expat in milan – ⋆ Second Gen Desi ⋆

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My 2023 was a year that might as well have been three. Harrowing, exciting, relief, and sorrow—some things fell so perfectly into place, and others threw me for a rollercoaster-like loop.

Last year felt like a whirlwind and because of that, I never really had time to reflect or process events (good and bad) in a timely manner. But recently, my body and mind have forced me to slow things down and retreat within myself. Only now do I have the patience to pen these thoughts down, along with seeking therapy again with the hope of starting a new healing journey.

I am proud and grateful for all the things I have accomplished and gained in the last year, but I would be lying if I said everything was perfect. There are so many traumas from childhood to present-day that I have been able to cope with or quash in order to survive as a high-functioning and high-achieving misunderstood woman with depression, but I do want a fair chance to finally heal.

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A country somehow loved by many will unfortunately never be loved by me. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake away the trauma I endured (maybe one day, I did recover from an eating disorder and I never thought that would happen) and at the same time, I will never be silent or afraid to speak up about it.

I can go on and on about how my experience in Italy was so distressing (and I have through written and audio mediums, lol), but what currently stands out the most is how much it has dampened my ability to enjoy neighboring countries too.

Almost a year has passed since I left without a second glance, but even with the comforts of home softening the corners of memories that were once so sharp and rough, my recent trip to Portugal/Barcelona in December 2023 was an odd experience for me mentally. I still felt tired, and seeing things like buildings and words and church squares that reminded me of Italy (what one would expect amongst other Latin/Southern European regions) unintentionally opened up mental wounds that hadn’t quite healed yet. This seemed so bizarre, as I had just been to Porto earlier that year, praising that it had been “so different from Milan in all the best ways!”. What happened?

All of these current emotions can be due to a mix of things. There are my personal traumas from living in Italy, but I could also be culturally bored with having lived there for so long, and that influencing my experience in other parts of Europe I thought I would enjoy better. There are so many variables at play here, but I will never be Italy’s biggest fan, that’s for sure.

Sintra is my new favorite Portuguese town. While I wish that each moment of this trip had been filled with blissful cheer, feeling tired and triggered by environmental elements out of my control happened to sting wounds that have yet to completely close…

I can permanently straighten my hair, paint my nails, and pay for his round-trip ticket across the Atlantic, but that doesn’t mean he will love me again.

No one likes talking about a break-up, because it feels like the biggest form of failure—especially if you’re the one that didn’t want it to happen. But I always prioritize honesty, and we need to be more open about our experiences instead of holding it all in… which hurts even more.

There is one person I will always associate my time in Italy with. For a little over two years, he was “my rock” in Italy, and like most relationships, we had our good and bad.

Up until October 2022, I thought it had been mostly good? I felt like I was sacrificing a lot for him from my end, especially in regards to finding a better job in Italy when my toxic post-doc environment began to sand me down raw. At the same time, I thought these sacrifices were investments for a bright “happily ever after”…one would hope that’s how it would go, right?

One Thursday after an exhausting train ride home from work, I stopped at a local poke shop to pick up dinner and casually began my weeknight routine of lounging in bed until falling asleep to Real Housewives. However, I received a long text that rocked that night and beyond—essentially, he had fallen out of love with me.

It was the first time in years I “pulled an overnighter” though I’d rather it had been for work than a mental crisis. The first people I messaged were my sister and best friend, and soon after I was bawling to my dad, the few people in my support system who seemed a million time zones behind.

While I would never act on hurting myself, in all transparency, those thoughts did pass. 😔

From that night onwards until our “official” break-up almost 8 months later, anxiety, insecurity, sadness, low self-esteem, and dejection ate away at me, even if I could pretend everything was fine for those I needed to be fine for (people at work). I didn’t want to hyper-focus on his every move, online and off, but how could I feel calm when a bomb was just dropped on me? Being around him every time he opened his phone set my heart racing. I knew I had no control in this situation, but I was still figuring out my exit plan. In the meantime, I had to at least try to “win back” the love he once had for me…I had to troubleshoot, the one thing in my life I’ve never lacked motivation in.

I consider myself a practical person (hence, my fervent application submissions for jobs back home when I realized my personal life in Italy was looking dire), yet part of me also wanted things to magically fall back to how they once were.

But even when I had the greenlight of a decent job to return home to, and he agreed to visit me in my new city for a week—to give it one more chance—my gut told me this was it. Two days after he arrived, I couldn’t help but cry at least once every day until he left, because it was it.

It truly was an odd experiment looking back. Heck, it could have been part of a reality show on failing relationships (will a one-week getaway end with him saying, “yes, I’ll stay with you now”?). At least the relationship ended on my turf, but that didn’t mean the uncontrollable sobbing would automatically stop.

With time, the darkness my mind was clouded with slowly dissipated. Distractions (both desired and unnecessary) have helped me to move on the best I can, but that first relationship (when it fails) will always leave a scar.

I used to spend a lot of time here…now it truly does feel like a memory.

Things can be “good”, but if the underlying trauma hasn’t been processed, depression will rear its ugly head again.

Speaking of distractions, I dove headfirst into doing what I could to move onto the next (and hopefully happy) chapter. Fostering a cattle dog, attempting new creative pursuits like modeling and dance, finally landing my dream job (relevant to my education), attempting new relationships (both friendship and romantic), and living a comfortable life thanks to the financial perks of said dream job happened in a matter of months. Like I mentioned earlier, it was like living multiple lives in a matter of a year.

Yet even if good things happen, I still yearn to grow and achieve. If I put in the effort and I don’t see the pay-off, it’s hard to be happy with things as they are. Anger has given me a lot of power in the past few years. I’d even say it was my only way to survive for so long, which is difficult for most to relate to.

In moments when I’ve felt like no one is in my corner, I’ve retreated. Retreating isn’t failure—it means it is time to rest. The world can be cold and heartless a lot of the time, and we only have so much energy. It’s normal to want to be around people, but to also desire alone time.

Maybe it’s the recent freezing temperatures, but nothing sounds more exciting than staying in bed all day, focusing on restoring my energy versus how to please others.

I kicked off 2024 being as selfish as possible – looking out for my energy and not wasting time on people who can’t put in the same effort as I do, fostering a PUPPY, going on more spontaneous trips, even if I have to go solo and for “short” periods of time

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I like to give myself a word for each year. Normally I “feel” it going into the year, and for 2024, I feel “restoration” is my guiding word.

“Some common synonyms of restore are refresh, rejuvenate, renew, and renovate. While all these words mean “to make like new,” restore implies a return to an original state after depletion or loss.”

At 31 years old, I’m not sure what that original state really is. When I was 10? But I have a stronger urge to be selfish, in a way that I put myself first like never before. I think that’s the first step to restoration…

I see it manifesting as making spontaneous trips or doing activities I want to do without seeking permission or asking/thinking about others first. It’s leading the pack without worrying if there is a pack behind me. It’s preparing to be alone, but open to genuine company.

It’s no surprise that my body and mind want to slow down after a high intensity year. I need every morsel of energy I have (which is not a lot to begin with) to contribute to this restoration process.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in all this, the only person I can truly count on for a lifetime is me: I’ve got to give her all I’ve got if I am going to have anything left to give.

Reading Time: 5 minutes

I value having paid vacation. Days off for fill-in-the-blank leave. But like with anything else in this world, there has to be balance, and it has to make sense.

When I was in grade school, my school adopted a novel-for-that-era schedule. From 3^rd grade through 5^th grade (6^th grade I left for middle school), I was on a year-round schedule, meaning that the school was open year-round, but parents had the choice to put their kids in one out of four tracks.

We had red, yellow, green, and blue tracks, and their distinguishing factor was what months each track got off.

My parents were intrigued by blue track because the off months were perfect for traveling sans crowds. September? January? May? Sure, their kids would have to sit in class during the traditional dog days of summer, but at least they could plan a long trip to India in the off-season and save hundreds on our flights.

I personally wanted to be in red track, because naïve little me thought I could use third grade to win over Jainey’s friendship, even though she made it clear time and time again I could never fit in with her Filipino clique.

But I digress…

Looking back, I’m glad I got to have that unique experience. We had some really amazing family trips during our off months those years, and I think they might not have been so great if we had to battle summer crowds.

Also, going to school during the summer wasn’t *too* bad. My teachers were usually lax, and we got to do more activities outside, while cooling off with treats like popsicles and ice cream cups after a long, hot week—if my teachers thought we were deserving of it!

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I eventually got to experience my years of a real “American summer break” once I hit middle and high school, but family vacations were no longer the priority. They couldn’t be, since I was worrying about college and figuring out how to use my time wisely. Long story short, it really didn’t matter, and I do wish I hadn’t been so anxious about things out of my control at such a tender age…

Because I was so used to working through “traditional vacation time” (a lot of my high-achieving, “poor student” friends were), I entered my PhD not batting an eye at the thought of spending almost every day in the lab in some form. For a five-year period, I was able to find moments to carve out time away, but it was never in the form of an elaborate, dedicated vacation.

Even if I was away, I was always “on-call”. In fact, my Dad can attest to the fact I always had some anxiety-ridden episode during my “time off” because one of my undergrad students would message me with a mini-emergency, or my boss would send an urgent email.

I once got in trouble for going home for Thanksgiving. I ended up having a heated meeting with my boss, and even the question of “do PhD students even get time off?” was brought up in conversation. It’s a sad occurrence that is brushed over in the real world, but PhD students don’t have mandated days off. They are at the mercy of their superiors, but even if they do get the okay, the guilt that follows is incredible. When working in the lab, there is never a “good time” to leave…

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When I first came to Italy, I was excited about the thought of the mandated 20 vacation days I heard so much about. I was thrilled about finally having the chance to achieve work-life balance, but what I didn’t realize was that academia is the same all over the world. Even though I was working in Italy, I was working in a lab, so the “standard rules didn’t apply”. It was like I was doing my PhD all over again, and it was one of the many factors that contributed to my misery…

Hot city, minimal traffic – Milan in August

Now that I’m working a “real world” job, I finally have the chance to experience a true “vacation” period, but being Italy, there is always a catch.

Since my contract switched from the US-to-Italy mid-year, my yearly vacation days were adjusted as well. Unfortunately, I “had” to use a good chunk of them during the August period, since that’s when the company I work for (along with most establishments in Italy) closes up shop to “vacation”.

According to this article, abandoning “real life” for the majority of August is an Italian tradition dating back to the BC era. But if I’m being honest, it’s a kooky one that desperately needs to be relooked.

I mean, the article says some Italians have taken out loans this year just to vacation in August. Um, WHAT?!

Why with the criticism and lack of appreciation for the fact I even have time off finally? Because at the end of the day, there is no freedom in this procedure.

It means not being able to plan an October trip to Malta with my lab bestie from Germany, but rather forced to spend two weeks staring at the ceiling because I am “stuck” in the city. It can be incredibly annoying for those few who are still working/forced to be in the city, since even essential establishments like pharmacies can close up. Google becomes incredibly inaccurate during this time, and not being able to know if a place is *truly* open fuels the frustration even more…

Lucky for me, my cousin in Cardiff had a change of plans with her summer vacation and I’m actually heading over there for a long-overdue visit this weekend, but if that idea didn’t occur to me, I would indeed be abandoned in the ghost town that is Milano.

If I was “abandoned” in Austin, I could at least count on some vegan restaurants being open. Nothing that I value would be open in Milan…

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This is not to say a dedicated period for time off is “bad”, but forcing everyone to take time off during the period (by mandate or peer pressure) is counterproductive to say the least.

I mean, I get you can’t convince a Boomer to change his/her ways, so have it at August ya’ll! But do I have to be dragged along?

I wouldn’t mind if my superiors got priority to leave in August and I was asked to take leave in the fall (like how it works with my lab bestie’s company in Germany). In fact, I’d be thrilled by it. This would also be of benefit to companies since they can continue to be productive, even if “half-staffed”. Depending on one’s job, it’s not that hard to take on extra tasks temporarily if it means a well-deserved vacation later.

I’m also the kind of person who prefers scattered breaks throughout the year. I have 20 days? Let me do a week off every three months or so…pair it with some national holidays, and BOOM, constant feeling of refreshment while still maintaining productivity!

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Of course, there are people out there that disagree, but I’m a mature individual who encourages discussion and respects healthy discourse. I just think that if we are touting the notion that “one size does NOT fit all” in most topics this day and age—from working style to body image to sleep—how we vacation is something that should be rethought and not another thing to overlook as a tradition everybody loves.

Ha, I’m that American who shakes her head every time she passes a “chiuso per ferie” sign 🤦🏽‍♀️

It’s common to see these signs posted up in August…

What do you think about how Italians approach mandated vacation?

Do you prefer flexibility with your vacation or like that there is a designated, uniform period for time off?

Share your thoughts with a comment!

Restoration

Ferie Freak-Out