Today, I turned 41. I don’t feel how I imagined 41 would feel - well, except for those moments when I sit on the floor and struggle to get up or climb a flight of stairs. But saying a proper goodbye to my 30s has been one of those pivotal moments where I’ve paused to take stock of where I’ve been, where I’m going, and what truly matters for the next chapter of my life (if I’m blessed with 80+ years). 

For me, 40 was a year of figuring out what I want my life to look like and how to make that happen - a year that was anything but predictable. While it often felt like I was living in stagnant waters, it was also a year of clarification and rejuvenation.   Coming back to Australia in February 2024, much earlier than planned, was tough. It felt like a failure, as though I lacked the qualities needed to live the life I’d dreamed of. It was as if my hopes and dreams had kicked me squarely in the gut. There were days when I felt resentful, disappointed, and stuck in a cycle of self-doubt. However, time has a way of offering new perspectives.

What I once saw as failure turned out to be exactly what I needed. It led me back to where I truly belonged at that moment. That “failure” allowed me to support my family during my father’s health struggles. It gave me the gift of living with my parents daily - a treasure I will cherish for the rest of my life when they eventually ascend heavenward.   

My so-called failure also revealed that my dream isn’t just a whimsical notion; it’s my soul’s truest desire. It showed me that when the rose-coloured glasses come off and you still want something, it’s worth pursuing. Life doesn’t always go to plan. You’ll hit rock bottom, you’ll feel despair and desperation, but you’ll overcome it. And when the storm passes, you’ll look back with pride at how far you’ve come. 

The year of 40 has given me clarity. It forced me to confront what I truly want and how much I’m willing to fight for it. I’ve learned it’s okay to pause and regroup. Life doesn’t always unfold as expected, but that doesn’t mean the dream is over. Life is a series of interruptions, and it’s how we pivot that matters. 

Over the past year, I’ve started focusing on what makes me happy. Whether that’s doing absolutely nothing, writing lists of qualities I seek in a future partner, setting a bucket list, or creating vision boards - it’s all valid. Writing, especially, has risen to the top of my priorities. It’s something I’ve always loved, but now it’s become an outlet for everything I feel and want to say. It’s helped me sort through the clutter in my head. My journal has grown, filled with the purge of my thoughts. Yet, I hesitate to share them. I freeze, fearing criticism and exposing too much. I worry about repeating stories that, for years, have centred on learning how to navigate life and grow. I want to continue my book and develop my blog, but I get too caught up in striving for perfection to trust myself to start. 

Still, when I do share authentic thoughts, they resonate with people. It’s a reminder that no one is alone, and there’s a community that understands. We’re inundated with so much misinformation and unrealistic imagery that we forget no one is perfect. Sharing our journeys and struggles connects us. These are the stories I love to read because they make me feel seen. 

Failure isn’t something to fear - it’s the gateway to growth. When I returned from Italy, I convinced myself I wasn’t capable of making big changes. But now, I see it’s not about being perfect or getting it right the first time. It’s about showing up for yourself, even when things go off course. 

This coming year is about overcoming my fear of failure - not just in writing, but in every area of life that holds me back. My kinesiologist is helping me let go of this fear, and while it’s a work in progress, I can feel the shift happening. Building tolerance for discomfort takes effort. Looking back over the last decade, I see how fear has crept into my life. It coincided with a breakup and feelings of betrayal, leaving me hesitant to trust - even myself. Trust takes time to rebuild, but I’m determined to get there. 

Redefining my future has been an interesting process. For a long time, I believed my goals had to fit into a neat box of societal expectations: get married, have a family, live conventionally. Now, at 41, I see my future differently. I’m focused on building a life that feels right for me, wherever I am. That means prioritising hobbies, connecting with inspiring people, and letting go of anything inauthentic. 

I’ve got a vision for my life, and I’m finally starting to believe I can make it happen. Italy isn’t just a far-off dream anymore - it’s a plan with actionable steps. It may take longer than I’d like, but I’ll get there. And through it all, I’ll always have a home here in Australia. 

Turning 41 doesn’t feel like aging, it feels like clarity. I’m more focused, more willing to take risks, and more determined to create the life I want. It’s not about having it all figured out; it’s about embracing the process. And for the first time in a while, that feels pretty good.

If I could go back and speak to my 20 year old self, I’d offer this advice:

Stay patient and keep moving forward

Big changes don’t happen overnight, but every small step matters

Make time for what you love, even when life feels overwhelming

Trust that setbacks aren’t failures, they’re part of the process

Celebrate every win, no matter how small

Stay curious, stay true to yourself, and live boldly - even when it’s scary

You’re capable of more than you think

Give yourself room to grow and breathe

Your path will often feel uncertain, but it shimmers with promise when you realise you can live life on your terms, not anyone else’s. 

Happy 41st Birthday To Me.