A Guide to Overthinking: My 2024 in Review
Living the Sicilian Dream, One Anxiety at a Time
Now that Christmas is over, I suppose it’s time to start looking ahead—planning for the next year, making lists, plotting goals, and reminding myself of the things I’m grateful for.
That’s what other people do. Instead, I’m busy making a different list. It’s called:
A Top 15 list of fears, anxieties, and mistakes I may—or definitely—have made in the year 2024.
This is what it looks like, for your visual sorts.
That buying the house in Sicily feels like another one of my impulsive, bipolar decisions—a streak that’s been on and off for about 55 years and like many decisions, I worry this one will backfire, and we’ll regret it. But I wanted it, I got it, and poor Jeff just wants a peaceful life, so…
That the visible wiring and cables running along internal and external walls in this village will confirm that I actually have some level of OCD because I hate visible cables and wires and if I don’t find a solution it will be enough to push me to move back to Australia.
That the medical system in Sicily is terrible and something will happen which, let's face it with my history of injuries which started in year 9 - the worst year of my life so far™ when I sprained my ankle during the school MS Walkathon but I wanted to fit in with Linda and Pauline and Donna so, on crutches, I went to the Royal Melbourne Show with them anyway because I didn't want to lose my positioning with them, which let's face it I was already on the lowest rung - and something dire will happen to send me back to Australia and we will have to pay for it all out of our own pockets because we’re no longer residents… Oh my God.
That I'll be electrocuted by the electric plugs because houses have two types of power points as do whitegoods, so you have to continuously piggyback loads of adapters, not to mention the Australian ones, and the Italian plugs are always loose, and I’m in constant fear of electrocution.
That I am contributing to the biggest rort, and landfill because town water cannot be trusted, so instead of the government finding the money to fix that problem we are forced to buy bottled water and I go through about three x 2 litre bottles a day and even though I am not someone who actively thinks about the environment I still recycle and have finally managed to understand the garbage collection system here, Monday is compostables, Tuesday paper and glass and mixed, Wednesday is compostables and plastics, and so on, and the sheer number of big plastic bottles we turf makes me feel like the worst person in the world, so I will have to find a solution.
That the chaotic car parking across the island that I find so freewheeling – parking in either direction, in the middle of an intersection - will turn dark. I don’t know how, but I fear it will.
That when we do decide to move permanently, our pets will be caged up and put in a noisy scary place for more than 24 hours, lots more, and I won’t sleep until they are safely in my arms and scratching my face in vengeance, but what if one of them dies on the plane or their trauma will change them and I’ll hate them and myself.
That in Italy, I will always be the dumbest in the room, because I'll never know enough proper Italian to have a decent conversation with anyone.
That we end up broke and Jeff will leave me because after more than 30 years he's finally done with my bullshit so he takes off to live his best life, and I'm genuinely happy for him because he deserves it like someone who has been an excellent, empathetic psychiatric nurse deserves a long retirement after 30 years.
That my mother will live a really long life.
That my mother will not live a really long life.
That goals, or the lack of them, define me but I'll never drum up the energy to do more, because more than anything I do want to live a bigger life, like those I look up to, but I just can’t be bothered. I really like watching Survivor and Ink Master and I can't even bargain with myself to encourage action, because I am not a woman of my word, especially not to myself.
That it doesn't matter how far I run, I'll still have to write the novel, but first I need to spend more time wallowing in anxieties, so I’ll just remain miserable instead of actually writing, to wit …
That I'll never be happy no matter how much joy comes my way because I am a hardworking misanthrope and I practice my craft 24/7 and you would think that I have loads of misanthropic friends because like attracts like but I prefer to be the most misanthropic in the room especially seeing that I'm not remotely the smartest.
That all of this is true and will come to pass, but let's not jinx things 🤘🤌🍝🍕🍋
Despite my growing list of insecurities and anxieties, I’m grateful for one constant and that's Jeff, because he does put up with my bullshit and makes me laugh, he also is sweet and kind and I adore and love him so much.
What are your hopes and fears for the coming year? Leave a comment below, if you wish.
Speaking as one who is risk-averse and lives largely in their head this all seems impossibly exciting to me. Fears and doubts are natural in a situation like this. Go for it.
Where do you get a Jeff?!! 😂🙃🌺