Stepping Off the Edge After 50

From there to here

In early 2013, after more than a decade of crazy long days and constant deadlines, I decided I needed – and wanted – a change. As my career had progressed, the demands increased and the benefits decreased – somehow this didn’t seem right. After almost 10 years back in my homeland Australia, I chose to return to Canada, moving to Calgary, Alberta.

Now, with more than 20 years working as a communications professional, I was enjoying senior positions but getting less personal satisfaction from the work at hand. I had lost sight of me – there was so little time to do the things I loved – and I could hardly remember a weekend without at least some work. Ten years is a long time to not see yourself clearly – I wanted to find ‘me’ again.

I wanted a change – a dramatic change – but how do you start to even think about completely changing your life when you are 50?

Only months earlier, after three years in Calgary, I was offered a position in my favorite city, Vancouver BC. While I enjoyed Calgary, I was happy to move away from the extreme cold of Alberta winters. Within two months of starting the new position, unpleasant interactions with a colleague became an almost daily reality, escalating enough over a two-month period to warrant discussions with Human Resources.

Their support for the situation was wonderful, however I realized I was ‘done.’ I had had enough of unsupportive colleagues, impossible demands and constant deadlines. I wanted my life to be more than someone else’s timeline. I wanted a change – a dramatic change – but how do you start to even think about completely changing your life when you are 50?

The challenge of finding a starting point for what I’d do next was overwhelming at first. I understand why people don’t do this more often. It isn’t easy.

I resorted to the tactics I’d used with clients for years – define the problems and look at all options, no matter how crazy. Nothing was off the table until carefully investigated. I started by considering what was truly important to me – not on the surface, but what was I missing, what did I want to fill my days, what distracted me from watching time pass.

As I thought of cities I knew and countries I loved, nothing seemed to fit.

My large dining table was soon covered in well-organized and color-coordinated post-it notes, structured by country, city, living situation, type of work and interests. My evenings were filled with following ideas on Google, and reading blogs and articles on making choices and changing directions.

As I thought of cities I knew and countries I loved, nothing seemed to fit. I added extra notes – England? No. France? Maybe, but I wasn’t sure. Italy? …Maybe, maybe… But what would I do there? And why Italy? Apart from the peace and excitement I’d felt on short visits there, I couldn’t answer that question.

All the while I was mindful of comments and questions I’d hear soon enough. Those questions kept me up at nights for at least a week. Not because I was afraid of them, but because I still couldn’t answer them well.

I could hear the judgment and condemnation of people, many terrified, possibly immobilized themselves, by the thought of change. “You want to move countries? Again? Not street, house or suburb, not even city, but country? Seriously? What on earth is wrong with you?”

My favourite, and most predictable question, “Are you having a mid-life crisis?” was often paired with, “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

I answered then, and still do, saying, “Nothing!”

Support is at hand

Nothing was wrong with me, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have any fears about this great change. It turns out I had two fears to overcome.

1. Was I too old to start such an adventure?

2. Could I really find my feet in Italy, where I knew no one, didn’t speak the language, and only had a vague but very strong pull to the beautiful, historic and often chaotic country with incredible food and wine, and kind people?

Through taking it one step at a time I realized, again, that fears are not a good enough reason to not do something.

Surely this sort of caper was for younger people, those without an established career. All I knew was that I did not see myself enjoying my life if I had to do this work for another 10 years or more. I was done.

Through taking it one step at a time I realized, again, that fears are not a good enough reason to not do something. Recognizing what I was afraid of was the hardest part.

In June 2013, my mum arrived in Vancouver from Australia for a five-week holiday. We took the first few days to get over her jet lag and talk about this crazy adventure I was considering. Three days and many questions later she said, “I have one final question, what’s stopping you?” I had to think for a moment.
Mum continued, “Moving countries is a decision – you know this. You have risen to the challenge each time you’ve moved, from Australia to Canada, back to Australia and back to Canada. You know the benefits, challenges and time it takes to feel at home in a new land.

“It is a choice, and you can do it. If this is truly what you want – and you know you don’t want to continue as you’ve been doing – what’s stopping you?”

Almost a week later I had my answer.

Almost a week later I had my answer. One highlight of her visit was a 7-day cruise to southeast Alaska. On the final day trip in Ketchikan, as we watched eagles flying free, it came to me. There was nothing stopping me – all I had to do was stop off the edge of fear.

At first the idea of such a move can seem daunting or even terrifying. This would be my fourth international move by myself. An unplanned advantage of my earlier moves, I was now quite adept at such an adventure – the logistics were now simply part of the process.

As I told family and friends, the support circle grew as people understood that this was my choice to make. I chose not to be bound by fear; instead choosing a new path, a new dream.

Since moving to Italy, the people I’ve met have become some of my strongest supporters because they, too, understand that while choosing a different path isn’t easy, it is truly incredible!

The updraft will catch you

My leap of faith – my stepping off the edge – is now my stability. It is my rock, my foundation. Despite a struggling economy and learning the culture, the thought of not living here isn’t pleasant. From here I can see new paths to explore that weren’t even visible before.

I am freer in myself because I’ve stepped outside the confines of other’s perceptions of me. I now think differently about what I want to do, which of my skills I want to use, and which of my interests could be an exciting path to follow.

No one knows what the future will bring – I chose to be bold and fearless, to pursue a dream or two, somewhere else in the world. In the end, what mattered to me was trying.

Ultimately, it takes patience to learn how to live in a new country – it takes the decision to connect with a place and her people, and not just pass through. The choice in 2013 to step out of my successful career and into the world of living outside the box has been more than a fairytale – I have made it my reality.

Now I teach business and conversational English, online and to local students. I help friends with strategic project planning, and I travel to write and photograph the beauty I see. Importantly, I am happy. I smile daily at the colours, flavours and places that fill my life. Now I enjoy taking short trips – Venice is two hours away, Rome about 90 minutes, and it’s only three hours to Lake Como. I can do those trips and more whenever I want – even for a day – and that thought always makes me smile.

No one knows what the future will bring – I chose to be bold and fearless, to pursue a dream or two, somewhere else in the world. In the end, what mattered to me was trying.

Stepping Off the Edge After 50

There was something exquisite, even intoxicating, about flying into Florence for the first time. I had already visited the city before and was familiar with at least some of the landmarks. Until that October 2013 moment, I had only arrived by car from the north.

The first reward from choosing to live, to not give up or give in, was the view of the Florence Duomo as my last plane of that long trip from Vancouver to Paris to Florence came in to land. This was it – my new home. I was in Italy!

The view – looking level across to the cupola rising above the city – felt like a hug from my new home. Almost two years later, the feeling hasn’t gone away.

Sandy Swanton was a participant in Pink Pangea’s Writing Retreat in Venice, Italy. Photos by Sandy Swanton and Unsplash.