at the first hurdle.

I remember back in 2019 when I first made this decision to give myself twelve months to live there, it was on the back of a holiday to the Motherland. Everyone says you see a new place with rose coloured glasses when you are in tourist mode, but for me, I’d never felt more home. It’s a feeling that can’t quite be explained to honour the extreme emotion felt when it happens. It’s an unknown attachment to surroundings, language, culture - it feels almost like you’ve been there before and a sense of belonging. Despite the panic I am feeling over the above, I have blind faith that it will all be fine, andrà tutto bene.

I didn’t approach this year with any goal apart from getting on that plane in October. I find goal setting a bit wanky and for me, they are more of a deterrent than a motivator. However, in retrospect I have over the past year ticked of some personal growth ‘goals’ that I set for myself many years ago. Perhaps goal setting does work, 9 years later is better than never, right?

I know that despite the sadness that will follow when I hug, kiss and wave goodbye to my family and friends in October I have the fortitude to embark on this adventure. I have been warned that the first 6 months alone in another country will be hard, I have no doubt about that, but I know it will be rewarding. Perhaps that is what true transformation is about, knowing the potential hardship you will face and choosing to press on regardless. My transformation comes when blind faith meets personal growth. 147 days to go, and counting.

The vision board I created last year for my life moving forward.