New life, new body

 

Why I’m Returning to Writing at 44

When I first had the idea for this blog, I was a different woman. I was 29, full of plans and dreams, excited about moving back to my home country carrying what I believed were new layers of wisdom and experience. I felt more mature, more prepared, better equipped for life.

Looking back now, I can see I was a little naïve — but that realization came slowly.

I went through a heartbreak. I realized I didn’t have as much professional experience as I thought I did. Having earned a degree abroad and learned another language didn’t automatically place me on some higher level. I was simply another candidate in the job market, and I would have to start from the bottom, gain real experience, and build my way up. That was the first shock.

But I didn’t curl up and stay there.

I chose to see the end of that relationship as a blessing in disguise. I worked. I learned. I stayed humble. I changed jobs, climbed step by step, and eventually began to feel proud of where I was heading.

At the same time, I protected my heart. I started going out again. I felt beautiful. I thought, why not meet people, feel alive, enjoy this season? I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I know myself — when I fall, I fall deeply, and I tend to lose myself in the process. So I gave myself time.

Two years later, I met the man who is now my husband. It felt like love at first sight for both of us — a beautiful story, but maybe one for another post.

Today, I’ve been married for nine years. I have a four-year-old daughter, and motherhood has brought me back to a dream that once lived quietly in the background. Balancing a child, a career, and marriage has taken nearly all of me. For a few years, I put myself last. I lived on autopilot. I carried the weight silently. I cried in the dark, wondering if I would ever escape the emotional prison I had unknowingly built around myself.

But seasons change.

My daughter is growing. She’s more independent now. She goes to school, expresses herself clearly, and the days feel lighter — well… almost lighter.

My marriage isn’t perfect either. Routine leaves its marks. But it’s a daily commitment, a constant adjustment, and we keep choosing to work on it.

Right now, our family is preparing for another big transition: moving to a new country. And with that decision, I feel something awakening in me again — excitement, anxiety, new dreams, hope.

I don’t know exactly where this road will lead.

But I know I’m no longer afraid of starting over.

Something inside me is waking up again — the same spark I felt at 29, only steadier now. Softer. Wiser.

Life didn’t unfold the way I once imagined. It unfolded deeper. Harder. More real. And in that reality, I became stronger than I ever planned to be.

At 44, I’m not writing because I have everything figured out.
I’m writing because I’m still becoming.

Not to prove anything.
Not to impress anyone.
But to witness my own growth — and to honor the woman I’ve become.

So stay with me.

This isn’t just a move to another country.
It’s a transition of identity, of courage, of self.

And it’s only just beginning.

Lele